Page 11 of Sweet Wicked Vows
It was cliché to say I imagined my wedding day since I was a teenager. I pictured the perfect white dress—subtle and elegant. My friends would cry with happiness, each of them standing at my side as I said I do. I dreamed a thousand times of Dad walking me up the aisle, my arm in his as he fought back tears the moment I stepped into the arms of the love of my life.
Hell, I planned an entire wedding. The forgotten planner lay under my bed, soaked with tears and ripped pages after Laurence out of the blue broke things off.
Our wedding was supposed to be beautiful. A true celebration of us surrounded by those we held dear.
Instead, my wedding was at a courthouse with no one I loved or cared about around to witness it. No one walked me down the aisle. I wore what I did to work: a gray skirt and a white blouse. The man who slipped the band onto my finger was not the love I always wanted.
Jaxon Dade was practically a stranger to me.
A well-dressed and devilishly handsome stranger, but anunwelcome stranger nonetheless.
“You’re home,” Poppy greeted me with a glass of red wine. “Are you okay?”
I took a healthy mouthful and stepped out of my heels. “Is Flynn awake yet?” Drifting into the living room, I found no evidence that my brother had yet awoken from his two-day slumber. “Has he even come down for a glass of water?”
Poppy shook her head. “Haven’t heard a peep from him. I sent Saunders up this morning to check on him. He assured me that he is still breathing.”
Barely.
Saunders, my father’s personal security, appeared with my brother’s seemingly lifeless body in the early hours of the morning. I was in bed when Poppy shook me awake, her eyes tear-filled with panic. Whatever the hell Flynn was up to, it was not good, considering the amount of drugs and alcohol in his system.
Our doctor paid a visit, happy to take the money for his discretion, and handled things as he always did when it came to my baby brother.
Flopping down on the sofa, I drained the glass of wine and stared aimlessly at the bookshelves lining the walls.
I could feel Poppy hovering, wringing her hands together.
Twenty-four hours. That’s all the freedom I had left.
“Your father was asking for you this afternoon,” Poppy said. “He thinks he is strong enough to come down and have dinner with you this evening, isn’t that wonderful news?”
“Wonderful.”
Don’t you want to tell him our wonderful news?
My stomach lurched at the memory of Jaxon’s voice, the feel of his hand gripping mine, and the not-so-subtle bite in his words as beads of his blood embedded themselves under my fingernails.
“Should I put an extra place setting at the dinner table this evening?” Poppy pushed. “Maybe a bottle of champagne to celebrate?”
“I doubt Flynn will join us for dinner. Plus, he is more of a vodka sort of guy, or is it whiskey these days?” I said. “There won’t be any need to set a place for him. He will likely still be asleep for the next day or so.”
Poppy exhaled dramatically. “Evie, that is not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant.” I tried to smile. My thumb brushed the metal around my finger again. “Not tonight, but tomorrow. No alcohol. I want everyone to have a clear and steady head when I tell Dad.”
She smiled. “Perfect. Any dietary requirements I should know about?”
I shrugged. “Not sure.”
Poppy’s lips turned downward. “Well, do you know if he eats meat or if he is a vegetarian?”
“I have no idea.”
“I know you and Frederic aren’t well acquainted,” Poppy said. “But you have spent time together at functions before. Surely, you’ve seen him eat there?”
“I didn’t marry Frederic Dade,” I said slowly. “I may not have been entirely forthcoming with you when I said I was marrying Mr. Dade.” A sliver of a laugh escaped. “I married the other Dade brother.”
Poppy gasped. “The one you wrote that article on?”