Chapter 6 - Meeting the groom

Everly POV

I look around the room I am standing on. My childhood room seems so far away now, everything that I went through here. I walk to my vanity table, and I pass my hand softly through the white wood. I look in the mirror, and I don’t recognise the girl I am seeing there. I shake my head, pushing away the tears as I hear a knock on the door.

“Miss Everly”, I hear an Italian accent through the door. Slowly I walk to the door, open it, and I find an old lady pulling a clothes rail. I move away, and she walks into my room and smiles. “This is beautiful”, she says, and I give her a small nod.

I move slowly towards the clothes rail just after closing the door. I pass my hands through the soft fabric of the dresses exposed in front of me. I look at how revelling some of them are, and I frown. I might not be the most fashionable person, but my sense of style is not that bad.

“Come on, darling, let’s get you dressed”, the woman says, and I nod my head. I feel like I have lost my voice since I need to lose my identity and become the wife of some fat, greasy Irish man. Just the thought makes me sick to the stomach.

“This is too much”, I say when I look at myself in the mirror. I look like a hooker. I am wearing a red short dress, it has massive cleavage, and it’s so short I swear you can see my ass cheeks. I shake my head. There’s no fucking way in hell I am wearing this. Especially to try and impress some old grubby man.

“How about this one?” she asks, passing me a blank dress. I grab it and walk to the bathroom to change into it. This is more appropriate. It’s a red tight dress, and it falls just over my knees and hugs all of my curves without showing anything.

“This is the one. Looks like I am going to a funeral, which is very appropriate”, I let out as I sit at the vanity table to start doing my hair and make-up. I pull my long blond hair into a sleek ponytail, and I put on a soft layer of make-up.

I look at myself in the mirror and close my eyes, taking a deep breath, when I hear a soft knock on the door. Christian opens the door and walks in. He crosses his arms resting his shoulder against the door frame.

“They will be here shortly. Are you ready?” he asks, and I nod my head slightly.  I walk towards the black high heels I left on the side and slide them on before walking past Chris towards the living room. I feel like I am about to pass out. I feel my hands sweating with nervousness.

I can hear the cars stopping in front of the house. Slowly I walk to the wall-size windows, and I peak out. I am curious to see my future dear husband. One thing is for sure. He should sleep with one eye open because I might kill him in his sleep and become a black widow. I have no problem with that.

I close my eyes, shaking my head. I think my books have a bad influence on me. This would be a good plot. I make a mental note to write that story. A mafia story. Who knows. It might even be a best-selling story.

I look at the three black SUVs, and all I see are young guys getting out. They are all tall and fit. The three-man walking in send chills down my spine. One of them looks like the boy next door, with messy blond hair and piercing blue eyes. The other one oozes authority. He is massive, full beard and a black suit hugging his every muscle. I swallow dry and look at the other one, and my eyes almost come out of their sockets. I know him. He is the guy from the party. The guy that saved me.

He has long hair tied in the back into a bun. He is wearing a dark blue suit with a crisp white shirt underneath. He is the tallest one, and you can see tattoos peaking through his suit and going up his neck. They all walk at the same pace as if it was rehearsed. This looks like a scene from a movie. They have to be the security team.

The door opens as I pull away from the window and wait next to Christian. I stand behind him, looking at the floor. I can’t believe the man I am about to marry has him as a security guard. That’s not what I need. He is going to blab about my outgoings, and dad is going to find out, and I will be in that loads of trouble.

“Killian”, I hear dad say with a happy voice as he offers the tall guy with a beard his hand to shake. He towers over my dad, and I feel a chill down my spine as I feel a set of eyes on me, but I don’t dare to look up.

“Christian”, Killian says as he shakes my brother’s hand. They start shaking hands, and I stay in my place. I keep looking sideways to try and see the old guy I am about to marry. Curiosity is a horrible thing, and it’s making me extremely anxious not knowing anything.

“Everly”, dad says as he offers me his hand. I take it taking one step forward, and I see the dark blue eyes glued on mine. Theodore, as I heard dad refer to him, looks like a statue. He is not even blinking as his eyes move from head to toe, examining me. I move my gaze and shake Killian’s hand.

“Nice to meet you, lass”, he says in a thick Irish accent. I feel a chill down my spine as Theodore takes one step forward, and Killian introduces us.

“Theo, this is Everly, your fiancé”, he says, and I feel like my world has been turned upside down. My eyes go wide open as he doesn’t even smile. He looks at me as if he hates me, his eyes dark and full of emotions I can’t understand what they are. I am not very good at reading people as I have always lived a very shielded life. Yes, I went to university, but I have a lot of security. My social life was almost inexistent.

“Pleasure”, he says, taking my hand to his lips. My entire body shivers as his skin touches mine. He is soft and warm, sending a jolt of something inexplicable down my body. I pull my hand away as they all decide to leave us alone to talk. I look at my brother, giving him a help me look, but he ignores me and exists the room, leaving us alone.

I dry my sweaty palms on my dress as I walk away from Theodore. I sit on the armchair, and he sits on the couch in front of me. He opens the buttons of his suit jacket, adjusting himself and sitting on the edge.

I don’t know what to say, and he stays quiet as well, his eyes glued on me, sending a heat I can’t explain. He is the most beautiful man I have ever seen, and now I am going to be married to him. Not the worst thing in the world. I just hope he is not cruel. I’ve heard about this kind of arrangement going badly as the husband abuses the wife.

“I won’t hurt you”, he says, offering me his hand. I stand up, take it and sit next to him. He smells so good that it fogs my thoughts instantly. Oh my God, what kind of witchcraft is this?