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I search desperately for a glimpse of myself in his face. His hair is closer to brown while mine is light, but that’s not unusual. But Mom’s a brunette too, though I’ve definitely got her jawline and nose, so I was hoping to see something. Like where I got my blonde locks from. Maybe it’s from a grandparent.
His smile doesn’t budge. “We discussed this, Harper. I’ve done so much for you, haven’t I? Eileen's treatment, her rehabilitation. You more than anyone knows how much of an investment that is. I’ve asked for nothing in return but your trust. This is all a legal formality, something that will help make sure my business runs smoothly. I hate to seem like the bad guy here, but delaying could mean my money is tied up and it would be difficult to continue—”
“Right, right. I know. I’m just nervous.” Two years. He told me I only had to stay married to Devin for two years and then whatever legal tax game they’re playing would be done.
Two years in exchange for my mother’s life. Not that he’s been crude enough to phrase it exactly like that, but it doesn’t take a genius to understand what he’s implying.
“Harper. You’re a sweet young woman. This isn’t the end of the world. I’m looking forward to taking this time to get to know you. I don’t know why your mother left without telling me she was pregnant, but I assure you, if I’d known then things would have been very different. You coming into my life at a time where we can both be there for each other is nothing short of a miracle.” He straightens his cuffs. “And you never know. Devin is an attractive, well off man. Maybe sparks will fly.”
I seriously doubt that, but he's right. There's no way I could ever pay him back for everything he's done. He's saved Mom from at worst death, and at best a lifetime of debt. I couldn't even pretend to afford the place she’s staying at now, even for just a few months. What are a few years compared to that? All I have to do is sign some papers and pretend to be a happy wife to a man I barely know.
Many women have done worse for less. It seems like such a dumb little thing in the big scheme of things, but at the same time it's big for me. Not that I've had much time for dating lately, but it’s strange knowing that for at least the next couple years, I’m giving up on finding the man of my dreams.
Mom is going to kill me when she finds out about this, but she’ll be alive to do it.
Steeling myself with determination, I put my hand on Vincent’s arm. He’s my father. The DNA test he’d insisted on said so. I have to trust that even if he’s not what I imagined, he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. “You’re right. It’s just so sudden. I’m sure this will all work out.”
Gentle piano music swells as we emerge into the antechamber to the ballroom. In my stomach, a swarm of butterflies threaten to burst right out like the scene from Alien. Not exactly the fluttery feeling I expected to have at my own wedding.
We step onto the red runner that leads into the gaudy entranceway and then to the ballroom where the guests are waiting. I never imagined my wedding needing security, but guards stand at every door, looking exactly like what they are, with shades, suits and curled wires sticking out of their ear pieces. They could be taken straight out of any movie that involves the line, “Get down, Mr. President!”
My father raises his hand. “Go guard the front. No one goes in or out until this is done.” They nod and slip away. Then he looks at me. “Smile.”
I do, even if I’m sure it isn’t fooling anyone.
Not for the first time, I wonder what my father really does to live this kind of lifestyle. Internet searches just told me he’s a businessman, but does a casino owner really need this much security?
We pause at the doors, waiting for the wedding march to start. Right ahead is the ballroom antechamber, with a marble fountain in the center. It would be centerpiece enough, but it’s almost an afterthought underneath the massive chandelier hanging above it that stretches multiple floors upwards.
Movement near the top catches my eye. It could be a trick of the light, but is there someone up there? I peer harder, but I don't see anything now. Just my imagination. What am I expecting? A masked crusader to come swinging in on a rope to pull me out of this mess?
The doors on the other side of the chamber open and the crowd turns to watch. I don’t know a single one of the faces staring back at me. “Why are they all here?” I whisper.
