Page 48 of Bared Betrayal
“I wasn’t planning on having bridesmaids,” I say as I wiggle my arm out of her grip. Her talons leave little stinging red lines on my arm. I just hope they fade quickly, or better yet, I fade away.
Elenor snickers. “Don’t be ridiculous. What bride doesn’t have bridesmaids?”
The bride who doesn’t have friends because the idea of being social is the equivalent of a root canal.
“The ladies I picked are perfectly suited for the event,” she says with a pursed and very patronizing smile.
Suited for the event, a phrase that reminds me that this wedding and everything leading up to it has nothing to do with me or Sebastian. It’s about his new career and the fame and her chance to… I have no idea what. I really don’t know what Elenor’s goal is with all of this, but I have been biting my tongue for days, and I don’t want to anymore. The plan was to just let her run with it, make Sebastian happy by pleasing his grandmother, but the way she makes me feel small and insignificant with so little effort, it’s like I’m just a footnote in her grandson’s life. It infuriates me in a way that has me grinding my teeth and clenching my fists. I tell myself that if she knew my past, if she understood my trauma, then she wouldn’t be doing this. But the truth is, if she knew about my trauma, she would never let me marry Sebastian in the first place. She would see me for the broken woman I am, and not the artist I pretend to be.
I’m about to say something, to tell her off when some poor waiter drops a tray of champagne glasses, causing a loud crashing sound to echo through the room. Elenor mutters something under her breath as she runs off to behead the poor man. Poor waiter, but lucky me for getting a little reprieve from Elenor’s suffocating presence.
I snag a glass of champagne from a waiter’s tray and down half of it before a pair of warm arms circle me from behind, pulling me into a warm chest.Gabriel.
“Please don’t,” I beg softly as his warm breath grazes across the sensitive skin of my exposed neck. I want to turn in Gabriel’s arms, melt in his embrace, tell him how I was still sore in the most delicious of places because of him.
“Didn’t you miss me, sweetheart?”
It’s like someone threw a bucket of ice-cold water over me when I hear Sebastian’s voice.
He places a sweet kiss just below my ear. “I missed you.”
“Sebastian.” I spin in his arms, giving him a too-bright smile, trying to hide the disappointment sitting in my stomach like hot lead. “I missed you, too.” How have I never noticed that he and his father smell the same? Do they wear the same cologne? Or is it a genetic scent that seeps from their pores whenever I’m around?
The smile falls from his lips, and his lips curl in the same look of disgust his grandmother had when she saw me.
“Oh, fuck. Who invited him?” Sebastian glares over my shoulder, and I turn to see who he is talking about.
Gabriel.
The second our eyes meet, I am reminded of what it was like when he had me on my knees, suffocating on his cock. The peace he brought with pain while it was just me, him, and his demands. He made everything else go away. The voices, the overwhelming guilt, quieting the oppressive need to never let anyone know who I really am. He makes it all melt away. He gave me a taste of freedom I had long ago given up hoping for.
“I can’t believe he has the nerve to show up here,” Sebastian says under his breath, pulling me from my memories.
“I don’t know why he’s here, but there is no rule saying you have to speak to everyone,” I point out.
“You’re right.” He squeezes my hip again, leaning down and giving me a gentle kiss. “Tonight is about us, so let’s drink champagne and laugh the night away with our friends.” He smiles, and I don’t bother pointing out that none of the guests are my friends. I don’t even know the names of half of them.
“Oh, God, he’s coming this way,” Sebastian says, swallowing the rest of his champagne, and for a second I’m convinced I’m about to vomit.
“Sebastian,” Gabriel greets, his voice as smooth as silk. His eyes capture mine. “Kallie. You look absolutely stunning tonight.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s toying with me. “Thank you, s…Mr. King.”
There’s a slight tug at the corner of his lips, and I’m ready to melt into the goddamn tiles.
Sebastian takes a step toward his father. “What are you doing here?”
“Joining the celebrations, of course.”
“You weren’t invited.”
“The envelope I found on my desk this morning proves otherwise.”
“I think it’s best you leave,” Sebastian seethes.
“I’m not here to cause waves, son.”
“I am not your son.”
