Page 89 of Invisible Bars
“Good day, Reverend.”
I patted his shoulder, then turned my back without another word, stepping into the shadows.
See, when a man like me says “forever,” it doesn’t just apply to vows. Because my forever? It’s the type that would haunt a person’s bloodline.
Chapter Twelve
NAJI
Istood in front of the mirror, sweating like a sinner in Sunday school. And I wasn’t even in a real wedding dress; just a soft ivory sundress Ms. Shirley had steamed like it was designer couture. It hugged my small curves gently, the fabric light and innocent—something I wasn’t sure matched the circumstances.
My hair had been pulled back into a low puff, but a few stubborn strands kept springing loose like they had minds of their own. My palms? Slicker than a politician’s handshake in election season. I cleared my throat, then immediately had a tic. My shoulder rolled sharply and my fingers flicked against my thigh in a staccato rhythm.
This is really happening. I’m really about to marry the man who kidnapped me—sort of.
Imanio was also the same man who tucked me in when my body shut down from anxiety, who brought me food when I refused to eat, retrieved my teddy bear like some vigilante Build-A-Bear agent with a violent streak and a soft spot, and who hadn’t asked me to marry him but basically told me I was going to.
My head jerked suddenly at the sound of the door creaking open. I tried to breathe evenly as I turned towardhim.
My stomach did a somersault.
Imanio stepped into the room and stood a few inches away, dressed in all black—no tie, no boutonnière—like someone who didn’t know the difference between a wedding and a funeral. But somehow, it worked. His attire consisted of a black turtleneck, black slacks, and some ridiculous cologne that kept floating into my nose every time he moved.
Imanio stared at me like I was a damn miracle.
The kind you don’t pray for out loud because you’re afraid God might take it back.
My brow twitched and my lip jerked. “Is… Is something wrong? D-Do I need to do my hair a different way?” I asked quickly, bracing myself for criticism.
His eyes didn’t waver. “No. You look… perfect.”
Perfect? Coming from him? That’s unexpected.
A blush crawled up my neck before I could stop it. I dipped my head and fiddled with the edge of the sundress, muttering a tic under my breath. “Hot damn—I mean, thank you.”
He gave the tiniest smirk. “You ready?”
“As ready as a h-hostage bride can be,” I mumbled sarcastically.
Imanio hadn’t told me where we were going. That wasn’t some fairy tale, so I knew it wouldn’t be held at a church and damn sure not a courthouse.
Before we stepped outside, Imanio paused and turned to me. I knew that look—calm but layered.
“Naji,” he said, his voice low but edged with command, “I know we don’t know each other that well… but understand this; I’m doing this for both our protection. So hear me clear: don’t try nothing crazy while we’re out. Don’t try to make a scene or run. Because if you do, I promise you won’t like how I handle it.”
My body twitched before I could respond.
“I-I won’t!” I rushed out.
Imanio studied me longer than necessary, then gave a slight nod.
“Let’s ride.”
I slipped into the back of his Rolls Royce Phantom and tried not to shrink into the plush seats. My fingers danced restlessly against my knees. I stared out the window; the buildings passing like blurs. The silence between us sat heavy… until I noticed his phone.
It kept buzzing… once… then again… and again.
Imanio never answered or silenced it; he just stared out the opposite window like none of it mattered.
