Page 7 of Revenge

I smother a laugh. Thank God for Bea, or I’d never make it through this day.

She takes the arm of her groomsman and walks down the aisle.

I don’t see Britt, my Maid of Honor. Maybe she already walked? I’m confused.

The flower girl heads down the aisle tossing her rose petals.

“Our turn.” My dad holds out his arm.

As I take it, I realize that he, too, looks terrible. I stop. “Dad? What’s going on?”

He’s sweating. Breathing hard. It looks like he’s about to keel over. “Did your mother talk to you?”

“Yes, but I don’t understand. What’s happening?”

“Just walk down that aisle and say your vows to the man on the other side, and we’ll all make it through this day.” He tugs me forward into the nave.

Eight hundred bodies stand as the violinists begin Wagner’s “Bridal Chorus”.

We’ll all make it through this day.

My feet move forward. The train of my gown swishes behind me. I can’t figure out what my dad is saying. None of this makes sense.

The guests turn expectantly my way. I hear murmurings, but they aren’t about how lovely I look. There’s a buzz of wondering whispers.

Who is she marrying? Where’s Jake? What’s going on?

I widen my pasted smile and look to the end of the aisle at my groom.

That’s when I realize that it’s not the future mayor of New York City standing at the altar waiting for me.

It’s someone else. Someone with dark hair watching me intently.

Now I understand what my parents meant. I’m marrying someone else today. And it’s life or death.

The air rips from my lungs as I grow closer.

My God.

It can’t be.

It’s him. The guy from the ball.

Chapter Two

Antonio

Dahlia drops her bouquet.

Her lips part.

Benedict stoops to pick up the cascade of roses and hands it to her. “Say your vows,” he hisses as he deposits her at the altar and lifts her veil.

Dahlia hasn’t looked away from me, her pale blue gaze locked in mine. She whirls to look over her shoulder at her mother, crying in the first pew. Then she scans the exits, no doubt noting I have every one of them covered.

“Nowhere to run, Dahlia,” I murmur. “You just got sold into slavery.”

I say it to be cruel. To punish her for her father’s misdeeds. And hers.