Chapter 258
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Chapter 258:
He caught his reflection in the dark window. He looked disheveled.
“Drive faster,” he told the security driver.
The organ music swelled, filling the vaulted ceiling of St. Patrick’s Cathedral with something majestic and holy — and completely at odds with the groom standing at the altar.
Kieran stood rigid. A neat white butterfly bandage had been expertly placed over his right eyebrow, partially hidden by his hair. The surrounding skin was slightly swollen, but the bleeding had stopped. He was still pale, swaying almost imperceptibly, his eyes a touch unfocused.
The heavy wooden doors opened.
Aspen walked down the aisle. Her dress was a cloud of lace and tulle that had cost more than most people earned in a decade. She looked perfect. Ethereal. But her eyes were darting — scanning the pews, checking the cameras.
She reached the altar.
“My god, your face,” she whispered, her voice low enough that the microphones didn’t catch it. She reached out, her fingers hovering over the bandage. It looked like concern. Her eyes were cold.
“It doesn’t matter. Let’s do this,” Kieran said, gripping her hand. His palm was clammy. He squeezed too hard.
The priest cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved p>
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In the back row, hidden in the shadow of a stone pillar, sat two uninvited guests.
Jocelyn wore the midnight blue dress. The diamond necklace Gaston had given her caught the dim light, flashing like a warning signal.
Gaston sat beside her, his tuxedo impeccable. He held her hand, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles across her knuckles.
“Ready?” he whispered.
“Wait for the reception,” Jocelyn whispered back, her eyes fixed on Kieran’s bandaged head. “Let them sign the papers first p>
“Why p>
“So the annulment is more painful.” She smiled — not a happy smile, but the smile of an executioner sharpening a blade. “If we stop it now, they simply break up. If they marry, it becomes a legal war p>
The vows continued. Kieran’s voice was hoarse and strained.
“I, Kieran, take thee, Aspen p>
“I, Aspen, take thee, Kieran p>
“I do,” Kieran said.
“I do,” Aspen said.
They kissed. It was awkward. Kieran winced as their heads drew close, the pain in his skull flaring sharply.
The guests applauded with polite restraint. Murmurs rippled through the crowd — about the bandage, the SUV, the bad omens.
The priest gave his final blessing. “I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Douglas p>
It was done.
The reception was held in the Grand Ballroom of the Plaza Hotel — a sea of champagne, white orchids, and forced laughter. Enormous LED screens flanked the stage on either side, set up for the Love Story Montage.
The Master of Ceremonies, a man with a voice like melted butter, stepped up to the microphone.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, please direct your attention to the screens for a look at the fairy tale romance of Kieran and Aspen p>
The lights dimmed. The room fell hushed.
Jocelyn gave a small nod to Gaston.