Page 24 of A Touch of Fate

“We postponed the congratulations to later in the hotel!” Dad announced.

For all I cared, we could have canceled them altogether. This was usually the most insincere part of every wedding, except for the actual vows of love, perhaps.

I held the door open to the limousine.

“Can you help me? It’s harder to get into the car with this dress.”

My mother and I helped Emma into the back seat, and I joined her.

Silence settled between us once the doors were closed, and we were on our way. I didn’t mind silence, but I knew many people did. I glanced at Emma beside me. She was breathtaking. Her hair shone like silk, and her skin was immaculate. My gaze moved lower to the enticing neckline of her dress and the valley between her breasts, then I looked back up. Emma regarded me with a shy smile. “We’re married.” She let out a nervous laugh. She reminded me of her much younger age at that moment. Only eighteen. Yet she had appeared more grown-up in many of our previous encounters, so it had been easy to forget our age difference.

“Indeed.” I cleared my throat. It was obvious Emma was overwhelmed, and we still had a long day ahead of us. “You don’t have to worry. Our mothers planned every moment of today. Wejust have to follow their cues. And the guests won’t care about mishaps as long as there’s food and alcohol.”

I reached under my jacket for the flask Renato had handed me before the ceremony and unscrewed it. “Do you mind?”

She quickly shook her head and watched as I took a couple of gulps. It was my favorite whisky. Lagavulin. Strong enough to burn your throat but delicious.

I held out the flask to Emma. “Liquid courage?”

Emma hesitated, then took the flask from me. She took a sip and immediately started coughing, her face turning red. She handed the flask back to me. “What is it?” she pressed out.

“Whisky.” I took another gulp.

“That tastes like methylated spirit.”

“Trust me, it doesn’t. I have firsthand knowledge from people I interrogated.”

Emma’s eyes widened, then she nodded. Danilo’s treatment of enemies wasn’t for the fainthearted either, but I wasn’t sure how much of his business Emma knew about. “Why do you need it? Are you nervous?”

Was I nervous? This was a monumental step in my life. I was now bound to a woman. Some men didn’t change their actions, but I respected the holy bond of marriage. “No,” I said simply because it was the truth. What came next was the standard social exchange of pleasantries that I detested. What came after was something I’d figure out then. “Are you?”

She bit her lip and cast her eyes down to the ring around her finger. “I have been nervous since I found out I was promised to you.”

I frowned. Her reaction to our bond had been lackluster from the start. Some people wondered why, but I had never really expected Emma to be overjoyed. “Why?”

She looked out the window, obviously unsure how much to share.

“You won’t offend me. Even your brother hasn’t succeeded in a while.”

Emma let out a choked laugh and turned back to me. “I don’t understand why you two detest each other so much. You aren’t so different.”

“I reckon that’s the problem,” I said with a shrug. Though, I didn’t really think that Danilo and I were really very much alike. We were alphas. That was the only thing we had in common. “But you’re avoiding my question. Why were you nervous when you found out we were promised? Would you have preferred to marry someone else or not at all?”

“No, neither,” she said and blushed. “You’re older and more experienced in many regards, so that’s definitely a factor.”

I could tell that wasn’t the entire truth. “That’s not a disadvantage,” I said in a low voice. I could have said more, but I didn’t feel we were quite there yet. I wasn’t sure how to handle her.

She looked down at her hands with a thoughtful expression. “You’re very aloof. I worry it’ll be hard to break through your shell.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted her to succeed. She wished for this deep sort of connection, and whenever I saw my parents share a moment, I, too, wished for it, but this level of intimacy brought risks. “We’re there.”

Emma glanced my way as if hoping for an answer, but I didn’t want to give her false hope.

My eyes took in the ivy-covered front of the Van Delden Mansion we’d picked as our wedding venue. It was the best hotel in Minneapolis. Samuel had merely agreed but not really been involved in the decision-making. My heart filled with joy at the sight of the facade made of pink Sioux quartzite. It was a place I expected to find in the French countryside or in England, but not in downtown Minneapolis. I’d fallen in love with the venue the moment Ines had sent me photos of it, and I’d convinced my mother to agree even though the ballroom had a limit of 175 guests.

The driver took my wheelchair out of the trunk, and Samuel helped me sit down. I tilted my head up, taking in the impressive building. The rain had stopped, which was fortunate, considering we wanted to take wedding photos in the garden. Samuel pushed me down the pathway that led to the gardens. Our photographer waited for us beside a gazebo. My mother and Ines joined us soon after.

“You can access the gazebo with your wheelchair,” the photographer said.

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