Page 27 of Ruthless

“Want some?” Axel shakes the bag of popcorn at me like he’s a fucking kid.

I glance at the bag and then back up at him before turning my attention to Kennedy without offering him a verbal answer. Sometimes silence is better when dealing with him.

“Suit yourself.” He shrugs and goes back to watching the girls.

Between watching Kelsey and Charlee, and Axel’s chewing in my ear, every last part of me is on edge and counting down until Kennedy’s off of work. They go a few more rounds before Connor finally tells them to take a water break.

“My turn.” Axel jumps up and hands me the bag of popcorn before stepping onto the mats and closing the distance between him and Kelsey before Asher or I can utter a word. “Come on, Short Stack. You’re up.”

“What the fuck?” I crush the bag of popcorn in my fist, ready to punch my fist through his face. I’m about to jump out of my chair when Axel holds his hands up like a little kid who got caught shitting in the corner.

“I promise. No contact on my end. I just want to see what she can do. That’s it.” Axel shrugs and gives me a smirk, but it doesn’t stop the urge I feel to beat his ass.

“It’ll be fine,” Kennedy assures me, but I’m not fucking happy about this. Still, something tells me if I want to figure our shit out, I need to let her have this.

“One scratch, Ax”—I point my finger at him—“and I make a purse out of your nuts.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves me off, but I know I’ve made my point.

My teeth clamp down and grind together every second that Kennedy stands there. I’m still fighting with the urge not to murder my little brother as they bob and weave around the mat. Lucky for me, this shit doesn’t last long. In all of his cockiness, Axel isn’t at the top of his game. He’s distracted, and that makes him sloppy. He leaves himself wide open, and Kennedy takes full advantage. She fakes a hook, and when he dodges out of the way, he leaves himself ripe for the taking. Kennedy hits him with a sidekick, but she’s so short that it nails him right in the balls.

“Fuck.” Axel folds onto the mat, holding himself like a little bitch. “What is it with you women and hitting me in my fucking nuts?”

“Popcorn?” I offer the bag to Asher while Lily lets out one of her high-pitched giggles. Even she likes watching her dumbass uncle getting his ass handed to him.

“Sure.” Asher grabs a handful and tosses it back as we sit and watch Axel roll around in pain. Serves the fucker right.

CHAPTERELEVEN

Kennedy

From behind my glasses, I stare back at my reflection, not recognizing the person I see. Dark loose waves flow down to the middle of my back. The top half of my hair is pinned up to secure the tiara that rests on my head. My eyes are done up in a smoky hue of gray and black, and the look is completed with a few coats of mascara on my lashes. For my lips, I opted for a neutral color to offset the heaviness of my eyes.

The beaded bodice of my dress molds to my breasts perfectly, stopping right above my navel and dipping in at the waist for a perfect A-line. My trembling hands smooth out the white chiffon skirt that has a split right up the middle that stops at the tops of my thighs. I lucked out finding this dress in one of the shops at our hotel on such short notice.

It takes me a couple of minutes to realize that this is, in fact, me. That this is happening. And it’s not a dream. I am getting married.

A knock taps against the dressing room door, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Are you ready, Kennedy?” Ruth’s salt and pepper bun appears in the mirror from behind me. She and her husband own this little chapel that Zane managed to find off the Strip.

“As I’ll ever be.”

I paste a wide smile onto my face and press my hand against my stomach to tame the wild butterflies somersaulting around. Everything inside of me is spinning a million miles a minute. It takes a few slow deep breaths to get myself under control and avoid hyperventilating. The last thing I want to do on my wedding day is have a panic attack.

“You look beautiful.” She hands me a bouquet of red roses tied together with a simple white ribbon.

“Thank you.”

My shaking hands grip the small bundle like it’s a lifeline, and then I spin on the heel of my new white shoes. I usually don’t wear anything taller than three inches, but I opted for the six-inch ones today because I didn’t want Zane to tower over me as much as he usually does.

On unsteady feet, I follow Ruth out from the dressing room and into the tiny hallway, stopping at a set of white double doors. Sucking in a deep breath, I prepare to walk down the aisle. I can do this. I just hope my father will forgive me for this someday. All of that is forgotten once the music starts. My heart beats wildly against my chest as “With or Without You” by 2CELLOS fills the silence. When the doors open, my jaw drops. The small room is all done up with red roses that match my bouquet, and bows made out of white mesh are draped along the sides of each pew—pews that should have our friends and family sitting in them. I brush off the heaviness that attempts to settle inside of me. It’s not the time. With my head held high, I place one foot in front of the other and make my way down the aisle to the tall, broody man that awaits me.

He’s wearing all black from head to toe. His long hair is pulled back into a smooth bun on the top of his head, and his beard is smooth and trimmed. He looks good enough to eat. His gaze is focused solely on me, and if I weren’t close to hyperventilating at the moment, I’d find it sexy as hell. The closer I get, I can see the blues of his eyes darken into a storm of chaos. Hands hang loosely at his sides, but his attention never wavers off of me until I’m standing directly in front of him. A vein throbs in his neck as he stares down at me. His Adam’s apple bobs against his throat as he visibly swallows. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but judging by the hunger in his eyes, his thoughts aren’t that far off from my own.

The priest, whom he managed to find on short notice, stands next to him and my nerves subside. Being married by a Catholic priest might lessen the consequences of what we’re doing. The priest begins to speak, but his words are lost on me the moment Zane takes my hand. The rough skin of his fingers rub mine in small soothing strokes, reminding me that we couldn’t be more opposite. Then again, they say opposites attract.

Words about love and commitment occasionally filter through my haze, but I keep my attention firmly planted on Zane’s face. He’s my anchor keeping me from floating adrift and becoming lost.

We continue to go through the motions by reciting our vows and saying, “I do.” The cold metal slips onto my finger, cementing us together as man and wife. I’m hit with the sudden reality of the situation. Of what I’ve just done. And my head starts to spin.

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