CHAPTER 3

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring up at the ceiling. Two weeks of wedding preparations, legal arrangements, and awkward silences had just blitzed by. The house was abuzz. Caila, Dad and I had all practically managed to ignore the absurdity of this whole situation.

Dad had thrown himself into the planning of it all, proudly announcing each and every detail to anyone who would listen. "A grand affair," he kept calling it. "The perfect union for Soleil Vineyards' salvation."

Caila, on the other hand, had been quiet. Too quiet.

One night, I found my sister on the floor of her room, knees against her chest, head bent. "What's wrong?" I whispered, even though I knew the answer.

Caila looked up; her eyes were red from crying. "I thought...I thought it was love, Aria, that a marriage was supposed to be about. Not this. I don't want this.”

I knelt beside her, pulling her into a hug. "I know," I whispered. "I'm so sorry, Caila. If I could fix this-"

"We're stuck," Caila interrupted, her voice shaking. "Dad won't listen, and Jace…" She shook her head. "Why does he want both of us? He won't even say."

I sighed, anger flaring in my chest. "He's a control freak. That's the only explanation I can think of.”

Caila leaned into me, her voice barely audible. "I'm scared, Aria. I really don't want this."

"Me too," I said. "But we'll get through this. Together."

From that night on, we slept in each other's rooms, finding comfort in the uncertainty we both shared.

---

The day of the wedding arrived far too soon. I stood in the dressing room, a mass of stylists fluttering around Caila, pinning her veil in place and adjusting her dress and makeup. Caila sat rigid in the chair, her hands shaking in her lap.

"You look beautiful," I said, forcing a smile as I approached her.

Caila turned to me, her eyes glassy. "I feel like I'm about to faint. Or throw up."

I crouched beside her, taking her hands. "Hey, it's okay," I said softly. "Deep breaths, remember?"

Caila tried to inhale deeply but ended up letting out a shaky exhale instead. "I wish Mom were here," she whispered.

My chest tightened. "Me too," I whispered. "She'd know exactly what to say. In fact, she wouldn't even agree to this. She'd have shut Dad down so fast."

The door opened, and Dad walked in, beaming. "Caila, you're stunning," he said, pride dripping from his tone. "Just like your mother on our wedding day.”

Caila didn't say anything, and I glared at him. "Can't you see she's nervous? Fucking read the room, Dad" I snapped.

Dad rolled his eyes. "It's natural to be nervous. But this is a great day for our family. Caila, you're making history."

Caila looked at him with tears gathering in her eyes. "This isn't what I wanted, Dad."

He let out a deep sigh, his face unyielding. "It's not about what we want, Caila. It's about what we need. Soleil Vineyards depends on this."

I abruptly stood up, positioning myself between him and Caila. "Stop. She doesn't need your speeches right now."

Just before Dad was able to comment, a coordinator poked her head in. "It's time."

Caila stood, her legs shaking. I reached out quickly and grasped her arm to steady her. "I've got you," I said. Though I didn't. I really didn't.

Dad held out his arm for Caila and his face softened, just a little. "You'll do great," he said softly.

Caila hesitated, then took his arm, her fingers trembling. She looked back at me, her eyes pleading. "Stay close, okay?"

"I will," I said, my voice firm.

The procession music began, and the large archway doors slowly opened, revealing to view the sea of guests seated under the sprawling floral arrangements. Caila gave me one last, desperate look before stepping forward with Dad.

I watched them-my heart aching at the thought of my sister walking towards a future that neither of us had chosen-and then turned and took the other entrance.

---

The minister spoke from the altar, his voice carrying across the hall as he droned on and on about marriage's sanctity, heavenly bonds, and vows. I stood right behind Caila, making myself focus on anything but that knot of unease which was building in my stomach.

Caila, in a flowy white robe, glowed with a nimbus as her trembling hands clutched her bouquet tightly. Jace Sharpe stood opposite her, tall, broad-shouldered, and every inch the untouchable billionaire-impeccably fitted within a tailored black suit like a second skin. His chiseled jaw and piercing blue eyes were impossible to ignore, much like his clinical composure.

I ground my teeth. Why did he have to look like that? I thought bitterly, reprimanding myself silently for even noticing. Yes, he was ridiculously good-looking, but he was also a manipulative, arrogant prick-forcing me and my sister into this bizarre arrangement.

Jace's eyes moved from Caila to mine, his face unreadable. I didn't back down, instead flashing him back a glare. Let him think he didn't rattle me, even though my stomach clenched with every passing second that his and my gazes held.

Something flickered in Jace's eyes, a feeling impossible to decipher. As quickly as it appeared, it was gone and replaced with his usual calm detachment.

The minister now turned to Jace, indicating that it was time for his vows.

Jace took a deep breath; his hands were steady as he started to speak. His tone of voice was measured, almost cold, like he was reciting some business contract rather than promising his life to someone.

"I, Jace Sharpe, take you, Caila Soleil, to be my lawfully wedded wife. I promise to honor and protect you, to stand beside you through the challenges of life, and to uphold the commitments we make today."

No mention of love. No warmth. Just another transaction in the world of Jace Sharpe.

When it was Caila’s turn, her voice trembled as she repeated the minister’s words. She stumbled over a line, her cheeks flushing, but she managed to get through it. My heart ached for her.

The rings were exchanged, gleaming under the sun and the minister’s voice grew louder, signaling the moment everyone had been waiting for.

By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Mr. Sharpe, you may now kiss your bride."

I stiffened, my breath catching as Jace reached for Caila's veil.

Slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, he lifted the fine material away from Caila's face. His hand tipped Caila's chin up, almost as if he had rehearsed the movement many times before. Then, his eyes refusing to release mine, he lowered his mouth and pressed his lips to Caila's.

The kiss was chaste, brief, but it sent an uncomfortable pang through my chest. My stomach twisted. What is this? Jealousy? I thought, horrified at the possibility. No, it can't be.

So, I looked away.