Page 2 of Wretched Heart
The feud with Barrett is personal, and I don’t welcome the emotions it engenders. I can usually channel my anger to better effect, redirecting it into something empowering and constructive, but my loathing for the Emersons and everything they represent is a dark and bitter poison that’s flowed through my veins for as long asI can remember. I’d like to say it ends here, but this is just one more battle.
I push hard on both doors, and as they swing open, I hear the pastor’s voice.
“If anyone here present knows of any reason why this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
“Oh, if you insist,” I say as one of the swinging doors hits an iron candelabra. Candles flicker and wax spills as it crashes to the floor with a clatter that echoes through the otherwise hushed chapel.
Stricken faces turn in my direction as I stride down the aisle, and I take in every detail despite my focus zooming in on the groom. There are less than two dozen guests, and that’s including Barrett’s best man, who moves to his side. Typical of Barrett to have chosen an Emerson executive. Ray Forsyth’s presence is yet more confirmation that this is nothing more than a business deal.
Barrett’s eye twitches. “What the fuck are you doing here, Hunter?”
I glance towards a man rising from the front pew. We’ve not met yet, but according to Mace’s research, this is Hugo Corbyn of Corbyn Paper Merchants. He and his sister inherited the paper mill from their late father, and he’s the one giving the bride away - one sister in exchange for what he presumes will be Barrett’s significant investment in the failing mill. Beads of sweat pop on his brow. There stands a desperate man, his features sharp and drawn.
His sister, twenty-four-year-old Maddison Corbyn is a sight to behold. Considering the lack of pomp and circumstance on display at the chapel, the entire budget seems to have been sunk into her crystal white wedding dress.
Maddison is slender in the photos I’ve seen, but upthere on the altar, she’s been transformed into a veritable meringue monster. The only sign of her beautiful figure is her pinched waist, bare shoulders and the curve of her breasts peeking above the tight bodice. Her silken blond hair is currently defying gravity in rigid curls piled up around a glittering tiara. I don’t know whether to laugh at the sheer audacity of her outfit, or be intimidated by her steely glare. For now, I ignore it.
“I object,” I say to Barrett with a shrug.
“Who the hell are you to object?” demands Hugo, doing his best to step in front of Maddison without tripping over her flowing gown.
Reid comes alongside me, and I tip my head to a spot next to the pulpit where he can keep the congregation in his sights.
I shove my hands in my pockets. Damn, I’m almost glad Ash couldn’t make it. I think I’m going to enjoy this. “I’m the person who’s going to stop your sister making a big mistake.”
“Please don’t do this,” comes a whiny voice from the congregation. It’s the mother of the groom.
Alice Emerson threatens to suck all my enjoyment out of her son’s public humiliation. I need to shoot her down fast. “Is that mommy coming to your rescue?” I ask Barrett. I tilt my head to let Alice know I’m addressing her while I continue to outstare her son. “Too little, too late, Alice.”
With perfect timing, Mace triggers the next stage of my plan.
The chapel echoes with the sound of cell phone notifications, and I tut loudly. “Oh, dear. Not everyone put their phones on mute.”
To Hugo, I add, “You might want to take a look at your messages.” It’s actually Maddison who needs to see thevideo we’ve sent, but I’m guessing there are no pockets in amongst those layers upon layers of frills.
Barrett wins the race to check his phone, and as he stares at the screen, he pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters under his breath.
Hugo’s the next to look at his cell. His eyes widen, but only briefly. “This could be from months or even years ago,” he says, ready to dismiss the explicit video of Barrett and a woman who is the polar opposite of Maddison.
The escort on screen is a regular of Barrett’s, and while she might be a beauty in her own right, she doesn’t have the bride’s blond complexion or elfin features. Or Maddison’s dazzling blue eyes that widen when she’s shuffled close enough to look over her brother’s shoulder.
“Play it with the sound on,” she says, taking the words right out of my mouth.
“Maddison, we’re not going to be played by this…” Hugo looks me up and down. “Whoever you are. You’ve had your fun, now kindly leave.”
When Barrett chuckles, the skin on my knuckles itches with an urgent need to make contact with his face. I reassess Maddison. No one could be foolish enough to think her betrothal is a love match, but are her family’s standards that low? Seriously?
Her eyes snap up to catch me staring at her. It isn’t difficult to read her expression. I might be doing her a favor in the long run, but right now, she hates me.
“Unlike your fiancé,” I say, taking the opportunity to remind her that she isn’t Mrs. Emerson yet, “I’m the kind of man who listens. You want sound on the video? Let me oblige.”
I’m almost tempted to snap my fingers as if it’s some magic trick, but as much as I trust Mace andhis wizardry, clicking my fingers at him would ensure I’m met with silence. I lift my head to the ceiling of the old chapel as the first groans echo through the rafters.
“I could fuck you all day,” Barrett’s voice rasps. Mace has the audio turned up so loud that I can hear the slap of skin on skin as Barrett takes his companion from behind.
“Oh, Barrett. I’m going to miss you when you’re married.”
“You think marrying some frigid bitch would stop me fucking you? I don’t think so,” he says, punctuating his words with a series of grunts.
