Page 20 of The Bad Wedding Date

After my own father had said a few words, it was the groom’s turn, and Lucas stood over his bride and spoke about his love for Emmie. He read every word from the sheets of crumpled A4 paper in his hands—hands that shook the whole time—and all I could think as I watched him was:

He looks like he’s been given a life sentence and is appealing to the court for leniency.

He was a hedgehog about to be run over, begging for his life with false declarations of love in a last-ditch attempt to get the driver to go easy on him, and Emmie sat there completely oblivious. She lapped it up, and between her and my mother, the entire room of strangers were head over heels in love with this ridiculous marriage.

I had to admit they played their parts well. Even I started to become a little convinced that my sister was in love, but then Emmie would flash me a smug look that sent me crashing back down to earth, and I remembered that love didn’t make the elite rich. Only money did that. And money could be made from pretend love if you showed it off enough. If you got people to believe.

Here, the crowds were believing.

But who the hell was I to judge? Really?

She and I were no different today. Yes, Fraser may have been a stranger, but I was as in love with him as Emmie was with Lucas, of that much I was certain. We were both here with men we didn’t really know, with only one of us getting married.

Eventually, Lucas took his seat beside his bride again, and he raised a shaky glass of whiskey to his lips while Emmie draped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her forehead to his as though they were lost in a moment of intimacy. The camera soon appeared in front of them, the lights flashing and blinding everyone within a ten-foot radius.

I must have scoffed or made a noise I hadn’t meant to make because Fraser moved his head to block my line of sight to Emmie, his brows raised.

“What?” I asked before I drained the rest of my wine glass. Was I on my third or fourth now? I couldn’t remember, and it didn’t matter. A server was by my side within seconds, topping me up for the next round. Thank God for The Savoy.

Fraser’s attention fell to the now-full glass of wine.

“Good news for you. The more I drink, the sooner I’ll fall asleep and you’ll be allowed out of here.”

“I’ve already told you; I can leave anytime I like.”

“That’s true. You should probably go now. I’m already broke from this partnership of ours.”

“I’ll get what I’m owed, don’t you worry about that.”

Something about the way he said it made my stomach twist up in knots. Fraser, although lovely and warm towards me so far, had an edge about him—one that made it obvious that he was a man who knew how to handle himself if he needed to. Whether that was in business or on the streets, I wasn’t entirely sure, but I was aware that that edgeshouldhave made me nervous. Instead, I found myself slightly turned on by it.

“When all these speeches are done, I’m finding out about you, Fraser.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“That would take more than one night.”

“If you’re good, maybe I’ll pay you for a second date.”

“Sorry, rebel. This is a one-time-only deal. I’m not a male escort.”

“You should be. You’d make a killing with your rugged, modern, edgy good looks.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Are women into that this season?”

“Every season, Fraser. Every. Single. Season.”

He turned his smile upside down and raised his brows.

“Oh, please. You see yourself in the mirror every day, right?”

“Doyouseeyourself?”

“I’d rather not look while dressed up in this ridiculous outfit.”

“Silly girl,” he said on a sigh, shaking his head.

---