Page 12 of Never Sleep with the Enemy

“Sweetie, relax,” Angie soothes, her voice light. “It’s not like you’re marrying the heir to a billion-dollar fortune with one of the most recognizable faces in rock music. Oh, wait…”

Marla nearly faints.

And I keep smiling.

I smile as I fan her face, being careful to keep her makeup flawless. Penelope’s fingers work through Marla’s hair, twisting it into elegant waves that fall around her shoulders like spun rose gold. As Jen and Veronica share stories of their perfect lives as Botsford wives (or wife-to-be-maybe-someday-probably in Veronica’s case), they help her focus on the future rather than the whirlwind of nerves gripping her.

Soon, Fiona steps in, the soft click of her heels on the floor signaling it’s almost time.

Marla rises, nervously smoothing down the front of her dress as Fiona leads her to the mirror one last time. Her plump cheeks flush a shade that matches the fiery red of her hair, her white gown clinging to every curve, the fabric shimmering as it catches the light. The train spills gracefully behind her, pooling gently on the floor like a cloud.

She looks at herself in the mirror, excitement and panic warring in her expression. She hasn’t seen Jonah in person in three months, not since the start of the Break the Rules tour.

To my surprise, she turns to me, looking for reassurance. “How do I look?” she asks, her voice small but full of hope.

“Perfect,” I answer, my throat tight with emotion.

Her eyes shine with doubt. “Yeah?”

I nod, blinking away the tears that threaten to fall as I adjust the delicate veil, the fabric soft against my fingertips. “Yeah,” I say, my voice thick. “Jonah is going to lose it.”

She chuckles nervously and closes her eyes, trying in vain to smother the tears welling up behind her lashes.

A knock on the door behind us, and Oliver pokes his head inside, his eyes pinched closed with caution. “Is it safe?” he asks.

“Come on in, Oli!” Marla says, sniffling, her smile breaking through her anxiety.

He steps in, eyes widening when he sees her. “Wow,” he breathes, his voice full of tease and awe. “Look at the princess.”

“Shut up,” Marla grins, performing a half-assed curtsy.

Oliver offers his arm with a dramatic flourish. “Shall we?”

Marla takes a deep breath, giving herself one last look in the mirror. After a pause, she nods, a soft exhale escaping her.

And I keep smiling.

5

KATRINA

Addison and I walk briskly down the aisle together, our heels in perfect sync as we take our places near the front of the chapel on the bride’s side. Technically, we’re both bridesmaids, but Marla asked us to play her down the aisle—and who would say no to that?

Also, I rarely get the chance to play my violin anymore, so I jumped at the opportunity to keep my skills sharp.

My fingers tingle with a familiar excitement as I settle onto my stool, resting my instrument gently against my thigh, the bow clasped in my other hand. I adjust my music stand, my sheet music neatly arranged, though unnecessary. We practiced this week until the notes were second nature. We hold our position in silence, waiting for the signal from Harvey at the back of the chapel.

As I wait, I scan the crowd. Familiar faces smile back at me, including Kingston and Fiona in the front row, the ever-loyal Milly by their side. But there are plenty of unfamiliar faces, too. Jonah and Marla argued for a smaller wedding, but there are just certain obligations a Botsford event must fulfill. The bride’s side is small, with only a few of her friends from work and school. The rest of the chapel is filled with longtime Botsford business associates and extended family.

I briefly meet the gaze of Ian Botsford, Jonah’s cousin from Chicago. He gives me a sly wink, which I accept politely before quickly shifting my focus elsewhere.

“Damn,” Addison mutters teasingly in my ear. “Cutie rich boy has eyes for you.”

“I noticed,” I murmur, uninterested, as I glance over at her.

Addison, ever the inquisitive one, looks back with a raised eyebrow. Her acoustic guitar is slung across her body, held firmly in place by a white leather strap.

“I’m fine, Addison,” I say, cutting off the obvious question in her eyes.

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