Page 73 of Desperate People

I’m wearing white.

Brilliant white at Balor’s insistence.

He wouldn’t hear of anything else, and I have to admit I’m glad.

White looks good on me.

The gown hugs my curves in all the right places, fitted at the waist, with delicate off-shoulder sleeves and tiny pearl buttons down the back.

My hair is twisted in soft waves, crowned with fresh flowers. The makeup artist said I looked “timeless.” I just feel... unreal.

“Are you ready, darling?”

I turn toward the voice.

My mother walks into the room, radiant as always in her signature pale blue.

She’s graceful, calm—like the sky before dawn—and somehow more breathtaking today than I’ve ever seen her.

She crosses the room without hesitation, her hands lifting gently to adjust the flowers pinned into my hair.

“Mom?” My voice cracks around the single word.

Because I’m dazed.

And terrified.

And kind of in awe of everything that’s happened.

I never imagined my wedding day would look like this.

Ever since Daddy barged into Balor’s bedroom three days ago, finding me tangled up in the sheets with the man himself, my entire world has spun off its axis.

There was yelling. Threats. Ultimatums.

Then—out of nowhere—wedding plans.

And I didn’t stop it.

Because Balor didn’t hesitate.

While my father stomped around making demands and hurling insults, Balor just stood there.

Still naked, still calm, still unapologetically claiming me like I was something he sought.

Something he wanted.

Like I wasn’t a mistake.

In three days, I’ve gained a ring, a fortress-level security detail, and a prenup thicker than a Russian novel.

Balor gave my father access to everything—his finances, his assets, his history, his contacts. All of it.

It should have pissed me off.

It should have felt like business.

But it didn’t.

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