Page 1 of Twisted Love

CHAPTER1

EARL

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e3-5YC_oHjE

-I still haven’t found what I’m looking for-

The lilies reek.

I fucking hate lilies.

I learned to hate them because of her. Lilies are for funerals, she used to say. Their strong sweet cloying perfume used to suffocate her and make her feel faint. And yet they seem to be the main theme of the décor of her wedding. The church looks like a glamorous winter woodland, but it doesn’t fool me. Not for one second. Nothing about this charade does.

Clearly, the bride had no say in her own wedding arrangements.

But I know who did. Her new mother-in-law, the high and mighty Mrs. Evelyn Belafonte, sitting in the front pew in her Chanel two-piece cream suit, her back ramrod straight, absolutely furious that her beloved son is marrying beneath him.

Well, I might be able to help there…

Sitting on the last pew of that cold, lovely church, farthest from the altar, I can’t take my eyes off the blushing bride.

Raven Moore stands with her head bowed under a delicate veil, the soft lace spilling over her shoulders. Her dress fits her perfectly. It is elegant and understated, exactly what she dreamed about when we were dirt-poor kids living in the caravan park down the road. When she used to talk about this day like it was some kind of magical fairytale ending. Back then, fool that I was, I pictured it too.

Only in my version, I was the one standing beside her. I believed her, you see. Then, I believed we were one. No one and nothing could separate us. Not even death. Our love would last even beyond the grave.

‘If I should die first, I will haunt you until you join me,’ I vowed.

‘Yes, you must. I wouldn’t have it any other way,’ she whispered back fiercely.

I stare at her now and my fists clench into blocks of hate. He lifts her veil and I want to rush forward and knock his hand away. I hate her, but she is mine forever. If I cannot have her love then I will have her hate.

Not yet, I remind myself, as I watch her get ready to say her vows to a man I’m certain she has no feelings for. How do I know?

Because she is a gold digger.

A beautiful liar.

She can always be counted on to sell herself to the highest bidder. That is her downfall and perhaps it will be mine too. But I’m already dead inside. All that is left is my need for revenge. It eats at me, sharp and unrelenting, day and night, and follows me into my nightmares.

My gaze shifts to Charles Belafonte, the ‘lucky’ groom.

He stands tall and proud. He always was too smug for his own good. His handmade suit puts the finishing touch to this elaborate charade. His hand hovers close to hers, brushing against her fingers like he already owns her. His mouth is curved in that signature smirk, the one that used to make me want to wipe it off his dumb face with a fucking baseball bat.

He hasn’t changed.

I haven’t changed either. I still want to rip that arrogant sneer off his face and crush it beneath my heel until it becomes a howl of agony.

My jaw is clenched so hard it aches.

And Raven... She just stands there like a statue carved from some pale stone. Her head bowed as if she couldn’t bear to look at him. Or maybe she’s trying to hide her misery. Good, I hope she feels miserable. She deserves to.

Why shouldn’t she feel as hollow and broken as I did the day I stood behind the door and heard her say the words I will never forget as long as I live?

Sure, he’s a good kisser, but he has no prospects. A loser. A grease monkey. I’m only with him temporarily. As soon as I find someone with money—real money—I’m ditching him.

The words slam into me like they did back then, cutting deeper than they have any right to after all these years.

Real money.I turn my attention back to Charles. Sorry, but that won’t be you, Charles, my boy. His wealth, his status—it’s all gone. He’s living a big fat lie. He’s nothing but a fraud, senselessly and quickly blowing up even the last scraps of wealth his father left behind.

---