smiled as pleasure, power and anticipation supercharged her orgasm.
She had Luc right where she wanted him. Life was good.
Every single yes was like a nail in her coffin.
Elana stared at the pile of response cards that someone—probably her mother—had laid on her desk. There were dozens of them. Dozens! All vying to attend the society wedding of the year. Elana usually loved this stuff. Weddings were always a hotbed of gossip and fun, not to mention a chance to get impossibly dressed up and drunk. But usually she was watching some other woman vow to spend the rest of her life with one man. She was safe in the pews, dressed in head-to-toe couture and diamonds, a smug smile of contented singledom pinned to her face.
But not this time.
This time she’d be the bride. The bride in white. Marrying Thom. Standing in front of all their friends, and their many frenemies, vowing to love and honor a man who, frankly, did very little for Elana in the romantic sense.
“Is everything okay?”
She startled, her enormous brown eyes drifting across the room, landing on her fiancé. He sat on the sofa, one leg crossed elegantly over the other, his face grim.
He was worried about her.
She knew, because everyone always worried about her. Would she do what was expected? Or would she somehow ruin things at the last possible minute?
“Oh, Thom.” She bit down on her lip, and true anguish filled her being. “I really love you, you know that, right?”
His smile was disarming. She remembered, in a burst, all the things she did love about her fiancé. Their friendship spanned over a decade.
“Well, that’s good, given that we’re getting married soon.”
She nodded, but she couldn’t help wondering: How had this happened?
In one month, she’d morph from fiancée to bride, from woman to wife. The worst part was that it all made perfect sense. They liked the same people. More importantly, they hated the same people.
But earth-shattering, mind-blowing, blood-boiling sex?
Forget about it.
Thom was great for Netflix and champagne nights. He made her laugh. But he didn’t make her come.
Not like Jarrod Jones could. Jarrod, who, with a single look, could reduce her to a puddle of heat and desire.
“What is it?” he pushed, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward. “You look upset. Is it...”
“Dad?” She interrupted, shaking her head. “No.” Her dark brown hair fell in tumbling waves over her shoulders. “It’s us, Thom. I...this wedding...the timing...” She let the sentence drop away, hoping he’d understand. Better, that he might feel the same reluctance and just not know how to voice it.
“What about it?” he prompted gently.
Apparently not.
“With Dad in the hospital, and this...this Fixer person mom told us about... I don’t know. This weirdo pulling the strings of the business? It’s really creepy. The timing just feels wrong.” And probably wouldn’t ever feel right, she amended inwardly.
Thom looked startled. “You didn’t say anything about this Fixer before.”
“Well, I was worried about Daddy, okay!” She sniffled. “I’m really just wondering if this is the right thing to do, I guess.”
“Don’t be silly. Your dad would be the first person to insist we go through with it.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because he was thrilled when we got engaged.”
“He’s a good man, Ellie.” Her dad’s voice had boomed with approval. The kind of approval she rarely felt aimed her way.
She wasn’t like Luc, with his successful plastic surgery practice, or Rafe with his courage to be the man he was, even though it had caused friction between him and their father. Elana was the child who didn’t make sense. She wasn’t smart. She wasn’t clever. She was just Elana—the daughter they all had such low expectations of.
“I know he’s a good man.” She’d smiled, because good was the perfect word for Thom. Banal. Bland. Boring.
“He’ll be an excellent husband.”
“I know.”
She focused her attention back on that moment, that room, and her fiancé. “It’s just...”
“What?” Impatience zinged in the question and drew Elana’s gaze instantly. She was startled. Thom had never so much as raised his voice at her; he was the definition of calm compassion at all times.
“I just don’t know if we should do this.”
He stood, crossing the room with his confident gait. “Why not?” He was back to being measured, but there was something in his manner that made Elana wonder if he wasn’t actually seriously annoyed.
Why not? She imagined, for a second, throwing the truth in his face. Because I’m in a serious lust-fuck phase and I want to stay there. Because Jarrod Jones is all I can think of. Because you’re boring. “Because of Daddy, obviously.”
“Then we’ve already dealt with this. Harrison was all for this wedding. In fact, he was the one who encouraged us to move up the date, remember?”
“But he had no idea he’d end up in a coma,” she pointed out.
“Who would? It’s not the kind of thing you can prepare for!” Thom said, and again, that impatience was back.
“Exactly! And everyone understands that! No one’s going to question us for putting the wedding on hold.”
“For how long, Elana?” he asked quietly, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her forward. He was so slim. At least, compared to Jarrod he was.
“I don’t know!” And her voice was husky with tears. “Until he’s better.”
“And if he doesn’t get better?” Thom murmured, his eyes scanning her face. “I’m sorry, Elana. I want Harrison to pull through this, but let’s get real. He was in a serious car accident. We have to accept that...”
“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we...when he...if we have to.”
He nodded, but his mind was ticking over. Elana could see the thoughts dancing across his expression. She looked away.
“You don’t want to marry me.” The statement swirled into the room and began to buzz toward Elana. Be honest, a voice inside her chanted. Say the words! But immediately she could visualize the faces of her family. Her mother’s weary
