Forced Marriage To The Billionaire (Book 1)

Chapter 33: The Preparation

ONE HOUR TO THE WEDDING

"How much do you remember now?" Jorginho asked as he helped Markris with the knotting of his tie.

Markris shrugged. "The last memory of last night is following Ariana outside."

"Hmmm. So what did she tell you?"

Markris moved his mouth to speak but quickly shut it. "I can't remember." He lied through his teeth and promptly turned around to pick up his suit jacket from the bed.

Jorginho didn't believe him for a moment, but he wouldn't push it if Markris did not feel like confiding in him.

"Just to fill in the blanks, when you came in, you ordered a whole barrel of drinks. You got so drunk you couldn't move, so we had to take you to a hotel." Jorginho explained, styling his hair.

"Huh? That's how I got to the hotel. What about the drinks and lingeries on the floor?" His brow raised, interest piqued.

"Two words, Bruce and Steve."

"Oh." Markris nodded. Oddly, he felt a knot lifting off his chest. He had been too disgusted even to imagine himself going wild with girls when he was supposed to be getting married the next day. He could also admit it was not honest, seeing he was ready to get it on with Ariana.

"I'm glad I didn't hurt her." He muttered.

"What?" Jorginho asked, straining his ears.

"Nothing." He shook his head, putting on the suit.

"Don't you want to know why you woke up alone?" Jorginho's eyes twinkled, and the corner of his lips twitched.

"Who cares? As long as nothing happened." He shrugged. Jorginho's face instantly fell. He had been excited to narrate how he chased Steve, Bruce, and the girls they picked up from the room. Now, he would never get the chance.

"Well, your loss."

Markris scrunched his nose and squinted his eyes. "Whatever, man," He moved to the dressing table and picked up his hair gel. "Where exactly is the venue for this wedding again?"

Jorginho gave him a quick look and shook his head. "How do you not know the venue of your wedding?"

"Maybe because Daddy dearest insisted on handling everything?" He replied, scooping the gel on his fingers and gently applying it to his hair.

"Still, you could have shown some sort of curiosity."

"Okay, back off, Jorge. You're just being annoying now." He said. He took the brush from the table, contemplating how to style the hair now. He couldn't ask Jorginho for suggestions either cus the man was hell-bent on being torn on his flesh this morning. "Aren't we even supposed to have stylists?" He hissed when a drop of the gel touched his suit.

"Give me the damn comb!" Jorginho snatched the comb out of his hands. "Sit." He ordered.

"Jeez, take it easy, man." He threw his hands up as he sat on the dressing table.

"We barely have forty minutes to get to the venue. We took half the time we were supposed to prepare to get you sober. Forgive me for not trying to sustain the wrath of your already annoying father." He seethed.

"Fine, fine. Just do your thing then." Markris sighed in defeat and reclined into his seat.

—
THIRTY MINUTES TO THE WEDDING

"We're in the car now, Padre." Verona rolled her eyes. She was struggling to hold a sleeping Archie and answer the call simultaneously. Her father, as usual, was a pain in the ass.