Page 45 of Fatal Bonds

Someone taps softly on the office door, and I scrub my face back to life, then comb my hair back from my face as I straighten.

“Da?”

The door swings slowly inward, and Liam steps into the room, a garment bag slung over his shoulder. “I found a dress. It’s the best I could find on short notice.”

Considering it’s entirely outside his scope of responsibilities, I’m grateful he found one at all. I just hope the effort will be a small consolation for Lindsey—something to mark the day as a special occasion, even if it’s not a future she wants. “You can leave it there.” I jerk my chin toward the overstuffed leather reading chair tucked into the corner.

He does as I say and heads back toward the door, pausing with his hand on it before he steps out. “I’ll see you at the church in an hour.”

I nod, and the door shuts softly behind him. Now comes the part I’ve been dreading. Steeling my resolve, I stand and collect the dress then head to the bedroom.

“Come in,” Lindsey says when I knock.

She’s already up, her hair freshly washed, and she’s wearing a loose sweater and leggings.

“Time to get dressed,” I state, laying the garment bag and heels Liam left me across the bed.

“Right.” Licking her lips nervously, Lindsey eyes the wardrobe.

Heading to the closet, I collect my tux and dress shoes and head back to the bedroom door. “Lenka made breakfast if you want any,” I state on my way. I already showered in one of the guest bathrooms early this morning, so it doesn’t take much for me to get ready, and I pace in the foyer after a shot of coffee. It’s been cleaned up since yesterday, the shattered remains of the ceramic vase and pool of water-soaked flowers mopped up so all that’s left as evidence is the glaringly vacant table they used to occupy. I doubt Lindsey’s ever been more clear than she is now that my world is no place for her—I’m not the kind of man she wants to end up with. After losing my temper with her so completely, I can’t blame her. Thankfully, one call to my cousin is all it took to confirm she’ll have a safe place in New York.

The soft click of heels crossing the tile reaches my ears, warning me of Lindsey’s approach. But even with the heads up, when she rounds the corner a moment later, I’m unprepared for the emotions that threaten to choke me when I see her. The dress Liam found is marginally suitable for a bride. Even so, the way she wears it steals my breath away. The folded off-the-shoulder ivory silk crisscrosses her chest, molding to her perfect breasts as it hugs her trim waist. The form-fitting skirt stops just below her knees, showing off Lindsey’s calves and the pearl-studded low-cut pumps that could give a man a foot fetish.

Actively working to keep my jaw from hitting the floor, I force my eyes back to Lindsey’s. She’s trained her golden locks into a loose updo with soft curls framing her face. She’s not wearing any makeup—not that she has any here to put on—but she doesn’t need it. Her skin is flawless, her cheeks delicately flushed, her lips naturally a deep shade of pink, but her blue eyes steal the show, their deep blue like the sea after a storm. It takes me a moment to realize why they capture my attention so dominantly today—she’s not wearing her glasses.

“Am I late?” she asks, pausing awkwardly in the doorway as she smooths down her skirt.

Clearing my throat, I tug at the collar that suddenly feels too tight. “No, you’re right on time.”

Her shoulders relax, the tense lines of her collarbone dropping as she walks toward me more confidently as I press the elevator’s call button.

“Decided you’d rather not witness what’s about to happen?” I tease, trying to soften the stiffness between us—but also in case she’s anxious enough she didn’t realize she’s missing her glasses.

“Hmm? Oh.” Lindsey reaches up as if to touch the temple of her gray frames when I gesture to where they should be, then she lets her hand drop. She releases a sharp breath, and her lips curve into a smile that makes me think it was meant as a laugh. “Yeah, I just thought—I don’t know. I wanted to look nice.”

My eyebrows lift in confusion. “You always look nice.”

Color infuses her cheeks, and her breath catches before she drops her eyes. Before the silence can become too painful, the elevator arrives, and we step inside. On instinct, my hand lifts to find the small of her back and guide her, but after what happened yesterday—and the lack of resolution that followed, I don’t want to find out how she might respond if I touch her.

The air feels electric with tension as we ride down together, the short drive even more so as Lindsey keeps her fists pressed firmly in her lap on our way to the nearest church that was available and willing to perform such last-minute nuptials. Her familiar scent of jasmine and citrus is maddeningly tempting, and I’m grateful when I can escape the confined spaces with her.

My men are already at the church—a handful of them, who came dressed for the occasion, though they’re mainly here to ensure nothing goes sideways. Lucian’s here as well, three of his men staying close as we climb out of the car.

“You pulled it off,” Lucian says by way of greeting, his smile broad enough to be genuine as he extends his hand to shake. “And I have to say, your brideislovely. I can see why you’d want to keep her.” His eyes shift to Lindsey, his smile never faltering as he gives her a wink.

I’ve never personally wanted to kill Lucian before, but the gesture makes me consider it—just for a second. Then his attention is back to me, his smile fading as he gets down to business.

“You have the license as well?”

Reaching into the jacket of my tux, I pull out the folded paperwork just enough to show him.

“Perfect. I can’t ask for much more than to watch you both swear before god and the law, can I?” Lucian takes a moment to study Lindsey’s face, and his expression turns contemplative. Then he gestures for us to lead the way into the church.

I glance at her sidelong to find her expression somewhere between horrified and nauseated, and my gut clenches. If we’re going to sell this marriage as proof of her loyalty, she can’t look like she’s marching to her death. Turning, I offer her my elbow, and heady relief surges through me when she takes it, her hand delicately slipping into the bend of my arm as she uses it for support. I can feel her fingers trembling through the layers of my suit, and it makes my chest tighten.

“I know this might not be your first choice, but can you at least try to look happy?” I murmur. “This plan only works if Lucian believes you’ll be loyal to me, and right now, you look like you’re going to vomit.”

Lindsey’s grip tightens on my arm, and her palm splays across her stomach. “To be honest, I think I might. Fuck, can you stall—for just a minute?”

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