Francesca fanned her face. “Oh, gawd, it’s just a few minutes away. Sammy, get up and make sure this dress is on me right.”
“It’s fine, really.” Standing, I weaved around Kain, leaving a wide berth. There was never enough room between us. Tucking the ribbons on her corset, I pulled—then nodded. “You’re perfect. Trust me.”
Pulling at the top of her dress, she puffed out her cheeks. “Whoo. My tits are sweating, I’m so nervous.”
“Let’s get you out there,” I said, eyeing the clock. “It’s almost showtime.”
Francesca marched in front of us as we left the room. The plan was to head out a back kitchen door and into the rose garden. The groom wasn’t allowed to leave the pavilion near the front of the house until she was stashed away in her own personal tent.
It was a quick trip, most of the grass was flat and even. When we turned into the garden, I tried to lift my dress and step over a few rocks. My weight shifted too fast—I started to fall, my ankle going out under me. “Aah!”
Firm, strong arms circled my waist and under one arm. Kain cradled me against him, his chest on my mostly naked back. “Careful,” he said in my ear. “Don’t want you getting hurt. Then how will you tempt all the boys with your fancy hip moves?”
One heartbeat. Two. That was how long it took for me to decide I shouldn’t be settling in this man’s comfortable embrace. “Hah,” I mumbled, standing quickly. “That’s ironic, coming from a guy who probably keeps notches on his headboard.”
“Excuse me,” he said, adjusting his crimson tie. “I’m classier than you realize. I keep a list on my laptop, thank you.”
Was it worse if he was joking? Did I want him to be the cocky playboy I’d pegged him for, or was it possible he wasn’t . . . and that scared me more?
Shaking myself, I hurried—carefully—after Francesca. Inside the white tent, her mother and the priest were waiting. “Oh, there you are!” Mama Badd gasped. Ignoring me, she pulled Kain closer. Dusting off his shoulders, she pressed an orange boutonniere into his pocket. “Now remember, you go when the music starts, but not before your cousins.”
“I got it, Mom,” he said, kissing her cheek.
Crouching, Francesca petted her little dog. Someone had set him up with a tiny silver vest, a box tied to his collar. “Mic! You’re so cute!” The dog wiggled, licking her cheek.
The priest smiled kindly. “I’d better get up to the altar. See you in a few minutes.”
“Me too,” Mama Badd sighed. With a final pinch of her daughter’s cheek, she beamed. “I’m so happy. I’ve already ruined two packs of tissues. Make me proud, honey.” Fluffing her dress layers, she slipped out of the tent, followed by the priest.
Francesca stood up, flapping her hands at her hips. “This is it. It’s happening. Ah, oh no, I’m sweating. Can you tell?” Her skin had turned an amazing cranberry color.
“You’re fine,” I consoled her, handing her a tissue from the box someone—probably her mother—had thoughtfully left behind on the table. “Besides, nothing happens until the music begins.”
As if I’d summoned it, the sweet bells careened into our ears.
Kain said, “Now it’s happening. See you, Sis.” He peered out of the tent, then motioned at me. “Let’s go, cousins are already walking.”
Grabbing Francesca in a hug, I laughed. “You’re going to make your husband very happy.”
Squeezing me, she sniffled. “Damn straight.”
“Don’t cry!” I cautioned. “Your makeup!”
Dabbing her eyes, she shooed me. “Go, go! Get out there. See you soon.”
I balanced on my painful heels and followed Kain. The sun blinded me for a moment when we stepped into the open. I lifted my hand to shield myself; in that instant, he linked his fingers with mine.
Such a simple touch shouldn’t have electrified me. It defied all logic, but logic doesn’t care a whit about emotions. It’s just lust, I promised myself.
Fuck, let it just be that.
Together we walked, and true to his word, Kain kept me from tumbling the several times my ankles wobbled. The number of people sitting in foldout chairs was amazing. Was this all family, or friends, or what?
The more I gleaned about the Badds, the more curious I became.
When we reached the end of the aisle, we were supposed to part ways. Kain wasn’t much for tradition, I guess, because he held my hand and followed me to stand on the left of the altar.
Every set of eyes fixed on us. Sweat pooled along my collarbone. “What are you doing?” I hissed at him under my breath.
He didn’t answer, he just let his fingers drag from my palm to my hip. He went further, outlining the shape of my ass . . . the edge of my thigh. Kain didn’t give a shit who saw him or what he was doing.
This was a man on a mission.
I was his mission.
What happened next . . . well, we’ve caught up to the start. Kain tried to finger fuck me in public, Francesca glowed in the sun, and everything looked awesome and grand, and how could it ever go wrong?
That was when the police showed up.
And then my world was changed forever.
- CHAPTER FIVE -
SAMMY
Whatever the floors in jail cells are made of, they had to be pretty hardy stuff. I’d paced back and forth over the same four-foot stretch for about an hour, and amazingly, the ground didn’t show a sign of it.
I was still wearing the ridiculously floofy and too-tight maid of honor dress, though I’d removed my heels the second I’d been freed of my cuffs. Hugging myself, I marched back and forth behind the bars, my teeth chattering. It was cold, but in spite of everything . . . I did have one thing going for me.
I was pissed as fuck.
Fury is good for keeping you warm.
I’d never been arrested in my life. Initially, I’d been terrified for myself—for everyone. The mayhem had been deafening, making me sure that it had to end in violence somehow. When I’d been set on the grass away from the still-gathered-but-dispersing wedding attendees, I’d gotten to finally look around.
Black cars and more obvious police wagons hovered on the fringe of the estate. I could see them around the edges of the house and rosebushes. Slowly a parade of cuffed people began marching up toward the vehicles.
Francesca in her wedding dress . . . lord, that cut hard. But she wasn’t crying; her makeup was clean and crisp. When I followed her glare, how she kept wrenching around to glare at one of the others behind her, I began to get a bad feeling.
“Daddy!” she screamed, shaking her wrists and yanking at the officer who was struggling to hold her back. “What the hell did you do this time?!”
“Francesca!” Mama Badd snapped, dragging the officer on her forward from the pack. “Keep your mouth shut! Mister Finch will straighten this all out.”
“This is supposed to be my wedding day!”
“Francesca, shut it!”
“Up,” someone said, ripping me onto my feet.