Page 15 of Stalking the Bride

My guys sigh, and I take a step back, the tension slowly sliding from my body. I glance back over my shoulder to make sure Belle is okay. She looks a bit shaken up, and I rage at myself. She never should have been involved in any of this. I should have left her with someone else while I questioned Barry, but that wouldn’t be possible. That would mean she would be away from me. And I can’t allow that ever again.

Don’t worry, angel. I’ll make things all better.

“Confirm his story with the grounds workers,” I tell my men. “This isn’t our guy. Wedding’s still off. Let Fitch know.”

I stomp across the room, swelling with warmth as I grab Belle’s delicate little hand and pull her from the room, down the hall, and into the back room of the prep-kitchen. On the way, we pass Fitch’s room, which I know will becometheirroom once the wedding finally takes place. I may have bought myself some more time with my angel, but how much? How long can I really put things off before Fitch insists they wed anyway?

“I’m so sorry, Belle,” I whisper as I close the door behind us. “Don’t be afraid. I never should have put you in the same room with that weirdo.”

She looks up at me, doe-eyed and innocent, trying to appear less frightened than she is. And I curse myself. I caused all of this, and yet still she trusts me. Looks to me for protection and guidance. She believes in me, when really I’m the one who’s violently obsessed with her.

“So you don’t think he was…stalking me?” Belle asks.

What a question to be askingme.

I shake my head, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“No, angel. He was just a weird guy looking for attention. If anyone was stalking you, I would know. Trust me.”

Trust me?

Jesus, who even am I now? What have I become?

I’m working her. Making her trust me more and more, when I’m the last man in the world she should be anywhere near. I’ll ruin her, like I want to ruin her virgin cunt with my engorged cock, growing quickly beneath my jeans.

She wanted me to take her when we were back at the hotel. She’d let her walls down for me, all because of a situation I put her in. The situation I fabricated. And in less than a day, I’ve completely abandoned my professional responsibilities of maintaining distance from the girl I’ve been hired to protect. And on top of that, I’ve been stalking her for weeks.

I should tell her everything. She deserves to know.

But she must know by now what Itrulyam. Or at least have some suspicions.

Then again, she asked me to teach her more. Show her what Fitch would want from her once they were married. If she mistrusted me, she wouldn’t have done that. Either she’s totally oblivious, or she’s playing right into my game. And I don’t think she’s oblivious. I think Belle is looking for a way out of her marriage, and I think she knows she’s found it in me.

She’s twisting absentmindedly, shifting from one foot to the other, a movement which accentuates the round curves of her hips. Every motion whips a harsh craving into my mind, causing my eyes to narrow as I stare and run my tongue across my front teeth, eager to taste her again. For a brief moment, I wonder what we’re even doing here right now. Why should I stay and keep trying to find ways to postpone the wedding? Why not just take her now and vanish? My life means nothing if I don’t have her with me, to wake by her side every morning. I’m sure she understands that. And if she doesn’t, she will.

“Are we…safe here?” Belle asks, glancing around the room.

“You’re safe when I’m with you.” My eyes are glued to her. She must see my obsession in my gaze. I’m not even trying to hide it any longer.

“I guess Fitch will be upset the wedding is still off,” she says softly, glancing to my left. I turn and see the elaborate wedding cake through the glass of a fridge.

“Fitch?” I glare hard at her. “What about you?”

She hides her eyes from me for a moment, and it’s like I’m suddenly denied air. My desire for her is overpowering. Even her hair over her eyes is a painful barrier. I can’t imagine what it would be like to actually have her gone from my sight.

“You know it’s…an arranged marriage, right?”

Her words hit me like a bullet. “Wait, what?”

“My parents are forcing me to marry Fitch for his money. If I don’t, they’ll cut me off completely. I’ll have nowhere to go.”

My vision reddens as my rage begins to squeeze me in a vise-like grip. My throat goes so tight I can barely swallow. What kind of parents would marry their daughter off for money? What is this–medieval times?

I look back again at the wedding cake, five tiers, elaborate flowers made from frosting, and some kind of golden chutes springing out from the top like a fountain. My chest is on fire with rage from what I’ve just heard.

“Then this cake is as fake as your engagement.” I breathe heavily.

“I…I guess you could say that–”

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