Page 83 of His Lair
“Yeah. Just knocked out, it seems. She’s going to wake up and not know anything happened,” he tells me.
“Great, I suppose I’ll break the news to her that she’s not getting married,” I groan. “Fuck. There’s a wedding about to start downstairs in two hours. I need to cancel it.”
“Or…wecould use it,” Lailani offers.
“What?”
“We could use the venue. I mean, you’ve already paid for all the catering and what not,” she says.
“Use it how?” I ask, because I’m not sure where her head is at and if she’s actually suggesting we get married today or not.
“We could get married. Today. I mean, you did ask me, remember?”
“I did.” I turn around to look at her. “Are you sure?”
AmIsure? Do I want this to be my life? Do I want to marry someone who can go from killing three men, to dancing and eating cake a few hours later?
The answer comes to me quick. Yes. I want this. I want her. I’ve never wanted anything more.
“I’m sure. I mean, my dad might actually try to kill you. But I’m sure,” she says.
“I’ll take my chances. Let’s do it. Let’s get married.”
“Okay, we’re getting married. Shoot! I need a dress. And, Louie, get Charlotte and Antonia here. We need Jazzy. I cannot get married without her. Also, E, I need the number for your jeweler. I need a couple of rings.” Lailani starts rattling off a to-do list.
“You have a jeweler?” I look at Emmanuel.
“You don’t?” he fires back.
“I’m going to go break the news to my father and get dressed. I will see you at the end of the aisle,” Lailani tells me, her tone oddly cheery.
“Okay. I love you,” I tell her.
“I love you. Sorry about the mess.” She winces.
“Thank you. For finding my mom,” I say, because I should have told her that already.
“Anytime. It was easy.” Lailani smiles and walks out of the room.
“Are you sure that’s who you want to marry?” Louie asks me.
“What the fuck do you mean by that?” Emmanuel grunts. “He’d be fucking lucky to marry that woman.”
“Okay, cool your jets,” I tell E before looking at Louie. “What the fuck do you mean by that?”
“She’s a little… unhinged.”
“She is a fucking angel.” I continue to glare at him. “And he’s right.” I point to Emmanuel. “I’d be lucky to fucking marry her.”
“Marry who?” My mother’s voice has me spinning around.
“Lailani. I’m getting married today, Mom,” I say. “How you feeling?”
“Like I’ve got the world’s biggest hangover? Why do I feel like this?” she asks.
“You were drugged,” I tell her. “By your fiancé. Well, ex-fiancé.”
“What?”
