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Brianna

A bride was supposed to be happy on her wedding day, wasn’t she?

It wasn’t like the marriage came as a shock. Bri had always known her marriage was going to be arranged. Her purpose was to further Mom’s business interests. She had a responsibility to the family. Mom had parroted on about it enough.

Bri just didn’t think that responsibility would have arrived quite yet. She’d only finished college a few weeks ago. She’d studied the degree Mom had chosen for her—business. She’d hated it, but Mom was paying her tuition, so she’d kept quiet, looking forward to the day when she’d have control over her life.

Was it so outlandish that she expected a modicum of freedom before she was sold off?

That freedom didn’t even stretch to choosing her own wedding gown. The bodice clung to her midriff, cinching her waist in so tight she could barely breathe. Floral beading was weaved into the fabric, just as strands of her hair had become weaved into the beading. Every time she moved her head, more hair was yanked loose, and at this point she would be bald by the time she arrived at the altar.

And if the bodice was bad, the skirts were worse. A waterfall of tulle tumbled from her hips, layer upon layer until her silhouette resembled a literal wedding bell. Floral lace lined the edges, and already Bri was hot and bothered in the worst way imaginable. She let out the deepest breath the corset would allow, dabbing a trickle of sweat from her brow.

“Oh don’t start your bitching,” Mom snarled, giving her a stare that promised a slow death. A look that had only become more vicious since she’d refused Mom’s invitation to join the Syndicate.

“I was just exhaling,” Brianna replied gently, keeping her voice level.

Mom rolled her eyes. The make-up artist applying Mom’s lip liner paused, knowing better than to intervene. “No, you were being ungrateful—as usual. I would have been ecstatic to have been given this opportunity at your age, but instead you’ve got a face like a donkey’s ass. Don’t think I don’t see it.”

As always, the best response was to lie through her teeth. “I’m always grateful for everything you’ve done for me. For all the opportunities you’ve given me.” She smiled, having long since perfected her strategy for deflecting Mom’s anger: fawning over what a wonderful mother she was.

It was all bullshit, of course.

Bri touched the back of her hand to her face to stop another trickle of sweat in its tracks. She gave an inward scoff. With any luck, she’d sweat off all the foundation before she got there.

That had been another point of contention this morning. Mom had chosen her usual make-up artist to work on all three of them today, which meant that Mom and Bri’s half-sister Reina had foundations that matched their skin tone. Brianna, however? Nope. None of the foundations the artist carried were dark enough to match Bri’s skin, but Mom told her to slap it on anyway. Meaning Bri was about to get married—to a stranger, no less—with a face as ashy as a cigarette butt.

The day wasn’t about Bri looking good, after all. It was about Mom looking good.

And she’d picked the right location to do it in. The hotel was as grand as Bri had ever seen. They were in the official bridal suite, a picturesque room large enough to accommodate a vast bridal party. Half of the room was circular, lined with a long, continuous vanity desk in white wood decorated with silver leaves. A similarly lengthy mirror matched it, running the length of the wall and equipped with lighting every few feet to serve a football team’s worth of bridesmaids.

The rest of the room was just as grand, with a circular podium decorated with silver leaves at its edge. In the trifold mirror in front of the podium, Bri could see the floral arrangements dotted around the room—all matching the colour scheme Mom had picked, of course.

As Bri untangled her hair from the beading, Reina stepped onto the podium to give herself a final once-over before the wedding. She may have looked confident, but Bri could tell she was nervous. “What do you think, Mom?”

Mom sucked in a breath, nearly inhaling the make-up artist’s lipstick. “Well, don’t you look fabulous!”

Relief spanned Reina’s expression, although she gave Bri an apologetic glance, as she always did when Mom’s obvious favouritism reared its head. In another life, it would have been easy to hate her sister, but Reina never held it over her head.

Unlike Bri, however, Reina cared about Mom’s opinion. Instead of college, Reina had accepted the first Syndicate position Mom had offered her, itching for the chance to prove herself.

Perhaps that was why Mom had married her off before Reina—as punishment for her independence. Bri could only hope her husband wasn’t as ruthless as her mother.

Aldous Stone.

Mom had given her his name and nothing else, but the internet had provided a little more information. He was a British businessman who’d recently bought a company the Syndicate worked with. There had been no sign of anything illegal, but Bri didn’t expect there to be. The type of people Mom worked with were intelligent enough not to be caught.

She had no information about his personality. Was he going to hurt her? Would he be violent? If he worked with Mom, then Brianna already knew the answer—and that terrified her.

A solitary tear tracked its way down her cheek, but before she could wipe it away a tissue was held in front of her face.

“Here,” Roman, one of the new bodyguards Mom had taken on for the wedding, stood next to her, being uncharacteristically quiet and sending her an affectionate wink. “I love your dress but I don’t think I’d fit in it.”

With a surprised laugh, Bri took it, sucking in a breath as their fingers touched. Warmth seeped into her pores as she looked up at him. For once, his dark hair was perfectly coiffed instead of a windswept mess, but the sparkle in his deep brown eyes remained—despite the scarring over one of them.

From what Koa, Mom’s head of security, had said, Roman was only temping as a bodyguard, and Bri couldn’t help but wonder what his usual occupation was. Judging by the vertical scar that carved through his eyebrow and ended in the middle of his cheek, she doubted he was an accountant.

