Page 25 of Savage Promises (Quinlan Empire #2)

Lennox

S itting in my office doing paperback the day after the attack, the shrill ring of my phone makes me jump. I stop writing the email I’ve been staring at for the last hour. I flip over my phone and see Neve’s bridal shop flashing across the screen.

My stomach sinking, I answer, “Hello?”

“Miss Donnelly?” The woman sounds polite with an undercurrent of concern. “I’m calling regarding Neve’s wedding dress. She hasn’t picked it up. We had your number on file from when you booked the appointment.”

The dress is ready. The proposal is tomorrow night. The wedding is in eight days. I need the world to slow down!!

I close my eyes, pinching my aching temple. “Have you called her?”

“We’ve tried reaching her several times and left messages.”

Memories of that fateful wedding dress shopping debacle flash through my mind. Seeing Neve in a gown that she would marry Shane in was so traumatic, that I’ve blocked it out. I didn’t even want to go back to that store to order a bridesmaid dress.

And I doubt they would have let us back in. Neve threw one of her usual tantrums for every beautiful gown the consultant brought out. I’d thought it was nerves, but now I know better. She’s rebelling.

She thinks if she doesn’t spend time with the groom, he’ll change his mind. If she doesn’t pick up her dress, the wedding won’t happen.

This wedding is happening. And it makes me sick.

Seeing that Neve is still in school and has a match tonight, I grab my purse to deal with this. “I’ll come pick it up right now.”

“Thank you, Miss Donnelly. We’ll have it ready for you.”

I hang up and let out a shaky breath. The weight of the wedding, the constant fear that Neve will refuse to show up, or that Garrett’s situation will implode crushes my chest like an iron fist.

Passing the bar, I say to Mara, “I’ll be back in an hour.”

This morning a driver named Paul and a guard named Dorian showed up at The Sterling with a Lincoln Navigator. Shane got Dorian a room at The Sterling, too, and he’s going to be my shadow.

Ugh.

I get into the Navigator that sits idling outside the club and give Paul the address to the bridal salon. Sinking into the leather bench seat, my thoughts spiral at all that can go wrong over the next eight days.

The upscale wedding salon smells of vanilla and fresh flowers. The cheerful atmosphere clashes with the dark dread in my chest.

A saleswoman wearing a measuring tape around her neck greets me with a bright smile. “Can I help you?”

“I’m picking up a dress for Neve Donnelly.”

“Follow me.” She brings me to a spacious mirrored dressing room area. “I’ll be right back,” she says and sashays away.

She comes back carrying a long, thick white garment bag, carefully hangs it on a hook, and turns to me with a radiant smile. “Let’s see how this gorgeous thing looks on you, Miss Donnelly.”

“Oh, I’m not Neve,” I say, holding my chest. “I’m her sister Lennox. I’m just picking the dress up.”

“There must have been a mix-up.” She scratches her head.

“No kidding,” I say under my breath and unzip the bag partway, revealing the jeweled bodice of Neve’s ballgown. It’s stunning, but it’s a lie wrapped in silk and crystals.

Since it looks vaguely like the one gown she didn’t cry in, I zip up the bag. “This looks like right.”

When I turn to leave, the saleswoman stops me. “We have something for you, too, Lennox.”

“For me?”

“Yes, the bridesmaid dress.”

“I didn’t order one.” Even though I need to buy something .

“Oh? I had an order for you. Maybe your sister surprised you.”

On Earth Two that would be plausible. “Are you sure you don’t have us mixed up with another family?”

“Donnelly. Lennox.” She reads from a tag on the garment bag and pulls out a mermaid-style lace dress, elegant and sexy with a sweetheart neckline.

It’s gorgeous, the kind of dress that makes you feel like you belong at the center of a spotlight.

Everything a bridesmaid dress shouldn’t look like.

And it’s white .

“I can’t wear this,” I say, shaking my head. “It looks like a wedding dress.”

“It’s the trend,” she says. “All-white wedding.”

I finger the delicate lace. “I don’t know.”

“It’s perfect for you,” she insists, her smile unwavering. “Whoever chose this for you knows you in and out.”

Her words send a flamethrower right at my heart.

Whoever my ass.

This is Shane’s doing. Did he think he’d stand up at that altar and fucking marry us both? Or taunt me to wear a wedding dress while my sister marries the guy I want to marry ?

Before I can argue or melt down further, I’m ushered deeper into the fitting room, helped out of my outfit, and the dress practically thrown over my head.

I sigh, letting the saleslady zip it up. When I turn to look in the mirror, my pulse quickens. For a moment, I don’t see a bridesmaid. I don’t see the sister of a reluctant bride. I don’t even see a nightclub owner juggling too many secrets and lies.

I see a bride.

Pure and simple.

My throat tightens. “I really can’t—”

“You can,” she says firmly, smoothing the fabric at my waist. “This dress looks divine on you.”

It’s a dangerous move. Too dangerous. “And how much?”

“It’s paid for. Along with the wedding dress. We had a credit card on file. A...Mrs. Quinlan.”

My throat closes up. Neve will be Mrs. Quinlan. The name I wanted.

Defeated and heartbroken, I agree to take the dress, if only to deal with this wistful ache in my chest later alone.

Alone, with a guard and driver.

Back in the car, I try calling Neve since she should be done with classes by now. But it goes straight to voicemail. I dig my fresh gel manicure with rounded tips against my knee.

My pulse quickening, I mutter, “Where is she?”

I turn to Dorian sitting next to me. “Do you have Neve’s guard’s phone number?”

“Lars, right?” Dorian blinks. “I can get it.”

Thoughts of my brother weigh heavily on my mind. Garrett is still in a safehouse, held as collateral until this marriage is sealed so the Quinlans will get details on the Albanian armory.

What if Neve doesn’t show up to get married? This entire arrangement will collapse. Then what? I don’t even want to consider it.

Dorian puts down his phone and shakes his head. “I can’t reach Lars.”

“Is it normal for a guard to not pick up?”

Dorian shrugs.

“Should we call Shane or his guard?” I ask.

“Um...” Dorian pulls at his collar.

I get how these guys look out for each other. Dorian doesn’t want to get Lars in trouble.

Neve is either still in school or at home. Where the hell else can she be?

Maybe...with Shane? At his house. My heart rate soars as I call my sister again.

This time, I leave a message. “Neve,” I say in a stern voice. “Call me back, or so help me God.”

A minute later my phone rings, and I grab it, swiping the call without checking the ID. “Hello? Neve?”

“Miss Donnelly?” a strange male voice gives me chills.

“This is Lennox. Who’s this? Where is my sister?”

On the other end, the caller says, “Lennox, this is Charles Gallagher, the broker for your business loan?”

Bastard. I’ve been leaving messages with Gallagher’s assistant for days. Now he calls me. I don’t care about my loan this very second. I want to know where the hell my sister is. “I’m in the middle of something, can we—”

“I regret to inform you that all your loans came back denied,” he says grimly.

“All of them?” I clutch my throat. “Even the high-interest ones we talked about?”

“Those as well. Your proposed income simply isn’t enough security for the insurance company to guarantee a loan of that size. I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” I say, my voice cracking. “Thank you anyway. ”

“I’ll send you a bill for my fee.”

Sure... I’m sunk, but he still gets paid. “Fine.”

I have bigger problems right now. I end the call and stare out the window. Buildings and cars pass by in a blur as we zip through the city streets. The fragile threads holding everything together are unraveling me.

I have to find my sister. I can’t let that fall apart. But as the silence stretches on, I can’t shake the gnawing fear that it already has.