“Relax… Relax, Lauren, he’ll show,” my friend, Hannah, says, with as about as much conviction as telling someone the Earth is as flat as a frying pan.

Her feigned confidence only makes me pace harder, my heels threatening to plunge through the church’s wooden floorboards. My wedding dress—that was fitted two days ago—trails in my wake, toppling over boxes of shoes and makeup and ribbon.

“Who shows up late to their own wedding?”

My chest heaves, heightening my blistering annoyance. I breeze past Hannah—dear, sweet, sweet Hannah—who, in hopes of calming my mania, holds out a flute of sparkling wine.

Like that’ll help.

“Who does he think he is? Tristan Walker.” I spit out his name.

The whole cherry on top of being forced into an arranged marriage by my mother to save our family’s company is that my husband-to-be is a complete nobody. One quick search online spills next to nothing about the supposed crypto-billionaire who lives several miles from my parents’ estate—if that’s even true, seeing as I couldn’t find a single photo of him online.

No one can be that invisible, can they?

“Maybe there was traffic…” Hannah’s voice wobbles, but not even that dampens my rage.

“Ohhh, sure.”

With sunny rays casting against me from a nearby window, I stare at my reflection in the full-length mirror, wearing a frown.

The white dress fits me like a glove, accentuates my curves, and hikes my breasts up with a hidden corset. Professionals have poked and prodded me since five a.m., sparing no details. Eyelash extensions. Hair extensions. Makeup. Nails. A spray tan. The whole nine yards. Meaning, I look fucking hot—I’m a hot bride. On top of that, by the end of today, this man’s getting half our family’s shares of Astor Security.

And he still can’t give me the time of day.

The heavy diamond looping around my finger feels so foreign, it might as well be a Ring Pop. No, wait, a Ring Pop would be better, actually. Would carry more substance. At least it would’ve come from some boy who had a crush on me during recess, not from a no-faced ghost.

“What a joke,” I scoff, resuming my pacing that’s now more like stomping.

Given normal circumstances, this is around the time I’d be celebrating the big moment to come, taking pictures with my bridesmaids and family. But these aren’t traditional circumstances. I’ll never experience that. I’m lucky I even got to pick my bridesmaids, and that they were in town on such short notice. No, this is nothing but a sham, a downright—

“You’re sure abusing that exquisite dress of yours.”

I stop dead in my tracks, recognizing the voice immediately. Whipping around, I find my older brother leaning against the doorframe, dressed in an all-cream suit, with his fiery hair perfectly tousled like always.

“Felix!” I run to him. On our embrace, my anger pools around my ankles, relief taking its place. “Thank goodness. I wasn’t sure if you’d make it.”

Over his shoulder, Hannah whisks by towards the door, offering me a sympathetic smile. I wave her off, pulling away from my brother.

“You never have enough faith in me. I wouldn’t miss walking my only sister down the aisle for anything.”

The air in my lungs whooshes from me. Never in my life would I have predicted my father missing my own wedding. Even if the ceremony is all a fraud, I’d still prefer him to be the one to hand me off. Maybe that would give me more confidence in this decision.

But it wasn’t a decision, I remind myself. What choice did I have? Let everything my father’s worked so hard for crumble to the ground?

“Plus, Hannah called me in as backup,” he adds, pulling me from my thoughts. When I look back at him, he winks, prying a snort from me.

“I’m sure she did. The poor girl had to stomach my hellish mood for over an hour.”

His eyes twinkle with amusement before an abrupt silence grows between us. Then his smirk vanishes, a somber guilt clouding his stare.

“Don’t,” I blurt out before he says anything. “Mom’s right. This is the best option for the family, and none of that’s your fault.”

“Yes, it kind of is, Lauren… You’re the one who’s always been so focused. That’s supposed to be my job, as the oldest. Yet, I’m the one who never pursued the internships Dad offered me over the years. This sort of pressure shouldn’t be on you.” He adjusts his cufflinks, avoiding my gaze with an unmistakable waver to his tone. “I’ve been away too long—”

“No.” Tears prick my eyes.

