Page 24 of Bound to Him
8
ALTON
In order tostop myself from messing with my pink pastel tie, which Antoine had assured me would go well with Noah’s ensemble, whatever the hell that meant, I stuffed my hands in the pockets of my gray suit pants.
The only problem with the stunning outdoor wedding venue Russ had chosen on short notice was the fact that there was no place for me to hide before the ceremony, so I stood at the front waiting for my groom to arrive as people were escorted into the meadow to take their seats. The weather was cooperating. For November it was balmy at sixty-five degrees. White fluffy clouds skimmed along overhead in a bright blue sky. Musicians on a two-tiered stage off to the side of the seating played soft music at a tasteful volume—none of that wedding crap, only light classical that made everyone whisper rather than talk loudly. I was happy about the live music, since it was a nice flex in a crowd like this, but also because I didn’t really want to know what the fuck my head accountant and her husband were thinking about me getting married on a dime. She was in a row near the front, wearing a nice yellow dress with long sleeves.
If Noah had been a woman, I’m certain there would’ve been speculations about a baby on the way.
And I was nervous, too.
I hadn’t expected that.
I broke and tugged at my tie as I scanned my eyes upward and took in the steel flourishes connected to poles at intervals along the cement pad that sectioned off the space for guests. Someone had climbed up there and adorned the twisted metal art with flowy cloth that matched my pink tie. A breeze made it sway and sparkle. I supposed the metalwork was there to be a support for a tent roof if it became necessary due to rain, but it was also interesting and decorative.
I let out a long breath.
Nerves had my hands shaking, so I stuffed them back in my pockets. I hadn’t truly expected to give a shit that I was getting married, but here it was. I’d never really planned to get hitched, and the guilt that my mama didn’t have her front-row spot had also reared its head overnight. I couldn’t let anyone see me as anything less than put together, so I smiled at people as they arrived.
I played the part of the gracious host about to get everything he’d ever wanted.
Russ’s staff was dressed up and doing the job of showing guests to their seats—the padded silver chairs he’d been so enraged about. Nothing was quite right without my family, although absolutely everything was elegant. I didn’t miss the approving looks at the large vases of fall flowers lining the edge of the cement pad. They’d probably cost more than my Jag. Russ had blown about three hundred grand of my money, and the reception would be talked about for months, even if this was simple yet sophisticated. The open bar was top-label only, and we’d paid bartenders from all over New Gothenburg to come in and help.
Everything was on point.
Except me.
But I had to be rock steady, especially to keep Noah in line. Antoine strolled up and gave me a tiny scowl. The sunshine glittered in his blond hair and the diamond pin that kept his black tie smooth against his black shirt. Coupled with his black suit, he seemed to be dressed for a funeral rather than a celebration.
“It’s all in order, sir.”
“I didn’t expect anything less.”
My semicompliment earned me a small smile from him. “How long do you think you can keep this under wraps from your family?”
I scratched the back of my neck and stared out at the nearby pine trees. “How do you fuckin’ do that? How do you always know what I’m thinking?”
He wrinkled his nose as if he could sniff out my bullshit. “You do occasionally have better qualities. You love your family. This is typically a familial occasion. Deduction.”
“Forever.”
Antoine shook his head like he was disappointed in me, but that wasn’t new.
“Mama doesn’t keep up with the outside world much. Other than the few odds and ends I buy for the farm, I think she half expects the money I tell her I have is a joke. It doesn’t mean anything to them. I doubt my wedding will rate top-level coverage. I’m not Elon Musk.”
Antoine squinted and raised his hand over his eyes as the sun came out from behind a cloud and dazzled at us. “You are merging two large enterprises today. If Noah Divine was the Divine heiress, the press would be all over it.”
“But he’s not.” I grinned. “And all that has worked in our favor so far. No one expected me to do what I did, including Edison Divine.”
“You’re playing with fire, sir.” Antoine wandered off to take care of something else, and I watched the seats fill with business associates and people who should be important to Noah—I’d allowed the Divines to add a few folks to the guest list. Nearby crows called to one another in the pine trees, and off in the distance, behind the podium that constituted the altar area, Lake Ontario rolled and glittered. We’d had an unexpectedly nice day, and if the circumstances had been different, I’d take that as a sign Noah and I were going to have a long and happy marriage.
But they weren’t.
And he’d be gone in six months.
This was all a sham, but I’d be damned if I was going to do it half-assed.
Smiling to myself, I stared down at the tips of my shiny black cowboy boots. This morning I hadn’t bothered to wake Noah before I left to help Antoine get the final touches on the day sorted out—all those things that involved my account numbers. I still hadn’t let go of the need to sign off on money personally, much to his eternal irritation, at least not the sums a shindig like this would cost. Ten grand here and there for the house was one thing, but I had to be personally involved in anything larger.
