Page 11 of Cruel Dynasty

I answered with a tight smile, unable to speak as she helped me into the gown. Like some of the others, it required help from an assistant due to the number of buttons. But I didn’t care. Each one they fastened only made the dress feel more right.

And that was all wrong.

The gown’s fabric was embedded with thousands of tiny crystals, so small that it did little to add to its weight. From the front the dress was a simple, elegant choice. Its bateau-like neckline ran across my collar bone and ended with two artful lace appliques that wrapped over the shoulder. The delicate, glimmering fabric then extended down the arms, stopping just below the elbow, and fastening there with a row of buttons. The natural, precisely tailored waistline would leave no room for speculation about baby bumps, and the skirt swished and swirled around me as I turned to admire it in the mirror. The fabric caught the light and practically glowed. But it was the unexpected back of the gown that had caught my eye. From the front the gown was modest, behind it took on an edge of sensuality that was still sophisticated. Lace framed the sheer fabric that ran from my shoulders to the small of my back, interrupted only by a row of those delicate buttons. She’d been right. I felt like a princess.

But the story I’d wandered into wasn’t mine.

“There,” Christina said, smoothing out the train. When she stood, she grinned widely. “Do you love it? I don’t know why I didn’t pull it before.”

“It’s…” I tried to say fine or okay or something noncommittal but the words lodged in my throat, unwilling to come out. Not when words like spectacular and brilliant and gorgeous existed.

“Let’s show your friends,” she suggested.

I didn’t correct her use of friends. I was too overwhelmed to find any words at all.

As I stepped into the salon, the total silence that fell in the room told me what I already knew. I’d found the dress. I fought the urge to cry, even as heat pricked my eyes. It was a stupid reason to be upset. I’d never have spent that kind of money on a dress. No fairy tale wedding awaited me. But if the world was perfect, and far less cruel, this was what I would wear down the aisle to say my vows. What were the chances that my dress would be the same as Kerrigan’s?

“It’s perfect,” Iris said, voicing my thoughts. Giles could only nod, taking my final hope with it. If he had disapproved, I had an excuse to walk away.

A throat cleared behind me, sending my heart fluttering as I recognized the familiar sound. I whirled around, sending the skirt swirling like a sea of stars around me. My breath caught as my eyes met his green ones.

A muscle ticked in his jaw as our gazes locked. Inside my chest, my heart swelled, a reaction that was becoming dangerously routine to Spencer’s presence these days. I found myself unable to speak as we stared at one another. We didn’t have to. I could see everything he was thinking reflected in the emerald pools of his irises. The dirty thoughts came first, and I could almost picture how he would lift the skirt to take me, unable to wait until the wedding night to consummate our union. But that greedy desire quickly cooled into something more intense—something that felt dangerously like actual love. I saw it on his face. I felt it in my bones. I was in way over my head, and this time it wasn’t a panic attack that left me drowning.

I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “You can’t see me!”

“I can’t…” He repeated the words, confusion taking hold of his handsome face. He flinched for a moment, looking away, and when he turned back, a cocky smirk had replaced the intense longing he’d worn only a moment before. “Still can’t tell us apart, huh?”

Holden. Of course, it was Holden. I mean, why wouldn’t my fiancé’s twin brother show up at my gown fitting? I huffed and lifted the dress, suddenly eager to get out of it and everything it stood for. “What are you doing here?”

“Mother sent me,” Holden said, sounding as frustrated as I felt. “She wanted to be here, after all, but she’s stuck in Seychelles, and, clearly, Spencer can’t come. So she sent me.”

I doubted anyone ever felt stuck in Seychelles. I’d been thrilled to discover she’d be unavailable to dress shop, although I’d been sad to hear Evie would be with her on holiday. Trust her to find a way to make the situation unpleasant even eight thousand kilometers away.

“She also wanted to know as soon as you’ve chosen...the dress.” The word sounded oddly thick on his tongue.

“I think we just did,” Iris said brightly, either oblivious to the tension hanging between Holden and I.

“Yes, indeed,” Giles said, getting on board, even as he watched the two of us warily. “It’s a beautiful choice, Kerrigan.”

Tears clawed up my throat, leaving a raw ache in their wake, but I refused to give in and let them see me cry—let him see me cry. Because he knew the truth. I still didn’t know how. I’d avoided him as much to please Spencer as to protect myself. Now I was certain I’d been right before. I was being punished and Holden had been sent to deliver the final blow.

It took every ounce of determination I had to lift my shoulders and let them fall in a disinterested shrug. “Maybe.”

I didn’t wait for them to argue as I turned and headed back to the fitting room with Christina at my heels. She began to talk about the fitting schedule and what my options were in terms of veils.

“I’m sorry, but this isn’t the dress,” I cut her off. I couldn’t bear the thought of it being her dress. I’d find something else. “I’m certain we’ll find the right one next time.”

“Next time?” she repeated in disbelief. “Let’s not pretend you’ll be back here. This is the perfect dress, so if you don’t want this one, you need to go somewhere else. You’re running out of time.”

“There’s tons of time. I’m sure that the next collection—”

“I don’t think you understand,” she interrupted me. “You have a week, maybe two, to order a gown in time for a December wedding.”

I stared at her before a laugh burst out of me, finally erasing the tears I’d been holding inside me. “If that’s what you’re worried about, don’t be. I’m not getting married until next summer. Plenty of time, see?”

“That’s not…” she paused, confusion clouding her face. “I confirmed the date with your assistant this morning. It’s right here.”

She turned her clipboard to show me the notes she’d been collecting throughout the day. I ignored the comment she scrawled that mentioned I was both indecisive and demanding and skimmed to the note marked ‘date of wedding.’