Page 1 of Cuffing His Bride

Chapter One

Amelia

I’d heard of killer brides before this moment, I’d just never pictured myself as one.

I never thought I’d be a killeranything. But as I stand by the altar dressed in a second-hand wedding dress I’d bought on eBay for a hundred and fifty dollars, with my hands firmly grasped in my future husband’s hands, I contemplate murder.Hismurder.

I can see it now. I’d trip him down the short stairs to the altar, where he’d simply fall and break his neck and meet his ultimate demise—no, that would never work. There are only like three steps and the worst that might happen would be a fracture and then I’d get arrested for attempted murder, and with nothing to show for my hard work on top of that.

I suppose I could grab the Bible from the priest and whack Charles over the head with it … Wait. That might actually work. If I can just hit him hard enough—

“—So, you see …” A shrill voice cuts through my thoughts, the same voice that put me on the path of murder. “I love you, Charles. Our kids need their father,” the woman speaks, before sniffing into a tissue.

My eyes don’t stray from my groom as I think of all the ways he could come to a timely end. When I woke up this morning, I was ready to just get married and get this all over with. Fine, I’m not in love with him, but it’s not like I have that luxury.

A few weeks ago, I received a letter from my late grandfather’s lawyer. It stated that I was eligible for a trust fund, but by eligible, he meant there was more than one person who had the opportunity to access the funds. And that wasn’t all. My grandfather loved pitting people against each other just to see who came out on top, and then he’d reward them handsomely for screwing over other people. No one ever died trying to impress him during these ridiculous games, so we never thought much of it.

It seems he’s still carrying on with these games, even though he’s six feet under. The condition for the trust fund comes down to getting married, but that’s not all. I have to beat my cousin to the altar in order to get the money; whoever gets there first gets it all. Because of that, I didn’t really have time to woo someone, or be wooed, I just had topicksomeone and deal with the consequences later. It’s not like any of the games he manipulated us into as kids, but hey, he might actually get to see a man get murdered for one of his stupid ruses.

Obviously, this is where my lying asshole groom comes in. This was supposed to be little more than convenient; we both knew that going in. Charles needed a wife to get his family off his back whereas I needed a husband to secure the funds. It was a win-win for both of us. It was foolproof.

What are the chances that out of all the weddings I’ve attended in my lifetime, the one that’d get crashed would be mine?

The priest looks uncomfortable as he looks at the woman standing in her pew, as does everyone sitting in the congregation. “Miss, are you sure you want to do this?”

“Of course. I’m serious about Charles. I love him so much and we have kids that need their father!” Her tears are about as real as the fake diamond necklace I got to match this gown.

I guess this is the part where I slap my groom for being a lying bastard and cry my way out of the church. People would follow me out and ask if I was okay. Then they’d tell me that it is all for the best, and that they’d never liked Charles in the first place. But this isn’t about Charles, this is about that trust fund.

I can’t lie and say that I don’t have some ideas for using the money, but really, I don’t personally need it at all. I need it for my mom. That’s why I’m so willing to throw out the possibility of love and marry a total jackass.

A few years back, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. It took a while to go into remission, so she was forced to sell her flower shop to cover her medical expenses. Thankfully, she’s since made a full recovery, but she still lost her precious business in the process. She lost something that brought her joy, something she’d worked so many years to build. It’s been my dream since then to get it back for her. I can’t let an opportunity like this slip through my fingers. It’s what I want for her, and myself as well. That place was so important to both of us.

I was so close I could almost smell the greenery again.

“Charles, I love you,” the woman says once more. “Please don’t marry her.”

Suddenly, Charles pulls his hands from mine. I watch in horror as he takes a step back and turns to face the congregation.

Are you fucking kidding me? He’s actually buying this??

“Charles?” I murmur. I don’t dare look at the crowd that is filled with family and close friends. I can’t bear seeing what they think. They all think he’s a douche to begin with … There’s no coming back from getting jilted by a guy like this, is there? There is so much more at stake now, not just my mom’s shop, but my pride as well.

“I’m sorry, Amelia,” he says, avoiding my eyes.

“You can’t do this,” I hiss, loud enough for only him—and the priest—to hear. “Not now.”

“We both know this isn’t about love.”

“Charles, we had an agreement!” I whisper angrily.

“Well, I’m breaking it.”

His eyes finally meet mine. I’m seething. I knew he was a selfish prick, but this is a new low, even for him. I can deal with my anger, but the way he’s trying to cast me aside … Far more difficult to handle. Maybe I have more in common with the woman speaking up than I thought.

“Please,” I whisper, swallowing whatever little pride I have left. “Please, don’t do this.”

“Amelia, we’re not a good fit. I’d just grow bored of a woman like you anyway.”

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