The Reluctant Bride (Arranged Marriage #1)(56)

At one point my driver takes a little detour to get us there faster, he reassured, but I swear to fucking God it actually took us longer. The guy kept cursing under his breath and punching the steering wheel.

By the time I get to the hotel, I’m leaping out of the car, racing into the lobby with my gaze on my phone. Looking up exactly where I’m supposed to meet everyone when like a dumbass, I run straight into someone, nearly knocking myself on my ass with the impact.

“Sorry, bro,” I tell him as I take a step back, frowning when the man turns to face me.

Huh. He’s familiar, though I can’t place him.

And he’s watching me as if I look familiar to him, too.

“It’s all right,” he says with an accent, one I don’t immediately recognize. “This might seem rude, but your face…it’s familiar. Have we met before?”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” I tell him, squinting, trying to place him. Dark hair, dark eyes. Tall and broad. A little older.

Okay, yeah, he’s definitely older. I can tell from the crinkles at the corner of his eyes, and the faint graying at his temples.

I can’t place him, and I don’t have time to figure it out.

“Sorry I ran into you,” I tell him as I start to head for the bank of elevators on the other side of the lobby.

He says nothing as I leave him where he stands, and I realize quick where I’m going doesn’t need the elevator. The garden is on the ground level, and I wander through the maze of hallways in search of the area where we’re to be married tomorrow.

Seriously. What the hell. I’m getting married? Still hard for me to wrap my head around it.

Once I finally enter the garden, I’m so late they’re already in the middle of what looks like a ceremony run-through, with someone else standing in for me as the groom.

Charlotte’s oldest brother, Grant.

Fucking great.

That asshole is the one who spots me first, glowering at me with murder in his eyes. Charlotte sees me next, unmistakable relief on her face when our gazes connect.

“Perry! Finally! Everyone, the groom is here!” Mother cries, and everybody goes into swift motion. A woman with bright red hair comes over to me and grabs my arm, tugging on it as she glares at me.

“Hurry! You need to get into position!”

“And who are you?” I ask as she half walks, half drags me over to the arbor where Charlotte and her dickish brother are standing.

“I’m Miranda. Your wedding planner.”

Turns out Miranda is a bossy bitch, pushing me around and complaining about my lateness and how I’ve screwed up the entire evening’s schedule. Ignoring her, I walk up to Grant, his expression barely restrained fury as he watches my approach.

“Thanks for helping out,” I tell him, my tone flippant.

I could give a shit about what this guy thinks about me. He’s a prick.

“You’re lucky you showed,” he murmurs, his tone dark. Menacing. “If you hadn’t, I would’ve hunted you down and strung you up by your balls in the middle of Times Square.”

A shudder moves through me at the thought.

“Hey, it’s not my fault I was late. I texted Charlotte and let her know traffic was awful.” Not sure why I bother trying to explain myself to this guy. He’s not listening to me. In fact, he walks away mid-conversation, leaving me standing there talking to no one.

Jesus.

Miranda has already hustled Charlotte away, and I watch as they walk over to Reginald Lancaster. The wedding planner arranges them so they’re standing side by side, their arms hooked together and my mood diminishes when Reginald obviously snaps at Miranda.

The wedding planner is completely unruffled by his outburst—I’m sure she deals with people exploding on her every day. But I note the way Charlotte’s face pales. She doesn’t like it when her father yells.

I don’t either.

Those Lancasters—they’re a fun bunch.

Winston makes his way over to where I’m standing, stopping directly in front of me. “You didn’t get my calls?”

I pull my phone out, checking it quickly before I hold it out to him so he can read the screen. “I don’t have any missed calls from you. Not from anyone.”

“That’s odd.” Winston scowls. “Your fiancée was very worried about you.”

“Please,” I scoff, shoving my phone in my pocket. “She’d probably be glad if I didn’t show. Then she wouldn’t have to go through with this.”

I’m joking.

Sort of.

“I don’t know about that.” Winston glances around, his voice lowering. “She was visibly upset when you didn’t make an appearance and that wedding planner forced her to start the rehearsal without you. I think Charlotte believed you might’ve run out on her.”

Really?

I remember her telling me about that one guy, and I immediately feel like shit. Did she actually think I’d leave her the night before our wedding? I may be a dick sometimes, but I’m not that much of a dick.

My almost-bride has abandonment issues, I know this. Her father is the worst. Her brothers aren’t much better. The guys she’s been with—and I really doubt there have been many—all seem like a bunch of assholes.

Well, only the one. He did a number on her.