Chapter 411
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Chapter 411:
The kiss was desperate, hungry, and entirely consuming. He tasted of expensive scotch and cold night air. Jocelyn’s knees went weak. Every protest she had dissolved instantly. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, tangling her fingers in his wind-blown hair and pulling him closer.
When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing heavily. Gaston rested his forehead against hers, his thumb gently stroking her flushed cheek.
“Ten years ago, when I watched you by that red brick wall,” Gaston said, his voice thick with emotion, “I never dared to dream I would be standing here tonight p>
Jocelyn’s eyes filled with tears. She pressed her palm flat against his chest, right over his racing heart.
“Tomorrow,” Jocelyn whispered, her voice trembling with absolute certainty, “I will be yours forever p>
Gaston kissed her forehead and lingered there for a long moment. He knew that if he stayed another five minutes, he would carry her to the bed and ruin the wedding schedule entirely.
He reluctantly stepped back out onto the freezing terrace, promised to be waiting at the end of the aisle, then swung himself over the iron railing and disappeared down into the dark alley below.
Jocelyn stood by the glass, her fingers touching her lips, her heart beating with a wild and beautiful anticipation.
The morning sun flooded the penthouse living room, bouncing off the white marble floors.
Jocelyn sat at the center of the room, surrounded by a whirlwind of makeup artists and hairstylists. She wore a pristine white silk robe. Her hair was swept up into an intricate, elegant chignon, her makeup flawless. She looked ethereal.
𝗦𝘩𝘢𝗋𝗲 y𝘰𝘶𝗋 f𝗮𝘃𝘰𝗿і𝘁𝗲s f𝘳𝗈𝗆
In the foyer, Bella and three other bridesmaids were giggling and setting up a barricade for the traditional door games.
At exactly ten o’clock, the heavy elevator doors chimed open.
Gaston stepped into the private hallway, flanked by his groomsmen. He wore a custom-tailored midnight-black tuxedo that fit his massive frame with lethal perfection. His hair was slicked back, and his dark eyes were laser-focused on the front door.
Bella stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, blocking his path.
“Not so fast, Mr. Collins,” Bella smirked, holding up a clipboard. “You have to prove you know the bride p>
She fired off a series of incredibly obscure questions. What was Jocelyn’s favorite childhood book? What specific brand of tea did she drink when she was stressed? What was the one cafeteria meal at St. Jude’s that made her gag?
Gaston didn’t even blink. He answered every question instantly, his voice calm and almost bored, proving he had memorized every microscopic detail of Jocelyn’s existence.
The bridesmaids gasped, thoroughly impressed.
Bella narrowed her eyes, refusing to concede. “Fine. Final test. Show us your sincerity, Gaston. How much is getting through this door worth to you p>
Gaston let out a short, amused breath.
He reached inside his tuxedo jacket and produced a leather checkbook and a Montblanc pen. He uncapped the pen, scrawled a figure that consumed the entire line, signed his name, and tore the check free.
He handed it to Bella.
Bella stared at the seven-figure number. Her jaw physically dropped.