Page 47 of Covert

Dylan let his hand drop, wondering where the other man’s animosity had sprung from. Surely he was the one who’d been wronged in this whole fiasco?

Though with Sam’s penchant for lying, who knew what story she’d concocted for her family, which would certainly account for her brother’s antagonistic behaviour.

“I’ve come to see Sam. Is she here?”

To his surprise, Peter laughed. “No, she isn’t. She stayed at a hotel last night before heading to the chapel. Besides, haven’t you left this a bit late?”

Dylan’s heart plummeted as the words penetrated his brain and he realised Peter was wearing a tuxedo.

Surely Sam wasn’t getting married?

In an instant, the image of Sam and that creep they bumped into at the hotel in Sydney sprung to mind, and it took all his willpower not to shake the truth out of her smug brother.

Hell, Sam had told him her parents had been trying to marry her off to that old fool.

What if Dylan had been stupid enough to push her into the fogey’s arms?

“Where’s the chapel?” He fixed Peter with a stony stare.

Peter shook his head. “Oh no, you don’t. There’s no way you’re going to disrupt this day. Get the hell away from here and leave my sister alone. She doesn’t want to see you.”

Fury surged through Dylan’s body, rooting him to the spot. He had to see Sam one last time, even if it was to tell her she was making the biggest mistake of her life.

She should be marrying him, not some sleazy old creep, and he’d be damned if he let this wedding happen.

He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to calm down, knowing what he said in the next minute could very well decide his fate.

“I love her,” he finally blurted, the words scaring the hell out of him.

To his amazement, Peter laughed and slapped him on the back.

“Why didn’t you say so? You can ride to the chapel with me. Let’s go.”

36

The limousine ride to the chapel was the longest in Dylan’s entire life.

He barely listened to Peter’s small talk, his mind fixed on the image of Sam in a bridal gown being joined in matrimony to old Max, whose name he’d finally remembered.

The thought made him physically ill and he downed several whiskeys Peter handed him, before he realised he needed to be sober to convince Sam she’d be making the biggest mistake of her life marrying Max.

The limo barely pulled up when Dylan threw open the door and sprinted for the chapel.

“Hey, what’s the hurry? There’s plenty of time for you two to talk after the ceremony,” Peter yelled, only serving to fuel Dylan’s urgency.

Had Peter lost his mind? After the ceremony would be too late and Dylan would be damned if he let the best thing to ever happen to him slip through his fingers.

Guests stared at him as he ran through the grounds and burst into the chapel. Thankfully, Sam wasn’t standing at the altar as he’d envisaged, though his relief was short-lived as a minister strolled down the aisle toward him.

“You’re looking for the bride?”

Dylan nodded, swallowing the bitterness that rose at the thought of Sam taking her place in front of that altar without him. “Is she here?”

The minister pointed to a small room near the entrance. “She’s in there, looking absolutely radiant. I’ve seen a few brides in my time, but this one—“

“Thanks.”

Dylan left the minister gaping as he ran toward the heavy mahogany door and pushed it open without knocking.

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