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“I can’t wear this.”
“Youwillwear this.”
He begins to back away, what appears to be a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.
“Archer, no.”
He shakes his head, standing in the doorway with a full smile now.
Why does he have to look so good when he smiles? No wonder every single woman I’ve met here in New York dreams of him. One pointed smile aimed at me and I’m almost melting at his feet. Or maybe it’s the ring he just placed on my finger that I’m well aware had to have had aheftyprice tag.
“My ring looks good on your finger, Winnie. I’ll meet you at the altar.”
He leaves, and it isn’t until moments after he softly shuts the door that I realize I’m finally taking my first full breath since the moment he walked in.
CHAPTER9
ARCHER
I’ve never beena man that worries about much. I haven’t ever needed to. One simple snap of my fingers—one command of my voice—and people do what I want. It’s the weight my last name holds. Not only that but the persona I’ve built for myself from a very young age.
But as the aging woman at the organ begins to play the soft tune of the song Winnie will walk down the aisle to, for the first time in I don’t know how long, I feel incredibly nervous.
I’ll never admit to another soul how much she’s been on my mind since the moment I left her family’s headquarters yesterday. I haven’t even admitted to myself how much she’s plagued my thoughts since yesterday morning. If I pretend long enough, I can trick myself into thinking it’s only because I know this woman is about to be my wife.
I’ve never had to share my life—my space—with anyone else. That’s got to be the reason she’s drifted into my mind more times than I could count.
Or maybe she has a pull on me that I don’t want to face.
I knew it the moment I opted for the most expensive diamond I could find at the jewelers. Or the moment I arrived at the church and felt this intense pull to track her down, to make sure she didn’t have any regrets about agreeing to this.
The doors to the church open, and it feels like my stomachdrops to my feet when I see her standing at the end of the aisle. She clutches her father’s arm so tightly I wonder if he feels the bite of her nails even through the fabric of his sleeve. I don’t pay close attention to their intertwined arms for long. I can’t resist the urge to meet her eyes, to get lost in the reality of what we’re about to do.
It hasn’t been that long since we were alone in the dressing room of the church, but since then, she’s applied a soft pink gloss to her lips and pinned a veil in the long red strands of her hair.
“She’s beautiful,” the priest whispers from my side.
I swallow, not wanting to openly admit that I wholeheartedly agree with him.
My mouth feels dry as I try to process the emotions crashing through me. I think she might be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen—and the tentative smile she gives me as they near us tells me she doesn’t even know it.
I lay my palm against my chest. It feels heavy as I watch her and her father share an awkward embrace. The only people here at the wedding are our parents—although they’ve barely said a word to each other as they sit in opposite pews—plus Luther and the photographer and Ruby Robinson, the journalist running a story on our wedding.
The music stops as Winnie climbs the two stairs to the church altar. It’s only when she comes to a stop in front of me that I realize I should’ve helped lead her to where we stand. I was too lost in her beauty, wondering why all the women I’ve met in the world have never made my heart beat the way it is at this moment.
I only saw her minutes ago, but this feels different. It feels…real.
Maybe it’s because the priest begins the service, solidifying the fact that Winnie and I are actually getting married. It feels awkward for the two of us to stand facing one another and not touch. Reaching out, I grab her hands and loop my fingersaround hers.
Her hands shake, and for some reason, it feels like a dagger to my chest. I don’t want to make her nervous—even though that’s exactly how I’m feeling right now because of her.
I’m lost, staring into her eyes through the mesh fabric of her veil, when she gives my hands a reassuring squeeze.
Maybe it wasn’t her hands that were shaking after all. Maybe they were mine.
The intense sound of my pulse thrums through my eardrums as I wonder if I should call off the wedding before the vows are ever uttered. Maybe this is a terrible idea. I shouldn’t be entering a fake marriage with a woman who is able to make my heart come alive in my chest like this from one single look.
The priest prays over us and our marriage while I’m too busy still contemplating if I should stop this wedding before it’s solidified. I don’t let anyone get under my skin. Not now, not ever. But the way my fingers tighten around hers, wanting to keep her close, I wonder if I give her long enough, Winnie will do exactly that.
