Then the music shifts again, and my heart falters as my father turns, regal in a charcoal gray suit, to offer me his elbow.
It’s my turn.
The church is suddenly a tunnel, and I walk through it on my father’s arm. I keep my eyes fixed ahead, my feet faltering when I catch my mother dabbing her eyes surreptitiously in the front pew.
She thinks her daughter is being married off to a man my family hates—but I don’t dare tell her the reality of it.
I just hope she’ll forgive the deception when the truth comes out.
My brothers line the aisle like soldiers ready for war.
And at the altar stands the devil himself.
Raf looks devastating in a black suit, black shirt, and white silk tie, his broad shoulders stretching the expensive fabric to its limits.
His hair is slicked back and his hazel eyes are like flint as they find me.
And a muscle tics in his jaw, which is sharp enough to cut glass.
He stares at me, not hungry, not angry. Just… knowing.
Like I’m an equation he solved years ago, and now all I am is the bottom line to him. A solution to his problem.
I lift my chin. I’m not a girl anymore.
He won’t break me, because I don’t care what he thinks of me anymore.
Still, I scarcely feel my feet moving as my father guides me down the aisle, then turns to press a kiss to my forehead.
His blue eyes are deep pools of emotion as he gives my lace-clad arms a reassuring squeeze.
Then he’s passing me off to the Italian bastard I’m supposed to marry.
Father Malcolm speaks in his thick Dubliner accent as he welcomes the congregation and invites our guests to be seated before smoothly transitioning into a recitation of prayers about love, unity, and God’s grace.
I repeat the words automatically, my voice steady even when my mind screams that this is all a terrible mistake.
But I keep my jaw locked to trap the protest behind my teeth.
Raf takes my hand, his fingers warm, callused, and unnervingly familiar—even after all this time.
I hate that his familiarity can still choke me as my heart jumps into my throat.
Then he slides an ornately detailed ring onto my finger, a two-carat round diamond at its center with glimmering diamond accents along the silver band and cathedral.
I can’t help but stare at the vision of elegance personified.
His thumb brushes my skin, soft enough to be reverent, and it feels like a memory.
I swallow it down, pushing the sensation away, then accept the simple gold band that Siobhan passes to me and slide it onto Raf’s ring finger.
My heart stalls completely as we reach the part I’ve been dreading.
“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
My pulse spikes, my eyes widening as my flight instincts kick in.
Visions of Raf leaning in clash with reality as he moves slowly, watching me, his eyes never leaving mine as he practically dares me to reject him, to humiliate him and destroy this fragile alliance before it begins.