Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 50828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Isabella seems like Julia’s opposite.
“When your divorce was final, you swore you were never getting married again.”
I tug at my bow tie. “Things change. People change.”
“Sure, but don’t you think marrying this girl you barely know is taking your revenge too far? I was all for it when I thought you planned to take her to bed once or twice. You’d get what you needed to let go of the past, and she’d get a valuable life lesson about trusting the wrong people. Everyone would go on, and that would be the end. But marriage?”
How do I explain that I’m dangerously close to falling for Isabella Shay? Of course she’s gorgeous, but it’s not her looks. Her other intangibles attract me more. She’s smart. She’s kind. She’s eager in bed, responsive as hell, and she looks at me like I’m a god every time I make her come. And she’s so real. The way she clings to me when I fuck her… It’s not just the pleasure. She yearns for something, and based on her history—her parents divorcing, her mom dying, her father skipping out—she wants everything I crave. Family. Future. Forever.
Yes, I drew Isabella into my web for payback. And I’m still getting an epically satisfying revenge…but I’m shocked by how important this girl has already become.
After tonight, after she’s your wife and we’ve started our lives together, how will you feel about her then?
It’s a terrifying but unavoidable question.
“Just…reserve judgment until you’ve met her.”
My brother sighs. “It’s not her I’m questioning. Laurel texted and said she’s lovely. It’s you I’m worried about.”
“I’ve got everything under control.”
“Do you?”
Scowling, I turn to him. “Do you have her wedding band?”
“Of course. And I had Laurel give her maid of honor yours. But—”
“Thank you.”
“Damn it, Nate. Please think about what I’ve said.”
“I have. She’ll come through those double doors any minute, and I have zero hesitation. She’s going to give me everything I want.”
Steve gapes at me. “Holy shit, are you going to—”
“Yes. Of course.” I turn to him, willing him to understand. “She’s my last chance.”
My brother looks ready to object. Thankfully, the music in the hotel’s swanky wedding chapel saves me from hearing it.
I look up and see who I presume is Jen Simpson, a tall brunette with curls swinging around her elbows, big doe eyes, and a pillowy pink mouth that invites a fucking. I’m not interested, but I see the appeal. According to my private investigator, Jen has a colorful love life. More importantly, she’s been a devoted friend to Isabella since they were kids. She’s hardcore loyal to my bride. That’s what matters.
“Maid of honor?” Steve asks.
I nod. “Jen.”
“She’s unmarried? What is wrong with these Gen Z dudes? If I were young and single, I’d snap her up.”
Despite my nerves, I smile. “I’m not sure she wants to be snapped up and tied down.”
“Ah. Well, back in my day, I would have made that fun.”
I know. Steve and I share a lot of the same proclivities. “What about Laurel?”
“Oh, I’m just expressing surprise at the no-dick dipshits of her generation. I love my wife. I don’t want anyone else.”
“Good, I’d have to beat your ass,” I whisper.
Steve huffs. “You and what army?”
“I don’t need an army, bro.” I slap him on the back with a laugh.
Jen reaches the altar, and I smile, holding out my hand. “I’m Nate. Nice to officially meet you.”
“Nice to meet you.” She shuffles her bouquet, and we shake. “If you break my friend’s heart, I’ll kill you.”
Her fierceness makes me smile. “You can stop sharpening your claws. I only want to take care of Isabella.”
As she takes her spot on the other side of the altar, I see the wheels turning in her head. “If that’s true, then…thanks for this morning. She needed the help you sent, especially Laurel.”
I have my suspicions about why, but before I can ask, the music swells again, a dramatic trumpeting announcing the bride. I drink in the vision in white that emerges at the end of the aisle.
Isabella literally takes my breath away. “Fuck me…”
“She’s beautiful,” Steve seconds. “Congratulations.”
I know my brother; he still has reservations, but he’ll shelve them and support me. And I love him for that.
But I hate for my bride’s sake that she had no one to walk her down the aisle. That’s Douglas Shay’s fault, not mine.
With every trembling step, Isabella comes closer. She’s visibly nervous. Even her hand shakes when she takes my outstretched one.
With a squeeze, I pull her to my side. “You look stunning.”
She turns to me, seemingly on the verge of tears, then whips her gaze to the officiant, tuning me out.
What did you expect? You’re forcing her to get married…
“Dearly beloved…” the older man drones like someone who performs this ceremony twenty times a day.
I ignore him. I know the drill. I know the gravity of the words we’re about to speak. Does Isabella?