AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTER 1
LUCIAN
As I watched the bride dutifully walk down the aisle, I knew only a soulless bastard would ruin her day for his own selfish reasons.
Crushing the delicately strewn rose petal path under my shoes, I marched down the aisle in her wake, calling out in a clear, sharp tone, “I object to this wedding.”
I kept my gaze trained on the altar.
To look at the guests would imply I gave a damn about their reaction to my outburst.
I was a Manwarring, heir to one of the largest fortunes in America.
Their opinions meant less than nothing to me.
The bride and groom turned at my approach.
The groom, Marksen Dubois, stepped forward, his brow lowered. “If this is your idea of a joke, Manwarring, I’m not laughing.”
I cocked my head as I casually brushed nonexistent lint off the shoulder of his tuxedo. “No, old friend, this is just business.” I leveled a cold stare at him as I used the same phrase he had used in my office last week when he informed me that by marrying Amelia Astrid, his family would have the leverage and financial backing to go after mine.
I could have warned him at the time that I would never allow such an alliance, but this way was much more fun.
He curled his right hand into a fist. “You have two seconds to get the hell out of here.”
I quirked one eyebrow then raised my voice for the benefit of the rapacious guests shifting in their seats as they tried to overhear our exchange. “Why don’t you ask the bride what she wants?”
Marksen whipped his head to the right.
For the first time, I allowed myself to look at her, to observe the woman whose not only day, but life, I was about to ruin.
She met my gaze with an unexpected, strange forthrightness.
Her vivid, emerald eyes seemed to stare through me.
There was no expression on her face, no anger, surprise, or even confusion. Just a rigid calm.
It was unsettling.
I could feel myself rise to the challenge. I wanted to spear my fingers through her perfect, shiny hair and pull all the pins out until her curls were a tangled, unruly mess. I wanted to smear her lipstick and bring a flush to that pristine, porcelain cheek.
Anything to shatter her icy demeanor.
It was nothing against her personally.
It wasn’t her fault.
It was how all daughters of high society were raised.
Perfect ice maidens.
Precious little darlings to be auctioned off to the highest bidder.
Bred to have no personality or opinions or ambitions of their own.
The only thing I despised more than the idea of a society bride was the necessity of having to marry one.
But again, this was all just business.