I haven’t seen my brother in over a year. He’s been abroad in Greece and Italy and Spain and who knows where else, “living the high life” in the words of our parents. As if they truly know him. Like they weren’t the ones who pushed him away for being gay.

There was never an explosive fight—at least, not coming from their end—and maybe that was the problem. No counseling, no adult-like talks, no emotions. Instead, our parents resorted to belittling silence, their rationalizations ranging from him simply being in a “traveling phase” to “he’s distracting himself from his future.”

I’ve never once blamed Felix for being unable to withstand them anymore. Because we’ve always been so close, I completely understood when he first extended his European trips to two weeks, then two months, until he flat-out moved away. He’s created a whole new, happy life for himself, one where he’s not treated like some disregarded shadow that our parents can mold into whatever they want.

“No,” I repeat. “You know how I feel about that. So, don’t get me started.” Batting the tears away, I curb my emotions, lest I smudge my makeup and make this whole day even worse than it already is. “I’m going to be fine. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get some hot sidepiece to fool around with.”

Rolling his eyes, I earn a smile from him, which lifts the heavy feeling in my chest. “Whatever you say.”

“And, plus, you’re the one who’s newly engaged.” I nudge his shoulder before bringing up his hand, inspecting his gold ring. “Dimitri is one lucky guy.”

“Jeeeez.” Eyebrows shooting to his fiery-red hairline, he homes in on the diamond looping around my own finger. “I know we’re assuming this Tristan guy sucks, and he’s a billionaire and all, but that’s a shiner…” Awestruck, he angles my finger left and right, eliciting thousands of sparkles against the sunlight. “Absolutely stunning.”

“You know he sent it to my apartment through the mail?”

“What? No…” His shoulders slouch as disgust lines his features.

“Yep. My doorman delivered the box to my doorstep.”

“Yikes.” He drops my hand quickly, as if he might catch some bad juju. “Talk about zero class… Hey, maybe it’s not too late to lawyer yourself up an ironclad prenup before you two officially sign the papers. Whether he’s loaded or not, the real money’s in those company shares.”

A sad chuckle escapes me. “Unfortunately, I think we’re well past that stage.”

The shares are the whole reason he’s marrying me. Sure, the recluse will have to take the reins on the company, assuming a smooth transition of leadership, but my father’s already built the business up to what it is now. And if he’s truly the genius computer whiz my mother and half the internet says he is, he’ll have no problem calling the technical shots. As for the investigation, he’ll have me by his side, answering all the legal questions—which can’t be too difficult. My family has nothing to hide.

I can’t help but think he got the better side of things.

Music trickles in through the doorway, signaling the sure entrance of the groomsmen and bachelorettes—a whopping two on each side.

The ceremony has begun.

My throat bobbles, and unexpected nerves take hold of me. Although hordes of people looking my way never make me the slightest bit nervous, there won’t be much of a crowd. My mother planned it that way. “Less questions the better,” she had explained. But questions and eyes aren’t what have me sweating bullets.

Walking down the aisle towards a man I’ve never met? That’s pushing me to the edge of my limits.

Feeling vexed, and in need of a distraction, I force a laugh. “He’s probably ugly.” Smugness settles comfortably in my core at the thought of him being on the losing side of some part of this arrangement.

“You’re right.” Felix offers me his steady arm, lips curling upwards. “I’m sure he’s positively miserable. Ghostly pale, flabby, acne and all. No wonder he never leaves his house.”

Upon our entrance, a reverent silence blankets the room. I clutch onto my brother’s arm, the big moment passing at an agonizing yet lightning speed.

“Oh, shit…” I overhear Felix’s quiet mumble.

“It’s worse than we thought?” I hiss under my breath, lips twitching.

