Page 62 of Savage Promises

“I didn’t order one.” Even though I need to buysomething.

“Oh? I had an order for you. Maybe your sister surprised you.”

On Earth Two that would be plausible. “Are you sure you don’t have us mixed up with another family?”

“Donnelly. Lennox.” She reads from a tag on the garment bag and pulls out a mermaid-style lace dress, elegant and sexy with a sweetheart neckline.

It’s gorgeous, the kind of dress that makes you feel like you belong at the center of a spotlight.

Everything a bridesmaid dressshouldn’tlook like.

And it’swhite.

“I can’t wear this,” I say, shaking my head. “Itlookslike a wedding dress.”

“It’s the trend,” she says. “All-white wedding.”

I finger the delicate lace. “I don’t know.”

“It’s perfect for you,” she insists, her smile unwavering. “Whoever chose this for you knows you in and out.”

Her words send a flamethrower right at my heart.

Whoevermy ass.

This is Shane’s doing. Did he think he’d stand up at that altar and fucking marry us both? Or taunt me to wear a wedding dress while my sister marries the guyI want to marry?

Before I can argue or melt down further, I’m ushered deeper into the fitting room, helped out of my outfit, and the dress practically thrown over my head.

I sigh, letting the saleslady zip it up. When I turn to look in the mirror, my pulse quickens. For a moment, I don’t see a bridesmaid. I don’t see the sister of a reluctant bride. I don’t even see a nightclub owner juggling too many secrets and lies.

I see a bride.

Pure and simple.

My throat tightens. “I really can’t—”

“You can,” she says firmly, smoothing the fabric at my waist. “This dress looks divine on you.”

It’s a dangerous move. Too dangerous. “And how much?”

“It’s paid for. Along with the wedding dress. We had a credit card on file. A...Mrs. Quinlan.”

My throat closes up. Neve will be Mrs. Quinlan. The name I wanted.

Defeated and heartbroken, I agree to take the dress, if only to deal with this wistful ache in my chest later alone.

Alone, with a guard and driver.

Back in the car, I try calling Neve since she should be done with classes by now. But it goes straight to voicemail. I dig my fresh gel manicure with rounded tips against my knee.

My pulse quickening, I mutter, “Where is she?”

I turn to Dorian sitting next to me. “Do you have Neve’s guard’s phone number?”

“Lars, right?” Dorian blinks. “I can get it.”

Thoughts of my brother weigh heavily on my mind. Garrett is still in a safehouse, held as collateral until this marriage is sealed so the Quinlans will get details on the Albanian armory.

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