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“I don’t really need a car,” I protested.
My father raised his eyebrows at me. “If you think I’m going to have a daughter of mine walk to her wedding day, you don’t know me at all.”
I smiled, but there were times when I felt like I didn’t know him. He did his best to shelter me from the worst of his business dealings, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew the hotel we lived in, and all the other businesses he had around our corner of the city, were just a cover-up for his main businesses, none of which were legal. Money laundering, illegal gambling, counterfeiting, were just a scratch on the surface. But I couldn’t complain. I’d benefitted from the money he earned and was still benefitting from it now. From my expensive education to my wedding dress, they were all paid for by my dad’s businesses.
“Are you ready, Hallie?” Layla asked me.
I smiled and nodded. “Yes, I’m ready.”
I had to be, didn’t I? With two of London’s most powerful crime families filling up a church, waiting for my arrival, I didn’t have much choice.
Layla chugged the remainder of her champagne.
My father frowned at her. “You know that’s a Dom Perignon vintage and costs four hundred quid a bottle. You’re not supposed to drink it like tequila.”
“Damn. You should have told me sooner,” she quipped. “I would have drunk more of it.”
Despite himself, my father smiled. No one could be mad with Layla for long. She had the kind of confidence I craved.
I would have liked to follow her down to oblivion as well, but I needed to stay sharp. I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself in front of my new husband’s family.
My dad put his arm out to me, and I slipped my hand into the crook. With Layla behind us, picking up my train, we caught the private lift from our living quarters down to the lobby. The doorman hurried to open the large glass hotel doors, and we stepped out onto the street. London’s traffic fumes hit my nostrils, the usual noise and bustle filling my ears—distant police sirens, horns honking, the constant drone of vehicles. A couple of my father’s men had directed people to the other side of the street, so I didn’t have to weave my way through strangers on my way to the car. The classic Rolls-Royce had ribbon running down the long bonnet. Despite my protests about not needing a car, I had to admit it was beautiful.
I was grateful the weather had held off. It might be early summer, but that didn’t mean anything in England. One thing we could rely on in this country was that the weather was always unreliable.
The driver opened the door for me, and I slid onto the soft leather of the back seat, careful not to wrinkle my dress, and swallowed my nerves. I’d be fine once this part was over, I told myself. It was just the thought of standing at the front of a church with everyone staring at me that was making me so nervous, not the marriage itself. Once the wedding was done, I could relax, and Harvey and I could start to get to know each other properly.
In the bedroom.
I hoped he wouldn’t think I was completely useless in that regard. Maybe it was old-fashioned to save yourself for your wedding, but I had. I hadn’t done it deliberately, but when you were Marlon Wynter’s daughter, both men, and boys, had a tendency to give you a wide berth. Who would want to be the one to take his daughter’s V-card? I was pretty sure no one would be stupid enough to risk their lives just to get into bed with me.
The driver started the Rolls-Royce. I sat in the back with Layla on one side and my dad on the other. We were only in the car for a matter of minutes, and before I could even get my head around it, we were pulling up in front of the church.
It was a pretty red stone building, with a graveyard surrounding it, a gravel path leading up to the front door, and black wrought-iron railings dividing the grounds from the road and pavement. Not that I could see much pavement. People were everywhere. Most of them in expensive suits or pretty dresses. I didn’t recognise any of them.
The moment the car stopped, everyone extinguished cigarettes or put their phones away and hurried into the church. Harvey was nowhere to be seen, and I imagined he was already standing at the front of the church, with his younger brother, Leo Cornell, beside him as best man.
Was Harvey nervous, too?
“Are you ready?” my father asked me.
I nodded. “As I’ll ever be.”
Someone must have got the nod as organ music began inside the church and the inner doors were swung wide open, giving us unfettered access.
I stepped through the arched doorway, hanging on tightly to my father’s arm. I wanted to keep my line of sight straight and focus on my husband-to-be standing tall at the front, but the moment I caught sight of the pews filled with people, all of whom were staring at me, I couldn’t help searching for a familiar face. I wanted to catch the eye of a friend or family member and have them throw me a reassuring smile, but instead, it was someone else’s eye I caught.
Standing near the back, his eyes narrowed, was the brother whohadn’tbeen asked to be best man.
Tam Cornell didn’t approve of this union. I was surprised he’d even come.
While others wore bright colours and light-grey suits with flowers in the lapels to celebrate the wedding, he was dressed entirely in black. At well over six feet, with shoulders that filled out every inch of his suit and biceps pressing at the material of the sleeves, he made for an imposing figure. The black of his suit matched his thick hair and eyes that were almost as dark.
He caught my gaze and held it steady, not a spark of light about him. He was the eldest of the three sons, and so would be the one to take over everything, should something happen to his father, Samuel Cornell. He’d probably imagined a future where he’d be king of the whole of this side of the river and didn’t want to have to share it with my family. We were ruining that for him now, except he didn’t really have a choice. He wouldn’t be able to hold off the Gilligans by himself, and he must know that. My father wouldn’t have agreed to this either if there was any other way.
I hoped he wasn’t here to stir up trouble. This was one day I’d like to get through without a fight breaking out.
I wrenched my eyes away from him, and my cheeks flooded with heat. I focused on the front of the church and the two men standing there, Harvey and Leo. Harvey watched me, and a smile touched my lips. He was handsome in his three-piece suit, his wavy light-brown hair combed back from his face, his blue eyes a shade darker than the sky. That was one of Harvey’s benefits—even though he was the son of one of the most powerful crime families in London, he looked like he should be playing polo on a field in Winchester and breaking for afternoon tea.
