Page 17

I feel like I’m holding a live wire in my chest.

Every breath? A jolt.

Every second? A countdown.

The music starts. Something soft, classical, elegant.

Something orchestral and slow and probably chosen by Lucy’s mother.

I have no fucking idea what it is.

And honestly, I barely hear it.

Because all I can think is— she’s coming.

Connor nudges me, smirking like an asshole in his tailored tux.

“You’re in for it now,” he whispers under his breath.

I don’t look at him. I can’t.

My eyes are locked on the top of the aisle.

“Yeah,” I murmur, chest pounding like it’s about to shatter. “I know.”

And I do.

I know exactly what I’m in for.

Because I’m already gone for her.

Head over heels. Soul-deep.

Completely, irrevocably hers.

The woman the world sees as an heiress, an influencer, a flawless diamond forged by wealth and legacy— she’s so much more than that.

She’s the girl who eats ice cream for dinner.

Who sings operas when she thinks no one’s listening— I heard her when she showered alone before leaving with her father the other day, and goddamn, I was floored.

Who called me when she was scared —me, not her father, not the cops.

And now she’s walking toward me.

Decked out in pure white.

Backlit by sunlight streaming through the stained glass.

Her hair catching the light.

Those blue eyes like fire and ice and everything I’ve ever wanted.

My hands clench at my sides, trying to stay steady.

Because I know what she thinks.

She thinks this wedding is a show.

A reaction.

A duty I stepped into like a contract.

But fuck all of that.

I’m standing here because I want to be here.

Because I love her.

Not just her body— though that curves-in-all-the-right-places figure still drives me insane.

Not just her face— though she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

No. It’s deeper than that.

I love the way she argues when she’s nervous.

I love the little huff she does when she’s right and trying not to gloat.

I love her mind. Her heart. Her goddamn soul.

And today, I plan to marry her. All of her.

And then I plan to make her fall for me just as hard.

She gets closer, bouquet trembling slightly in her hands. Her father beside her, expression stoic, but there’s a twitch in his jaw that says he’s holding back another threat.

I barely acknowledge him.

Because she’s all I see.

Her dress hugs her like it was made by angels.

Her lips are parted just slightly.

She’s biting back emotion.

Good.

Because I want her to feel. I want her to know this is real.

This is forever.

Connor leans closer and mutters, “If you faint, I swear to God I’m posting it online.”

I finally glance at him and snort. “Shut up.”

But my voice is rough.

Because I’m not used to this kind of happiness.

This kind of hope.

And as Lucy reaches the altar, her gaze flickers to mine, questioning— still a little unsure.

I take her hand. Bring it to my lips.

And with a voice that only she can hear, I whisper, “You’re mine now, Angel. And I plan to spend the rest of my life making sure you never forget it.”

Her eyes widen.

Her breath catches.

And for the first time since this all began—I see it.

The beginning of a fall.

Hers.

Right into me.

And damn, but it feels fine.