Page 26 of Bared Betrayal
The more plans that are made, the more I feel as if this wedding isn’t mine at all. It’s Sebastian’s and the media’s, put together by Jillian, the perfect planner, and Elenor. Sometimes I wonder if Sebastian really wants to marry me or if he’s looking to find ways to stay in the headlines, something to boost his approval and popularity in perfect timing for his new movie.
“This is all so much,” I say to Sebastian as I continue to take it all in. “This entire party has your grandmother written all over it. She even went ahead and had red flower centerpieces made despite me wanting pink.”
“Calm down,” he hushes. “Everything looks great. You should thank her.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Kallie, I told you. She didn’t get to do it for my mom, and this is her way of making up for it. So just let her do whatever the hell she wants.” He wraps his arm around my waist, smiling at me like we’re the happiest goddamn couple on the planet.
I smile back, playing my part and pretending to pick at imaginary lint off his suit jacket. “This is our life. Not hers. It’s our wedding—”
“You’re right,” he cuts me off. “It isourwedding and about what we both want. Not just you, Kallie. I know you want this wedding to be just about us, but unfortunately, that’s not how it is. As much as it sucks for you to hear it, it’s also about my career. I’m a public figure now, and that means the world gets to have a glimpse into my life. That means you, too. Besides, I want a huge wedding. I love this. It’s amazing. I want everyone to know I’m marrying the love of my life. I want to flaunt you in front of the entire world.”
His eyes are bright, like a child’s, looking at everything under the tree on Christmas morning. A tinge of wildness in his expression makes me nervous, though, but I try to sweep it away. I can’t add suspicion to the whirlpool of feelings and emotions I’ve been dealing with over the last couple of weeks.
Uncertainty. Confusion. Fear. Anxiety. Excitement.
Guilt.
It’s too much, and I have to close the lid and stop letting it all in, or I’ll explode. I’ll break. Again.
I need to take a moment to regroup. My mind is pinging like a pinball machine. “Excuse me. I need some air.”
“Kal—” But I’m out of reach before he manages to pull me back. My nude heels click across the deck, and I grab a glass of champagne off one of the many trays circulating the party. It’s the most expensive champagne, I’m sure. Not that I’d be able to taste the difference, because tonight, everything tastes bitter.
I drain the glass, not caring what the guests might think. They’re not my guests. I didn’t invite them. I don’t even know them. So why should I care what they think?
Breathe, Kallie.
Just breathe.
I close my eyes, envisioning the air flowing in and out of my lungs, trying to quell the anxiety clawing at my chest all night. It’s tight. Smothering. Sucking the life from my fucking soul. This is not the night for breathing exercises and meditation. This is the night for drowning in fucking champagne.
I glance around. The tables are dressed with white linens. White tapered candles in vintage candlesticks line the center of the table, with tall glass Eiffel tower vases displaying floral arrangements of red, white, and a touch of fern. Elenor sure went all out, transforming her roofed deck into a romantic fairytale wonderland…just like she wanted. Not me. Her. It’s all her.
Elenor is flitting around like the perfect hostess, her blood-red lips smiling and her heavily ringed fingers waving. It’s funny because she looks more like the bride with her red outfit matching the decor, while my pale-blush dress does nothing but let me fade into the background. Good. I prefer it that way.
A waiter with another tray of drinks passes by, and I don’t think twice about grabbing myself another one. I need liquid courage to get through this night.
Sebastian is inside talking to a man I don’t recognize—which isn’t surprising since I know no one here. But it’s the look on Sebastian’s face that has me intrigued, thinking that whatever conversation is taking place between them, my fiancé is not having a good time, and I should probably go save him. Should I, though?
Get a grip, Kallie.
Squaring my shoulders and swallowing the urge to run the fuck away from this party, I saunter through the groups of guests, making my way to Sebastian. The music is just the right volume for me to catch the tail side of their conversation.
“I didn’t invite you.”
“Well, someone did.”
Sebastian’s expression is stern, his jaw clenched. “This is me uninviting—”
“There you are,” I say, leaping to his side, smiling and hoping a friendly gesture will snuff out the apparent hostility. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“Kallie,” Sebastian says, placing a hand around my waist. “You’re just in time. I’d like you to meet Gabriel King. My father.”
His father?
I look at the man standing in front of us. Tall. Handsome. Dark with salt and pepper on the sides. His broad shoulders fill out his black suit perfectly, his presence taking up all the space around him. And then there are his eyes. Cobalt blue, piercing sapphire eyes that send a jolt of familiarity down to my stomach, and I’m taken aback by the way my body reacts to him. My stomach clenched, spine tingling, the ache between my thighs.
