Page 6 of Madam Alana

We both stood, and she hugged me with a ferocity I returned.“Remember all the things we discussed before today. Do everything he says. Be sweetand kind like you always are.Keep an exit in sight at alltimes. Hide a weapon in every room. Don’t do anything that could angerhim. If you do anger him and you feel super scared, run. Find a way to get backto New York and hide out at The Purple Lotus. The first chance I get, I’mcalling Oren and giving him my info. You do the same. But don’t be pushy…”Celine went overall ofthe things we’d alreadydiscussed.

“Number Twelve! Come on! You don’t want to keep Mr. Holtwaiting,” Burt hollered.

“Holt is my soon-to-be husband’s last name. What was yours?”she asked and glanced over her shoulder at Burt who was frowning and waving forher to hurry up.

“Toussaint. It was French, I think.”

“Okay, got it. Be careful. I love you.” She crossed herfingers and put them over her heart.

I matched the gesture by crossing my own and placing themagainst my chest. “I love you too. Be safe.”

“Always. My new husband won’t even know what hit him!” sheteased and skipped to the door. “Thank you for waiting so patiently, Burt. I’mready.”

Burt shook his head, but there was a hint of a smile at thecorner of his mouth. People couldn’t help but be happy when Celine gave themany form of attention. She was that charismatic.

Staring at the door that Celine had exited, I waited for mynumber to be called.

Not long after, Burt appeared, his gaze directed at me as hepointed and crooked a finger. “Lucky Number Thirteen, you’re up.”

I slid my clammy hands along my dress, making sureeverything was in the right place. It was now or never. Once I signed thecontract, that would be it.

Burt led me out of the mock dressing room and to anotherdoor. In front of the door was a small accent table. Two documents lay on thesurface along with a pen and the most stunning bouquet of roses.

“Sign both and then I’ll signal the music,” he noted.

“Music?” I asked while scanning the marriage certificate,noting my bidder’s name was entered as Christophe Toussaint. My name, AlanaKim, was next to his along with a blank space. I wrote out my name in slow,swirling text. I’d only been practicing cursive script with one of the shelteradvisors for the past month. She claimed that every person needed a specialsignaturein order tosign important papers. Turnedout she was right.

“Your bidder is a romantic. Oh, he wanted you to have thesetoo.” Burt reached for the bouquet of two dozen red roses that had been lyingon the table.

“These are for me?” I gasped, never having been given such abeautiful gift before.

“Yes, ma’am.”

I thumbed one of the petals, appreciating its velvetytexture, then pressed my face to the blooms. They smelled incredible.

“And don’t forget the contract.” Burt tapped the remainingdocument.

I allowed myself a full breath in and out before I once moresigned my name.

I stood in front of the double doors, placed the flowers downin front of my abdomen, and stood as tall as I could in sparkly shoes that weretoo loose for my tiny feet. Unfortunately, they were a full size too large butthat was all that was left anywhere near my size by the time I’d chosenfootwear. Still, I buckled the ankle straps as tight as they would go andcrunched my toes to hold them in place.

My loose shoes didn’t matter.

What mattered was that in another sixty seconds I would becomeMrs. Alana Toussaint.

Chapter 3

TheWedding Ceremony

As Burt opened the doors, the music started. I held myposition, spine straight and bouquet clutched in a vise-lock so I’d havesomething to do with my trembling hands. My chin was parallel with the floor. Iwould present my soon-to-be husband with a strong-appearing bride who wasworthy of such a high bid.

Five million dollars.

I still couldn’t believe it.

A white satin runner spanned the aisle on the ground beforeme. My bidder had his back to the entrance. I watched in what felt like slowmotion as the officiant caught sight of me and gestured in my direction.

Christophe Toussaint slowly turned around, and my stomachfilled with butterflies as I got my first look at the man I’d be married to forthe next five years. My breath caught when our gazes met. His eyes were anearthy hazel color, reminding me of the first sprouts of green grass pushingthrough the ground during the early days of spring. He had espresso-coloredhair that was swept to the sides and back away from a classically handsomeface. The melodic sounds of the music rose and fell while nervous energy rolledthrough me.

---