With the thickly embroidered veil covering my head, I’m unable to get a good look at Tristan. Only a vague outline of his suit-clad body standing at the altar, along with a kaleidoscope of colors radiating through the stained-glass windows behind him.

I puff out a breath against the fabric, frustration nipping at me when the film doesn’t move the way I want.

Damn this thing.

Kicking out my toes so I don’t trip over the dress’s front lip, our footfalls glide across the velvety carpet. But with each step, my brother feels less like a comforting chaperone and more like a stiff board.

“Is it?” I pry him again, deathly quiet.

Judging by my impaired vision, we’re nearly there, and he still hasn’t loosened up.

“H-he’s…” His voice dies out.

Wow. He can’t even finish his sentence. Satisfaction burns down my core. He must be downright hideous.

Felix stops us, and the music fades to a hush. Although we didn’t rehearse, I know what comes next. My brother takes my hand, his clammy with jitters, as heavy steps approach.

When Tristan halts before us, my heart thunders. Even without seeing him, there’s an unmistakable presence, as if we’re minor constellations moving to his gravitational pull. Through an opening in the embroidery, I catch deep brown eyes staring back down at me, confident flames eddying beneath them.

“I, Felix Astor,” his voice booms across the space without waver, ushering my hand to an unfamiliar one, “in place of my father, Nicholas Astor, hand over my beloved sister in your hand in marriage.”

My breath hitches, a wave of intrigue hitting me on the contact. Rough and calloused, his skin is nothing like I would’ve guessed, and when Tristan’s deep tenor thanks my brother, a simmering heat peruses down my spine. His warm thumb caresses along the top of my hand, as if he’s branding me, invading my space, crawling underneath my skin and leaving it brightly burning.

Snap out of it, I scold myself. You can’t get all hot and bothered before you’ve even seen the man. Plus, you heard Felix’s reaction. He’s uglier than dirt. He’s—

The veil lifts over my head, dangerously slow, only to reveal something so contrary, my mind can’t quite comprehend, leaving my knees weak.

He’s… devastating.

Lifting my gaze to his impressive height, I’m met with tan skin, a square jaw, and a cocky smirk. His brazen stare roams down the length of my dress before flickering back to my face. And when his eyes drop to my lips, a familiar thrumming between my legs beats to its own accord. Fighting the unwelcome desire, I avoid his haughty gaze, instead appraising his suit.

But that proves even more distracting.

He could’ve been born in the white tuxedo he wears, because not an inch of fabric hangs loose along his broad shoulders. And it’s not until I catch the tattoos peeking out his collar, that I really study him.

Before I know it, I’m tracing the black ink with an unashamed precision, up half the length of his muscled neck, then down past his cufflinks on the backs of his hands. My eyes seem to move towards them, a blurriness roaming across my vision, before I sway backwards, then I’m—

Falling?

Gasps ring out from the pews, as weightlessness claims me, and I’m helpless but to stare up at the church’s breathtaking ceiling. Beige stone gracefully arches through ribbed vaults, converging into a single domed peak, and stained-glass windows depict ethereal scenes with robed saints.

Blackness creeps across my vision, pulling my consciousness from the present, until a pair of strong hands scoop beneath the arch of my back. Held in a dance-like dip, I suspend in the air, curved with my hair cascading down to the floor as the light returns to me.

My heart pounds in my chest when Tristan’s striking features come into view. Not a nervous line marks his features, only a cool, collected calm. I furrow my brow. He can’t be more than a few years my senior, but there’s no mistaking the mature aura he radiates.

Anxiously waiting to be pulled up from possibly the most embarrassing moment of my life, I’m struck with shock when he instead leans in, until his minty breath is merely inches from my nose. His dark chuckle sends goosebumps soaring across my arms, flashing me a row of porcelain teeth.

“Look at you, all dolled up and weak at the knees before I’ve even consummated the marriage.”

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