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His voice is gruff, but there’s a smile on his face. He has no clue everyone in front of him was just poking their noses into his personal business.
If Jorden and Francia can wipe the shock off of their faces, maybe it will even stay that way.
71
IVAN
Cora’s face is pale, her eyes wide. She looks like she’s seen a ghost.
Or maybe she just caught a stray glimpse of herself in the mirror.
“What,” I ask, looking her over from frilly head to bedazzled toe, “in the hell are you wearing?”
Anya elbows me in the side. “It’s a wedding dress, asshole.”
“Sure, but which corpse did you strip it off of? It looks ancient.”
There is an ungodly amount of fabric draping off of her shoulders. She looks like she is drowning in it. Throw her out on a windy day and she’d probably take flight.
“Apparently, the designer has a vintage collection.” Cora tries and fails to flatten the volume around her waist. “You don’t like it?”
There’s a playful edge to her voice. She knows I don’t like it. And I know she would rather get married naked than in this.
Come to think of it, that’s not a bad idea.
“I’ve never been more eager to get you out of an item of clothing in my entire life.”
“Then maybe it’s a winner,” Jorden suggests. She was tucked up behind Francia, but she steps away and folds her hands behind her back. “That’s the kind of energy a man should bring to his wedding night.”
Francia is still standing off to the side, her nose buried in her phone.
Anya holds up her hands in surrender. “Okay. If you all are going to be gross, then I’m out of here.”
“Maybe that’s for the best,” I drawl. “I think I’ll take over the wedding dress hunt from here.”I turn to Cora’s friends. “But for now, I’d like a moment alone with my fiancée.”
“What about the dresses?” Anya protests.
“Wear them, sell them, burn them. I don’t give a fuck.” Whatever gets them out of here the fastest. I don’t even care; I’ll eat the cost.”
Jorden looks at me warily as she hugs Cora goodbye. Francia doesn’t even look at me. She just hugs Cora and then pulls back, holding her by the arms. “Be careful.”
Then the women leave and Cora and I are alone.
I circle around her, twisting my head from side to side to capture every angle. “I thought I was vicious, but my sister is heartless for putting you in this dress.” I lay a hand on her arm and have to compress six inches of material before I feel her body underneath.
“Believe it or not, I chose this myself.”
I arch a brow. “If your goal is to get abandoned at the altar, then I’d say it’s perfect.”
“There won’t be an altar to leave me at, remember?” She turns back to the racks of dresses, the gown swishing around her with every step. “Why take this seriously if the wedding isn’t real?”
She’s right. I know she’s right.
Yet something inside me rages against the idea.
“I remember someone telling me that we needed to practice.”
She ducks her head. I can see a blush creeping up her cheeks. “That was different.”
