Page 61 of Savage Promises

Lennox

Sitting in my office doing paperback the day after the attack, the shrill ring of my phone makes me jump. I stop writing the email I’ve been staring at for the last hour. I flip over my phone and see Neve’s bridal shop flashing across the screen.

My stomach sinking, I answer, “Hello?”

“Miss Donnelly?” The woman sounds polite with an undercurrent of concern. “I’m calling regarding Neve’s wedding dress. She hasn’t picked it up. We had your number on file from when you booked the appointment.”

The dress is ready. The proposal is tomorrow night. The wedding is in eight days.I need the world to slow down!!

I close my eyes, pinching my aching temple. “Have you called her?”

“We’ve tried reaching her several times and left messages.”

Memories of that fateful wedding dress shopping debacle flash through my mind. Seeing Neve in a gown that she would marry Shane in was so traumatic, that I’ve blocked it out. I didn’t even want to go back to that store to order a bridesmaid dress.

And I doubt they would have let us back in. Neve threw one of her usual tantrums for every beautiful gown the consultant brought out. I’d thought it was nerves, but now I know better. She’s rebelling.

She thinks if she doesn’t spend time with the groom, he’ll change his mind. If she doesn’t pick up her dress, the wedding won’t happen.

This weddingishappening. And it makes me sick.

Seeing that Neve is still in school and has a match tonight, I grab my purse to deal with this. “I’ll come pickit up right now.”

“Thank you, Miss Donnelly. We’ll have it ready for you.”

I hang up and let out a shaky breath. The weight of the wedding, the constant fear that Neve will refuse to show up, or that Garrett’s situation will implode crushes my chest like an iron fist.

Passing the bar, I say to Mara, “I’ll be back in an hour.”

This morning a driver named Paul and a guard named Dorian showed up at The Sterling with a Lincoln Navigator. Shane got Dorian a room at The Sterling, too, and he’s going to be my shadow.

Ugh.

I get into the Navigator that sits idling outside the club and give Paul the address to the bridal salon. Sinking into the leather bench seat, my thoughts spiral at all that can go wrong over the next eight days.

The upscale wedding salon smells of vanilla and fresh flowers. The cheerful atmosphere clashes with the dark dread in my chest.

A saleswoman wearing a measuring tape around her neck greets me with a bright smile. “Can I help you?”

“I’m picking up a dress for Neve Donnelly.”

“Follow me.” She brings me to a spacious mirrored dressing room area. “I’ll be right back,” she says and sashays away.

She comes back carrying a long, thick white garment bag, carefully hangs it on a hook, and turns to me with a radiant smile. “Let’s see how this gorgeous thing looks on you, Miss Donnelly.”

“Oh, I’m not Neve,” I say, holding my chest. “I’m her sister Lennox. I’m just picking the dress up.”

“There must have been a mix-up.” She scratches her head.

“No kidding,” I say under my breath and unzip thebag partway, revealing the jeweled bodice of Neve’s ballgown. It’s stunning, but it’s a lie wrapped in silk and crystals.

Since it looks vaguely like the one gown she didn’t cry in, I zip up the bag. “This looks like right.”

When I turn to leave, the saleswoman stops me. “We have something for you, too, Lennox.”

“For me?”

“Yes, the bridesmaid dress.”

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