“Thank you,” she whispered up at him, half expecting his Dalmatian, Jasmine, to be at his side, as she usually was. But of course, Mom had banned her from the wedding.

It was another half hour before Mom decreed that she was ready. Bri’s nerves were a swirling, roiling sea as she allowed Mom to take her elbow, with Reina a few steps behind and the bodyguards bringing up the rear.

The hotel’s interior was just as luxurious as the bridal suite. Their heels clicked along the polished marble floors, passing columns decorated in Mom’s colour scheme—baby blue and metallic silver.

As they approached the towering doors to the garden, Mom stopped her and shoved the teardrop bouquet into her shaking hands. “You’re to do everything that is asked of you. Do you understand?”

Bri nodded blandly, saying everything she knew Mom wanted to hear. She clutched her hands together submissively, her blue-and-silver nails shifting against one another. “I understand. I won’t let you down, I promise.”

Because you dangled the only carrot you had left in front of me.

Her father.

The knowledge of her father’s identity had always been kept from her. It had never been a secret that Mom’s late husband wasn’t Brianna’s biological father—a look at her skin colour was enough to deduce that.

But a few months ago, she’d found a letter hidden deep in the attic—whilst searching for Christmas decorations, of all things.

A letter.

It hadn’t been long. Short enough for her to memorise.

Brianna,

Happy birthday! One day, I hope I’m able to meet you. Until then, please remember that, wherever you are, you have a father that loves you—even if I can’t be at your side.

All my love, Dad

She still remembered the sensation of unfolding it, of reading it, the utter shock of its contents, and the fact that Mom had kept it from her. Bri knew she had a father—she hadn’t been dropped off by the stork after all, but Mom had never mentioned him. She’d certainly never given her any letters from him.

Now that she knew he was out there, Bri hadn’t stop thinking about him, and Mom forcing her to marry had given her the perfect opportunity to find out more.

“I’ll marry him—on one condition,” Bri had said. “I want my father’s contact details.”

Mom had narrowed her eyes, but eventually accepted with a shrug and a, “Fine.”

With one final look of warning, Mom opened the doors into the garden, stepping into the light.

The bright California sun was almost blinding, but beneath their feet the marble gave way to a precisely carved path of paving stones. On either side lay a lush array of baby blue flowers, and Brianna briefly wondered if the hotel planted new ones for each guest—and then she saw where the path led.

It opened up to reveal a wide square terrace overlooking the ocean. Rows upon rows of seats were full of Syndicate members and business partners, and Brianna knew full well the wedding’s only purpose was to impress them. She gave them all demure smiles as she passed by, her long dress train following behind.

Brianna looked everywhere. The luxurious floral arrangements lining the terrace, intertwined with fairy lights and ribbon. The palm trees at each corner of the square. The faces of the guests adorned in silk and diamonds. The distant crashing of the waves on the shore. The string quartet filling their ears with a hauntingly delicate melody.

Until, eventually, there was nowhere left to look but at her new husband.

As she finally glanced at him, a salty breeze blew through the white drapes decorating the altar. Fear quivered through her as their eyes locked, and Brianna found herself at the mercy of his furious amber gaze. Suddenly, she was a gazelle stuck between two predators, and the only thing left for her to do was choose which of them would get to take her life.

Her husband or her mother.

Aldous Stone, the broad, dark-haired executioner waiting for her at the altar, stared so hatefully it made her tremble. Was this her punishment for her independence? Apparently so, because Mom simply tugged her forward, a sacrificial lamb in a ballgown.

But then his focus moved, jumping across to where Roman was making his way up the outer edge of the aisle. There was something dark in his eyes, something she couldn’t put her finger on, but there was no time for her to dwell on it.

As the officiant started to recite his script, she chanced a look up at her soon-to-be husband. He stared at something behind her, and she was pleased to take the chance to observe him for a moment. Anger and hatred were foremost on his expression, the savage lines of his jaw sharp enough to cut steel.

Trying not to think of what would happen when they were alone, Brianna allowed her mother to give her away , to place her hand into that of her new husband—and trying not to react when he flinched. It dwarfed hers.

When it came time for the rings, she was relieved to hear Aldous forgo the tradition. Instead, Brianna put all her concentration into stemming her violent trembling, allowing him to slide the extravagant ring her mother had chosen onto her finger.

All that was left was the kiss.

Aldous Stone loomed closer. His fiery gaze held hers hostage as his shoulders heaved. She stilled, hoping he was the kind of predator whose vision was based on movement—but it was no use.

His breath breezed over her skin, sending a jolt through her body. This close, those eyes were lethal, but Bri could see something besides anger there, a trace of something even more dangerous. In the end, she could do nothing but close her eyes, lift her chin, and wait.

Her husband’s lips collided with hers in a forceful, unexpected move. She let out a small squeak at the feeling of his stubble rasping against her skin, until he pulled back in one swift movement, leaving her unexpectedly cold in the afternoon heat.

A tear escaped from her right eye as the applause began. Bri attempted to hide it, but she saw her husband’s expression darken.

“I truly am so happy to be your wife,” she whispered, offering him a smile that came off more terrified than thrilled.

She’d just signed her life over to this enraged stranger, and now the only thing that could part them was death.