Fake Empire(21)

She unclips the belt and steps out of the harness. I was annoyed she came. Now I’m irritated she appears to be leaving. “What are you doing?”

“Everything okay over here?” Dave appears, his calm face showing only the slightest hint of concern. In his world, things probably go according to plan. He probably doesn’t even have a plan.

“Fine.” Scarlett gives him a small, tight smile that anyone with eyes could see is fake. “Unfortunately, I have to go.” She doesn’t even make up an excuse. “Thanks for your help, Dave.”

“Scarlett…” I start.

She walks away without a word, brunette ponytail swishing. Mocking me with each step. Scarlett only pauses to change back into her heels. Then she’s gone, cutting through the crowded street and out of sight.

I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever watch her leave without a mixture of anger and regret.

For my sanity’s sake, I sure hope so.





CHAPTER FIVE





SCARLETT





My mother starts crying when she sees me standing in my wedding dress. I’m not expecting her tears. After almost thirty years of marriage to the emotionless void known as my father, I didn’t think there would be much sentimentality on display today. Just appreciation for the hasty planning it took to pull off what every news publication is calling the wedding of the century.

In the past six weeks since my engagement to Crew was announced, every detail of my wedding has been considered. Every possible problem accounted for. Every minute accounted for.

This is an unplanned one. Sophie and Nadia snuck into the room off the transept, where I’ve spent the morning getting ready to say hello. Sophie was the one who begged me to show them my dress. I’ve only worn it once since I approved the design, for the fitting to confirm my measurements hadn’t changed.

I take all three reactions in—Sophie’s wide eyes, Nadia’s gasp, my mother’s tears—before I turn to stare at my reflection. I love this dress. Love it more than I should. Love it more than any other article of clothing I’ve ever worn.

It’s strapless. The line of my collarbone and curve of my shoulder are exposed above the intricately detailed corset. Alluring without being outrageous. The hand-stitched lace leads to layers of cloud-soft tulle and a sweeping train that trails several feet behind me. I’ve never felt more beautiful than I do wearing this dress. It’s a gown meant for a bride who’s excited about her wedding. Who has no doubts—about anything, much less her choice of groom.

Somewhat unfortunately, not to mention surprisingly, I fulfill both criteria.

Hovering in the doorway, I watch my mother swipe at her cheeks before she speaks. I figured I had another twenty minutes before she returned from running through every detail with the wedding planner—again. “Scarlett! Why are you wearing your dress already? Your hair still needs to be done.”

Nadia and Sophie both startle at the sound of her sharp tone. I know it well, though. It’s much easier to mask emotions under harshness than happiness.

“I know. I’ll change back.” I smile at Sophie and Nadia. “I’ll see you guys after, okay?” They take the offered out, slipping back out of the room immediately. I’m left to change and face my mother. I hang my wedding dress back inside its bag and pull on the silk robe I was wearing before, over the white lingerie my husband won’t see.

“You’re ready?” my mother asks. For more than the hairdresser, I gather.

I inhale, then make the request I’ve debated since I woke up this morning. I expected it to feel like an ordinary day. None of it has felt that way. Not showering or eating breakfast or riding to the cathedral where I’ll become Scarlett Kensington. “Is Crew here?”

My mother studies me, curiosity burning in the hazel irises I inherited. “Of course.” She sounds offended by the mere possibility he might not be. Any hiccup today would be more than a slight against me.

“Can you…get him?”

My mom sighs. “Scarlett, if you’re having second thoughts—”

“I’m not. I just want to talk to him.”

“I don’t think that—”

I cut her off again. “Mom. Please.”

Maybe it’s the please that convinces her. I’m not sure the last time that word was spoken between us. From my mouth, at least.

“Okay. I’ll ask.” She disappears out into the expanse of the cathedral that’s filled with people preparing for the wedding or guests showing up extra early for good seats.

I’m all alone in here.

The star of the show and the pariah.

I’m nervous. I didn’t think I would be, and it’s the final sign that this is not a business deal. A merger like any other. Maybe it is to Arthur Kensington. To my father. To the rest of Manhattan’s elite, who have all gossiped about the possibility of this day for years. To Crew. But for me, it’s different. Telling myself it isn’t won’t change that fact.

This is my wedding, my marriage.

It’s personal.

When the door opens again a few minutes later, I know it’s not my mother. I can just tell.

He came.

“You’re not wearing your dress.”

I turn to face him. “You’re not supposed to see me in my dress until I’m down the aisle.”