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Jaclyn shuts her eyes tightly, lowering her head slightly as she exhales in defeat. “I’m sorry. I forgot I’m not the only one trapped; we’re in this together.”
“Keep your eyes closed,” I whisper, and press a soft kiss to her cheek. She doesn’t stiffen as I expect her to, instead letting out a relieved sigh. “I can fake a kiss. Closed-lipped. A few seconds too long. We can fool them into feeling like it’s real. When we have to do it during the reception, wrap your arms around my neck, I’ll hold you close to me, and kiss your cheek, just like that. The media will eat it up.”
Jaclyn’s posture remains perfectly straight, but her shoulders slightly relax. “Thank you.”
“Despite what your father may think of me, I respect the sanctity of marriage.” Jaclyn scoffs, but I continue whispering beside her ear, “You and I will shareonekiss. The rest will be a game of how to fool them into believing we’re in love. So, we need to get the details right. Does he go left or right?”
“Right.” We both swallow thickly, and as I pull back, her eyes flutter open. The moment her blue eyes find mine, I’m lost in them, so entranced that I nearly forget her soft reply.
I’m unable to hide my smile, though I have a pang of jealousy that my brother is marrying her, despite his absence today. She never asked for this—she’s more than a prize to be won, especially since she graduated first in her class from college, rightfully stealing valedictorian from me.
There’s a chance I’m very wrong about her. She could be playing her own game, one where she’s not the pawn, I am.
Leaning in once more, I brush the left of my nose to hers. “We’ll get through this. It should only be for the night.”
Our lips a hair’s breadth apart, it takes everything in me to not kiss her; I can almost taste the strawberry and champagne on her. But… she’s not mine, and she doesn’t want me. If she did, I’d already have her dress hiked up around her waist, kissing a hell of a lot more than her cheek.
“Chris!” a woman shrieks behind us, making Jaclyn chuckle softly; we’ve already fooled someone. “You’re needed in the groom’s suite, and you know you’re not supposed to see the bride before the ceremony!”
I pull back an inch, mesmerized by Jaclyn and her deep blue eyes. They aren’t just cerulean, there are streaks of dark navy around the edge of her irises. I’m not sure how my brother got so lucky with such a beautiful and intelligent bride, but those eyes have haunted me, and will continue to forever. She doesn’t tear away, doesn’t flinch, keeping her gaze locked on me.
“Chris will be there in a moment. There was horrible traffic. He’ll be ready in a few minutes,” she replies on my behalf.
“We’re down the aisle in afewminutes, Jackie!” A flash of anger appears in her eyes at the name, a small recoil, but she is otherwise unmoved.
“Jaclyn,” I correct, not wanting to leave the magnificent creature in front of me, “will be in her suite momentarily. I’ll get changed and will need someone to adjust my hair before I’m at the altar. Want to look my best for my future wife.”
Jaclyn’s lips part and she sucks in a sharp breath, drawing my attention to them. If I leaned in, would she let me kiss her?
For practice, of course.
No. She isn’t mine.
“Right this way, Mr. Blake,” the insufferable woman sings as she attempts to pull me from Jaclyn.
I shouldn’t be the least bit attracted to my brother’s fiancée. Coupled by the fact that she’s a Taylor, in no world could she be mine.
Resisting temptation, I willingly follow the woman, and she finally introduces herself as we walk away from Jaclyn. “I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m Lisa, your event coordinator, here to elevate your wedding experience. We’ve had a few bumps, but everything is going according to plan now.”
Everything is not going to plan, Lisa. It’s a fucking shit show
We continue down the hall to the groom's suite. As she opens the heavy wooden door, she asks with a sickeningly sweet voice, “Is there anything else I can assist you with? The groomsmen are staged.”
Chris would bark at her, and I’m no longer Alex. I take a quick breath and growl, “No. I need hair and makeup in here immediately. I’ll be changed in three minutes.” I walk in and shut the door in her face, hating every part of that interaction.
I swiftly change into a tuxedo that fits too snugly, and with things no longer going as they were supposed to, I message the one man who could ruin my political career at the snap of his fingers.
I’m standing in forChris.
The Taylors have been briefed.
As I stuff my phone in my pocket, Lisa is knocking on my door precisely three minutes after I walked in here. I wouldn’t be surprised if I opened the door and found her with a stopwatch.
“Everything all right in there?”
“You’re late,” I grit out, fastening my lavender snapdragon boutonniere to my jacket.
Lisa rushes into the room with two other people—both have short, black half-aprons. One has a variety of brushes and combs, the other with fluffy makeup brushes peeking out.
