Page 15 of Kingpin's Baby
“Ready?” Harvey asks, eying me as though concerned I might run, and what his boss would do to him if I did.
This is insane. But I’m going to marry Mr Booth, and try to squeeze every bit of happiness I can from our fake marriage.
I nod to Harvey and the heavy old wooden double doors swing open before me.
I gasp. The church is in shadow, lit with hundreds of white candles, draped with garlands of flowers, and the path to the altar is strewn with rose petals.
It’s magical.
Mr Booth stands alone, the conductor of all of this, in his customary perfectly fitted black suit and dark tie. He’s staring right at the door, atme, his hands in his pockets and his expression arrogant. Uncaring.
His jaw scruffier than I’ve ever seen it first thing in the morning, and I see a flash of relief in his pinewood eyes when he sees me. Organ music swells, and I take the first step towards Mr Booth without thinking, on pure instinct.
My dress sweeps on the petals as I walk slowly, as though compelled by his will and the surroundings.
“Princess,” he breathes, taking my hand and drawing me to stand at the front of the church, sweeping his gaze over me, from head to toe.
Things happen like I’m in a dream. Harvey takes my bouquet, Jasper and I turn together towards the altar, the priest says words. There are answers about free will and our names. Jasper’s upper arm brushes my shoulder, solid and reassuring. But I can’t stop sneaking glances at my future husband, and each time, he senses my eyes on him, and our gazes meet.
It’s as though there’s a bubble around and connecting us.
I say my vows in a daze.
“To have and to hold.” His voice rumbles through me. “...Love and cherish…”
I could cry with how much I want all this to be real.
Jasper’s expression is serious as he repeats the words, brows low, no hint of a smile.
He’s hating this, isn’t he?
I should have asked for a loan, and not told him the whole story. That would hurt less, surely? Or perhaps I ought to have insisted we wait and planned a bigger wedding. People, fuss. If it weren’t just the two of us and a priest and his men, we could excuse Jasper’s sombre mood on something other than that he’s marrying me because he felt bad for his little cleaner.
Ugh. I’m an idiot. Because despite all that, this is the most special moment of my life.
“And the exchange of rings,” the priest says.
“Exchange?” I blurt out before I can censor myself.
I know lots of men don’t wear wedding rings. I never imagined that Mr Booth would, especially not since this is all for show.
“Yes, princess. I belong to you as much as you belong to me,” Jasper replies with casual patience, as though that’s the sort of thing he repeats to me three times a day.
He belongs tome? This wild panther of a man is mine? It sends the best shiver down my spine before I remind myself that he’ssogood at faking.
Mr Booth doesn’t need to do so much as raise his hand an inch, and Harvey is at his elbow. Plucking a ring from the pillow, my nearly-husband takes my hands in his, ignoring the priest altogether.
It’s a plain gold band. Classic, simple. I have a moment’s apprehension that it won’t fit, after all we didn’t discuss this. The gold is cool as he slips it over the tip of my finger.
“I give you this ring,” he murmurs as he slides the glinting band over my knuckle and into place, seated on my finger. “As a sign of my love.”
The words flow through me, warm and caressing. As a sign ofhis love. I know this is just a favour, a marriage of convenience. But my body responds as though it’s true—a lump in my throat and happy tears threatening behind my eyes—because he sounds like he means it.
The ring fits, perfectly snug.
I look up into his face and find my boss smiling down at me and what was a tender moment of pretend becomes sweeter and more bitter simultaneously. Because he is the best actor in London. No one could possibly see his expression and not believe he was in love.
Except me.
