Chapter 4

Sarah

Today is my wedding day.

It's supposed to be the day that should be the happiest day of my life. My wedding day is the day I've been dreaming about since I was a little girl.

Yes, the flowers are perfect, the cake is divine, and my dress fits like a glove. Everything I dreamed of has become true. But the only problem is that I am getting the wrong groom.

Thanks to my loving father.

"Stop frowning so much honey, you will crease your makeup," my aunt Linda comments as she fusses over my veil.

I roll my eyes. "Well, maybe a few creases will make it more authentic. You know, the 'teary-eyed bride' look."

Aunt Linda chuckles, realizing the irony of the situation. "You always did have a way with words, dear. Maybe you can use that humor to get through today."

I manage a small smile. "Maybe I should start practicing my stand-up routine now. It might be the only way to survive this."

"I don't know why you got your panties in a twist about this. I saw the young man you are betrothed to. And I must say, he is quite easy on the eyes," Linda cooes. "He looks like the young Clint."

"Who is Clint?" I ask, my irritation grows.

"Eastwood? You young people don't know anything these days," she shakes her head in disappointment.

I suddenly perk up. "Oh em gee, Aunt Linda! I have a great idea!"

She looks at me suspiciously. "What is it?"

"YOU should marry Vincent! You are divorced and barely forty. You and Mr. Young Eastwood will be perfect for each other," I chirp.

Aunt Linda's eyes widen in shock, and then she bursts into laughter. "Well, honey, that's a tempting offer, but I think I'll pass. Besides, I've had my fair share of marriages and divorces. It's your turn to take the plunge."

I pout, "But Aunt Linda, I barely know this guy! And I don't want my fairy tale to start with someone who looks like Clint Eastwood. No offense to the man, but I had different leading man aspirations."

She raises an eyebrow, "Different leading man aspirations? Do tell, my dear."

"I don't know, maybe someone more like... Chris Hemsworth? You know, the whole Thor vibe," I say. At this point, I will take anyone other than Mr. American Psycho.

Aunt Linda laughs heartily, "Ah, aiming for the Norse god type, are we? Well, dear, unfortunately, it's too late to turn back now."

I want to die.

~-~

The music begins to play, filling the air with a soft, melodic tune. My heart beats faster as I take a deep breath as my father walks me down the aisle.

I see Vincent waiting for me at the altar. Dammit, I was kind of hoping he would have cold feet!

Vincent looks devilishly handsome in his all-black suit, his dark hair perfectly coiffed, and his piercing blue eyes sparkling with anticipation. He stands tall and confident, exuding a magnetic charm that draws everyone's gaze. 

But as my eyes meet his, a shiver runs down my spine. There's an intensity in his gaze, a hint of something dangerous lurking beneath the surface.

My father takes my hand and places it on top of his. In this moment, I feel trapped, like a bird with clipped wings. My dream wedding has turned into a nightmare, and there's no escape from this twisted reality.

Vincent's eyes are cold as he stares into mine. He is not even smirking, let alone smiling at his new bride. In fact, he looks like he hates me. Why did he even agree to this whole thing?

The officiant begins the ceremony, and I can hardly focus on the words being spoken. My mind is a whirlwind of confusion, regret, and an unsettling realization that this nightmare is now my reality.

As the vows are exchanged, I find myself mechanically repeating the words, my gaze fixed on Vincent. He says his vows with an icy tone, and the weight of the situation presses down on me like a lead blanket.

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife," declares the officiant, and a knot tightens in my stomach.

Vincent doesn't even spare me a glance as he goes in for the obligatory kiss. It's as if he's going through the motions with a complete lack of emotion. This kiss is completely different than the way he kissed me at the bridal store.

Boy...he is definitely a psycho.

The applause from the guests echoes in my ears, but the sound is hollow, drowned out by the realization that I am now bound to a man who seems to despise me.

As we walk back down the aisle together, Vincent's grip on my hand is firm and possessive. I can't help but glance at Natalie, who is sitting among the other guests. She smiles at me as our eyes meet, then gives me an awkward thumbs up.

The reception is a blur. The forced smiles, the polite conversations, the toasts that feel like a mockery of my life. I catch glimpses of Vincent talking with my father, their expressions cold.

This whole thing feels so surreal.

During our first dance, Vincent wordlessly extends his hand towards me. Reluctantly, I place my hand in his, feeling the roughness of his palm against mine.

Vincent's touch is cold, his grip tight as he pulls me closer to him. "Are you going to flinch every time I touch you, little one?"

"S...sorry, your hands are cold," I whisper. I should've worn high heels because I barely came up to his chest as we danced. The way he towers over me makes me feel small and insignificant, and I feel like a doll being dragged around by its owner.

Vincent's lips curl into a small smile, his eyes narrowing. "Get used to it, sweetheart. You're mine now, and I expect you to act accordingly."

His words send a chill down my spine, and I force a smile, trying to play along. The dance feels like an eternity, and as the song finally ends, Vincent releases me with a curt nod.

I quickly seize the opportunity and walk away from him as quickly as I could. I find Natalie among the sea of guests, so I grab her hand and drag her near the cake.

"He is evil, Natalie. I can feel it," I hiss under my breath, so no one can hear me.

Natalie shakes her head. "You are overreacting."

I scoff, "Overreacting? He looks like he's plotting my demise."

Natalie rolls her eyes and pats my hand. "Come on, it's just wedding jitters. Vincent may be a bit intimidating, but I'm sure he'll warm up to you."

I shoot her a disbelieving look. "Warm up? Natalie, the man practically exudes ice. And did you see the way he kissed me at the altar? It was like being kissed by a statue. I'm telling you, there's something seriously wrong with him."

"But the way he kissed you that day at the bridal store? That looked hot," Natalie reminds me.

She isn't wrong. That kiss was steaming hot. I couldn't shake the memory from my mind all day that day. It was like a catchy tune stuck on repeat. And when night came, my dreams were filled with steamy scenes starring us. I woke up feeling oddly satisfied and extremely embarrassed, and also very angry at myself for thinking of him that way.

The sound of Natalie's voice brings me back from my thoughts. I shake my head, trying to push away the confusing mix of desire and fear that lingers within me. "That doesn't matter now. There's something off about him, Nat. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I feel it in my gut that he hates me."

Natalie sighs, her eyes filled with concern. "Look, I understand that you're scared and unsure, but it's too late to back out now."

I take a deep breath. She's right. There's no turning back now. I made my bed, and now I have to lie in it, no matter how uncomfortable it may be.

At one point, I excuse myself from the crowded dance floor and make my way to the balcony for some fresh air.

I lean against the railing, wanting to breathe in some fresh air. My mind is racing, trying to make sense of everything that has happened. Who is this man that I married? And why do I feel like I'm swimming in shark-infested waters?

The sound of footsteps behind me makes me turn around, and there stands Vincent, his face void of any emotion. "It's time to go," he says.

"Go where?" I ask lamely.

Vincent steps closer. "To our hotel. Where we will spend our first night as the married couple."

Sarah Whitmore, you are toast.