Page 50 of Sinful Bride

“Oh my God.” I laugh with her, shaking my head. “Those two.”

“Yeah, well, they had it coming. And that new manager, Aubrey?”

My breath hitches. “Yeah?”

“Amazing. Truly amazing. She knows what she’s talking about, and she runs the business with an iron fist. But at the same time, she’s a human being, you know? The other day I bled through and when I told her I needed to step out to take care of things, she just told me to take the day and rest. Asked me if I needed anything, offered to send a heating pad, the works. Kinda felt weird to not be ridiculed for being a woman.”

That makes me open my eyes and sit up. “It’s weird, right? Are we that used to being undermined for normal things?”

Hazel rolls her eyes. “You’d think!” She smiles at Taty and pokes the tip of her nose with a finger. “Things will be different for this little one. And I am so glad, Daph. Seriously.” She looks over at me, her gaze meeting mine. “It’s about time someone treats you the way you’ve always deserved. I really wish you all the happiness coming your way.”

20

DAPHNE

It’s the night before my wedding.

Breathe, Daphne. Breathe.

Oh, wait. That’s not me talking to myself—that’s Hazel.

“Breathe, Daphne. Breathe.” She flashes me her signature, I’m-up-to-something grin. “Go sit down. We got this.”

I hate feeling useless. But I hate feeling overwhelmed even more, so I do as she suggests and sit my dazed ass down in one of the overstuffed chairs.

People are bustling around the penthouse, getting everything set up and ready for our rehearsal dinner that’s also a pseudo-combined bachelor and bachelorette party. Lots of birds, very minimal stones. Just the way I want it.

I catch Pasha’s gaze as he turns the corner. He winks at me, then continues making his way into the kitchen to direct the caterers.

Moments later, some random person I don’t recognize sets a mug of coffee down on the end table next to me. “Compliments of the host,” she explains.

“Thanks.” I sip the coffee and hum to myself. Somehow, the man always knows exactly what I need—even before I do.

That’s my issue, though. It’s the problem that’s been weighing on me since he just announced we’re getting married instead of asking me if I wanted to even consider spending the rest of my life with him.

Are we doing this because we want to?

Or because he thinks we “need” to?

“There she is! Queen of the weekend!” Sofi beams at me and plops herself down on the ottoman I’ve currently propped my feet on. She scoops them into her lap and, like the angel that she is, starts rubbing them.

“You look like you could use a little extra pampering,” she says as she rubs my toes.

“On top of all the other pampering?” Because of course, Pasha’s kept me massaged and smoothied and on a regular sleep schedule. With hot baths and mandatory nap times to boot.

Sofi cocks a brow. “Tell me that dress fitting wasn’t stressful as hell. Between the eighty different pairs of heels and—how many gowns did you actually try on?”

“A thousand, give or take.” It sure as hell felt like it, at least. But with the rush of the wedding, we didn’t have time to go shopping at different boutiques.

Of course, Pasha made sure we had personalized access to the best designers. In the end, I went with the designer who didn’t have dollar signs in her eyes but did have a stunning gown that looks like it emerged from my dreams.

I just wish I felt like I was in a dream.

At least I don’t feel like I’m in a nightmare. That’s good.

… Right?

Asya comes into the room with Taty on her shoulder. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, darlings. I’ve got this little one ready for her bedtime, but Arlo said if she wakes up later, we’ll give her a nice, warm bath to settle her back down.”

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