Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 142764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
The usual ember of rage flickers to life in his eyes, and I expect a punch to the face for my defiance, but after a moment, the corner of his mouth lifts, and he nods.
"Fine. The white lace will look good on her, I think. She's a little too skinny for the velvet."
I carry her to the rack and pull the first white lace thing off I see. None of it matters since it's all for show. The next time I see her in a wedding dress it’ll be on the day of our real wedding and my father won’t be in sight. With the dress in hand, I carry her to the far corner of the room near the bookcases. It's still out in the open, and yes, he can see her, but I will do my best to shield her body as much as possible.
I quickly learn it's really fucking hard to undress and dress an unconscious person. Every time I move her, I fear she's going to wake up and freak out. I'm not sure what the hell I’ll do if she wakes too early. Not that I'd blame her for freaking out. I’m just not sure I’ll be able to calm her down enough to keep her in line.
The last thing I want is to see the fear in her eyes and worry that this time, this time, is when she decides she can no longer trust me.
I dress her in a white lace dress with a full gauzy skirt that bells out around her thin waist. I hurry to make sure she's covered, not worried about straightening anything out. It takes half the time to get into my tux as it took to dress her, but I still keep my body firmly between his gaze and her body. I turn to tuck the gun I brought into the small of my back once I slip on my belt and the jacket.
Then I face Bel again, if only to hide the shaking of my hands as I quickly button my shirt and tuck it into the pants. This is fucking ridiculous. Why dress us up like dolls if the marriage and wedding mean nothing more than a piece of paper and contract?
There has to be more going on, and that thought alone leaves me suspicious. I finish dressing and lift her gently to lay her on the nearby leather couch. At least she'll be more comfortable when she wakes up freaking out.
My heart is in my throat, choking me at the thought of her waking, seeing the fear on her face and the mistrust in her eyes. She'll be terrified and hate me all over again, and I don’t know if I can handle that.
She trusts you.
I square my shoulders and sit beside her, then I gently lift her head and place it on my thigh. I look away from Bel’s sleeping form to see my father wheeling a hospital bed into the room. My mother's hospital bed. Fuck. I didn’t anticipate this.
What the fuck is he doing?
I’m tempted to go over to her and make sure she’s okay, but Bel is still in my lap, and I don’t want to risk moving her again, not yet. “What’s going on?”
He doesn’t even look at me as he maneuvers my mother’s bed near the bar on the far wall by his desk. I’m shocked that he even takes the time to engage the brakes on the bottom once he has her where he wants her. “I know your mother isn’t one-hundred percent with us, but I would assume you don’t want her to miss your big day?”
I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood. I’m beyond angry, and even more concerned with her here. If something goes wrong, I’ll have two people to protect, instead of one. Deep breath. I count back from ten in my head. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. I let the anger clouding my thoughts go and remind myself what the endgame in all of this is. “Fine. Whatever.”
Out of nowhere, a man I vaguely recognize walks through the door. I’m tense and jumpy. If I don’t calm down, I won’t be able to pull the trigger when I need to. The man’s tall, taller than either my father or me, with a heavy five o’clock shadow, and he’s wearing a long dress coat over a nice black suit. My father cuts across the room to shake his hand. “Richard, thank you for making it on such short notice.”
I’ve seen this man before at my father’s events. One of his allies, but not really a friend.
My father turns to me with a sneer. “Richard here is going to be our officiant. He’s a lawyer, naturally, and brought the contract, but he’ll be doing the vows too.”