Strike ( Book 4: Stronger Series )

19. Vows

Three torturous hours later, I was standing in front of the closed back doors of the house, looking through the glass at the scene awaiting me outside. And I couldn't find my breath.

My hair was curled into long, loose spirals, a diamond encrusted silver rose-shaped comb held my hair to the right side of my head so my spiraled strands draped in front of my right shoulder. My nails had been perfected, and my makeup was fit for an award show. All my remaining bruises had been expertly disguised by airbrush capability to the point where they were essentially nonexistent. A diamond necklace circled my throat along with my collar, dropping to the middle of my chest while heavy chandelier diamond earrings hung from my ears. My wrists and ankles continued to adorn my usual chains of diamonds and platinum, attracting enough attention to the ink on my wrists that validated my future husband's claim to me.

Glancing at my reflection from the windows, I barely recognized myself, my breath catching in my throat as I focused on keeping my heart rate even.

The dress was a mermaid silhouette with a white and cream-colored lace bodice that hugged my curves all the way past my hips until it fanned out in sheets of white chiffon all the way to the floor. The train was obnoxiously long, and the lacy straps along my shoulders connecting to the open back formed perfectly against my skin. The sweetheart neckline gave just the right amount of cleavage that Darren would appreciate without distracting others. The design was beautiful, but it held its purpose that I was sure was carefully constructed by the man waiting for me outside.

The giant diamond engagement ring suddenly felt very heavy as I tightened my hands around my massive bouquet of white roses and lilies. My stupid tiny ass hands barely wrapped around the fucking thing, and it made me want to just chuck the stupid flowers right out the fucking window.

My dress felt tight around my ribs, tighter than I remembered ... or maybe it was just my goddamn nerves restricting my breath. I suddenly wished Camaro was here to distract me with her perfect smiling face just so I had something to laugh at before I walked out, but Darren wanted her locked up for the evening to prevent any problems.

"Miss Jaden," Owen said behind me. "It's time."

I felt my heart stop.

Jaden ... stop being a little bitch. All you have to do is walk a few steps, say a few words, and after that, you can drink as much as you want until you black the fuck out and forget the whole damn thing. This means nothing, and you know it. Just go out there, do what you do best, and make him happy.

I shook my head and laughed. My inner conscious always had my back. That bitch was everything.

Taking a final deep breath, I slowly exhaled through my nose and gave a final nod.

"Let's go."

The doors opened, and the music began to play through the loud speakers, alerting the guests to rise from their seats in my honor. My white heels clacked against the concrete pavement as the long chiffon train of my dress trailed several feet behind me, where Clive and Owen walked in stride.

Sunlight encased the entire field where hundreds of chairs were set up. Hundreds of faces I didn't recognize stared back at me – some of wonder and disbelief, others with clear disdain or anger, and some completely blank. But those faces weren't important. The only one I needed to focus on was the one several paces ahead of me.

The second my eyes locked onto his, it took all my strength not to immediately stop in my tracks. Clad in a black tux and white shirt, hair neatly slicked back with a touch of five o'clock shadow on his hard jaw, he was the epitome of fierce masculine beauty, if such a thing existed. He stood so tall among the crowd, his intimidating figure minimized everything around him and demanded all my focus. But it wasn't just how he looked that caused me to nearly pause; it was how he was looking at me, a look that made my blood run cold.