Dark, Dangerous, and Forbidden

https://geni.us/darkdangerousforbidden

“Is Harrison here yet?” I breathlessly ask as my mother bustles into the church’s bridal room, her perfectly coiffed hair already threatening to unravel, much like my emotional state.

She shakes her head, lips pressed into a thin line. “Not yet, darling. But don’t worry, I’m sure everything is fine.”

Everything is fine. My lifelong mantra. Especially when nothing is fine.

Frantic to cover my nerves, I take a deep, steadying inhalation and turn back to the mirror, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from my gorgeous white gown.

The silk is cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the heat burning my cheeks. Harrison, my groom, is more than half an hour late. To our wedding.

The worst part is that I’m not shocked.

Hurt, yes. But not surprised.

After giving me a false, reassuring smile, she vanishes, leaving me alone with my two bridesmaids. They’re my college roommates, and I know we’ll be lifelong friends. Now, more than ever, I’m grateful to have them in my life.

“Kels, you know you don’t have to do this,” Emily says, appearing at my shoulder.

In the mirror, our reflections meet. Her stunning hazel eyes are filled with concern. Maybe more than anyone, Emily is the voice of reason in our trio, and I wonder if she knows how much I appreciate that about her.

“Seriously,” she continues, “it’s not too late to back out.”

Part of me knows she’s right. As usual. This time I wish I could take her advice. But I’m already in too deep.

Aimee, my other bridesmaid, is perched on a nearby chaise lounge. She lifts her champagne flute. “You should marry for love.” She sighs, a dreamy look in her eyes and a wistful smile painting her stunningly gorgeous features. Her hair is pinned up perfectly, her makeup is flawless, and she’d done both herself rather than trusting the task to someone else, even a professional. “That’s what I’m going to do.”

Someday, probably soon, she would become some lucky man’s picture-perfect traditional wife. She might be in college right now, but what she really wants is a husband who’s madly in love with her and the kids to go with it.

Since she’s still looking at me, I force a smile. “That’s sweet, Aimee, but we don’t all have that luxury of love.”

Emily laughs. “Is it a luxury or just common sense? If you don’t love Harrison, maybe you should cancel this circus and just have a lovely party at the reception. Obviously without him.”

“The honeymoon might be more fun without him too,” Aimee drawls.

They aren’t wrong.

We all burst into giggles, and the laughter feels good, releasing some of the tension that’s been building since my fiancé left three days ago for his bachelor party in Las Vegas.

My friends are my ride-or-dies. They know me better than anyone, which is why they’re so concerned. But they don’t understand the pressure I’m under, the expectations I have to meet.

Aimee, who could have easily been a model, all but floats over and presses a glass of champagne into my hand. “Might as well make the most of it.”

The drink is probably not a good idea—after all, I’ve already had one—but my nerves demand I accept. What if he stands me up?

“And have one of these…” Emily walks over to the table where Aimee has planted herself and lifts up a platter of amazing pastries that she baked.

Maybe I’m selfish, but I wish she’d open a pastry shop. Or, even better, a whole chain of them. She’s smart enough to run an empire. But her dream is to design elevated interior spaces, and damn if she isn’t good at that too.

“I mean, you’re already in the gown, right?” she offers helpfully.

Earlier, I’d passed up the temptation, just in case I couldn’t squeeze myself into the dress that’s probably a size too small for me.

“It’ll help absorb some of the champagne,” Aimee adds with a slight shrug.

Both of my friends are determined to lead me into temptation.

“Just one,” I lie to myself. Until recently, I hadn’t been a stress eater. But Harrison would stress a saint.

Aimee lifts the back of my dress so I don’t smush it when I drop down onto a chair.

Then I place a buttery, dark chocolate-filled croissant onto a plate.

The first bite is an explosion of delicious sensation, sweet, tart, yeasty yumminess. “Oh my God.” I close my eyes. Good thing I’m sitting, otherwise I might swoon.

“Right?” Aimee asks, serving one to herself. “This will cost me another hour on the treadmill, but it’s worth it.”

Not that she hadn’t already logged two hours in the gym.

“Best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth,” I tell Emily.

“If that’s true, you need to be more adventurous,” Aimee says.

After rolling my eyes, I look back at Emily again. “You’re gifted.”

She blushes.

I’m battling the urge to go for a maple-glazed scone when the door opens again.

I look up at Mrs. Holloway, my wedding planner. Though she’s trying to project an air of confidence and calm, her facade is razor thin. Her left eye twitches slightly as she speaks. “Ladies, I’ve just spoken with Mr. Cresthaven. He’s going to personally locate Harrison and bring him here.”

My stomach drops. If my tall, dangerous, intimidating future father-in-law is getting involved, things must be worse than I thought.

“I’m sure we’ll be underway in no time,” Mrs. Holloway adds, her voice a touch too high.

Emily catches my gaze.

“Thank you,” I tell Mrs. Holloway.

With a tight nod, she leaves.

“At least we have more time together,” Aimee says, topping off Emily’s glass, even though she’s shaking her head in protest.

“You can still be a runaway bride,” Emily reiterates.

If only that were possible.

I take a deep breath.

Everything is fine. My wedding will take place. It has to. After all, it’s what my parents want, and I do what’s expected of me. Always.

“No one would blame you for cancelling,” Emily assures me. “The whole family knows he’s a jerk. He showed up almost two hours late for the last family gathering.”

Emily’s stepfather is Damon Cresthaven, giving me an ally in the family, the only silver lining in this mess.

At least another half hour drags by before the door opens once more, this time with an authoritative click.

Cullen Cresthaven enters, his presence immediately filling the room. He’s well over six feet tall, and he’s slim, fit. His salt-and-pepper hair is expertly styled, and his tuxedo was custom made for him. “Kelsey.” Then he nods politely toward my friends.

He’s every bit a gorgeous billionaire who looks like he stepped out of a magazine. Everything about him commands attention, and the atmosphere crackles around him.

His steel-blue eyes, sharp and perceptive, lock onto mine. For a moment, I see a flicker of recognition and appreciation in his eyes.

Heat floods my cheeks, and I glance away.

When I look again, his usual, polished demeanor is back in place.

“Kels, I’m sorry about this.” His voice is a rich baritone that charms concessions out of opponents in the boardroom and convinces half the eligible woman in Houston to take off their panties. “I’m sorry about this. Harrison seems to have had a bit too much…fun at his bachelor party last night.” The slight pause and the tightening around his eyes betray his ongoing frustration with his son.

I force a smile, trying to ignore the way my heart sinks. “Of course, Mr. Cresthaven. Things happen.” How many times have I made that excuse?

“We’ve got him sobered up.” His broad shoulders are pulled back, giving me the impression of a man who carries the weight of family obligations as heavily as I do. “He’ll be ready to go in ten minutes.”

“Thank you for taking care of it.” Shockingly, my voice is steadier than I feel.

Cullen’s expression softens slightly. “You’re handling this with remarkable grace, Kelsey.” His rich baritone gives the words a husky, intimate edge. “I’m not surprised.”

His words of approval make my pulse soar, and goose bumps chase up my bare arms.

As he turns to leave, he pauses at the door. “Ten minutes,” he confirms, then he glances over his shoulder at me, and his expression is unbearably tender. “You make a beautiful bride. I hope he knows how lucky he is."