Page 47 of Stolen Temptation (Irish Kings #3)

He may have kidnapped me, locked me up, and put a tracker on me…but he also brought me art supplies…shared stories and cupcakes…resisted his own boss to protect me…made love to me.

Rory took risks. He took risks for me .

He put me above himself, his orders, his safety. He made me feel like I meant something to him. And before I knew it, he meant something to me.

Now it’s too late for me to tell him that.

I pray every day that he somehow survived, but I don’t know if it’s possible. He was bleeding out, all alone in a closed bookstore, and no one knew where he was. The owner wouldn’t have arrived until many hours later, and by then, he would have been…

My throat constricts, an invisible fist of grief squeezed tight around it.

The never-ending line of wedding guests and their well-wishes process past me in a blur. It’s as if I’m at the center of a merry-go-round, just spinning in hopeless circles with no end in sight.

With envious eyes, I follow the servers around the room, eyeing bottles of wine and trays covered in Champagne flutes. I desperately want a drink.

My desire for inebriation spikes when abrupt applause spurts up around the room again. My gaze flicks over the well-dressed crowd until I see people parting like the Red Sea around…

My husband-to-be.

A knot the size of a bowling ball thickens in my throat. I swallow it down so hard, my chest aches.

To the soundtrack of cheering friends, family, and associates, Maksim Petrov strides toward me.

In a bespoke black tuxedo with a white shirt, he might be less repulsive if not for the cruel twist to his mouth and the cold light in his beady eyes.

He stares straight at me, his gaze moving over my form, hovering on the way the corset of my dress pushes up my breasts. I want to vomit.

As he struts to my bench and turns to address the crowd, I’ve never in my life been so disgusted.

For at least five minutes, he monologues in Russian, eliciting laughter from the crowd at random intervals. He keeps gesturing to me, his heavy gaze roving over my body, and I start to realize he must be bragging about me. About us.

He slaps a meaty palm on my exposed shoulder, and the clammy heat incites a wave of nausea. It takes everything in me not to flinch away from his touch. Not that any of these people would care. I doubt they even know my name.

As Maksim wraps up his speech, the room fills with the roar of clapping and cheers once more.

Then, slowly, the crowd starts filing toward the far end of the hall, into another room where I assume our vows will take place.

My heart is dribbling in my chest just thinking about walking down the aisle.

“Darling.” Maksim squeezes my shoulder and pulls me to my feet in the same motion.

I shudder and bite back a scream.

“Listen to me.” His thick fingers tilt up my chin, forcing me to look at him. “After the wedding, go straight up to the room. I’m tired of waiting to try out my purchase.”

His lips curl over those horrible words, and then he emphasizes his hunger by licking them.

When I picture him crawling into bed with me, I can’t keep the revulsion out of my voice.

“Don’t you know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony?”

Anger sparks in his eyes. “That’s why I bought you. So I wouldn’t need luck.”

He squeezes my chin hard. When I don’t whimper or yelp, his mouth splits into a vicious grin. “It’s going to be fun breaking you. I can’t wait to see how long you hold out before I make you scream.”

I decide that I’m a hypocrite. When Rory shot those guards outside the auction, I was horrified, but I swear, if someone put a gun in my hand, I’d shoot Maksim dead and still sleep like a baby.

“It’s time.” The small, friendly voice of the wedding planner cuts through our tense standoff. “The sanctuary is all ready for you two.”

Ice rushes down my spine. This is it. In a matter of moments, my freedom will get signed over to this asshole.

Maksim straightens his tuxedo jacket and stalks toward the sanctuary doors. I don’t watch him go because Leo is standing behind the wedding planner, dressed in a black tux and still as smug as he was this morning.

I don’t even bother opening my mouth.

He grabs my arm the way he did when he dragged me out of that bookstore and hauls me toward the sanctuary entrance, following Maksim’s heavy footsteps.

This is the worst day of my life.

I’m being forced to marry a monster, and the man responsible for both the wedding and ending my chance at happiness is going to walk me down the aisle.

The sanctuary itself resembles an oversized greenhouse with tendrils of white petal flowers dangling from the ceiling above.

Large marble pillars line the walls on both sides of the crowded pews.

The altar boasts a display of white roses, in front of which Maksim stands tall and proud, awaiting his bride.

Everyone stands for me. I can’t hear anything over the roar of my racing pulse, but I can see my demise barreling toward me—a runaway train heading straight for a cliff.

I allow Leo to lead me down the center aisle. At the end of the walkway, he shoves me toward Maksim. His version of giving me away. My fiancé takes my palm with a firm grip and pulls me up onto the altar.

I can’t tear my eyes from the sadistic excitement on his face.

And then the world stops making sense.

Pop.

Out of nowhere, a little black hole appears on Maksim’s forehead.

A tiny trickle of blood slides down toward his nose.

Shock widens his eyes for a split second before he collapses.

Maksim hits the ground hard, the crash rocking the altar.

A spray of dark red blood and clumps of brain matter paint the white rose display he stood in front of only seconds ago.

Shock swallows me whole.

Someone just shot my husband-to-be.