The Bride Wore White (The Captive Bride Series, Book I)

by Dominique D. DuBois

  I figured that the only thing I would truly have to worry about was the fact that my paychecks would eventually show up on my tax returns, but I also knew that the IRS computers were much harder to hack into (and he’d have no idea to even try to look into the state of Seattle). Just about any private eye with relatively decent hacking skills (or anybody like Victor, who was rich enough and smart enough to think of bribing a police officer), could get your bank records pulled, though.

  But luckily for me, the direct deposit entries only had the initials “CMS”, and a routing number. I’d checked on that specifically. There was one identifier that indicated that it was a school paycheck direct deposit, but I can’t imagine how many schools in the US have CMS in their names – especially in Colorado alone. Victor would never be able to figure out it stood for Cameron High School in a tiny little suburb of Seattle. Especially when there were no specific state identifiers, and since the check was being direct deposited into a Winterhaven bank, just seeing that direct deposit print out would honestly give him zero leads.

  Plus, not many people would think to hack into my mom’s account, anyway, and it wasn’t even her main account at all. It was a little known checking account she started years ago in a different bank than the one she used now (she’d changed banks after she’d married my step-dad and he’d added her to all his accounts). She’d figured the paperwork was too much trouble to have this other one closed out, and suddenly, I was only all-too glad of that fact. This old one was even still in her maiden name since she’d opened it after my dad had died and long before she’d married her new husband, which, since I had never even told Victor her first name (I’d honestly never spoken to him about my family at all), and since she and I did not share last names, it would also make things a little bit harder for him or anyone else who was trying to find me.

  The good news was that every couple of years, they sent her a new ATM card. Then, she activated it with the same old PIN, and it never really mattered that she hadn’t updated her info after her second marriage. She could still get my cash out regardless of the fact that her driver’s license now had a different last name. Talk about luck.

  So I played everything as carefully as if I were hiding out from an old mafia Don whom I’d ratted out to the FBI, and it had worked. An entire year had passed me quietly by; a long period of time where I hadn’t seen Victor, or heard from him, or even heard about him, and I finally, finally had gotten to the point in my life where I felt like I was beginning to heal. I still had a lot of angry recriminations, but mostly against myself for being such a stupid fool. But you couldn’t change the past; you could only make the future better.

  And then ten months ago, right after I had finished my Master’s Degree through an accelerated program, I’d started dating Charlie Radovich; a handsome, sweet, gentle man who was a math teacher at the same school as me. Knowing I’d had an extremely, extremely bad experience with a prior ex-boyfriend (although he didn’t know all the particulars), he did at least agree not to push the physical part of our relationship at all. Months had gone by where we’d just platonically dated, as I’d grown to like him more and more. There was none of that deep, all-consuming physical desire that I’d felt for Victor. But he loved me, he cherished me, and he treated me very well. And then before I knew it, here I was; getting ready for a wedding to a man that I had yet to even sleep with. How in the hell had I let that happen?

  Suddenly, I became fraught with worry over the fact that we hadn’t made love yet. Victor had just been so overwhelming, physically, mentally, emotionally - everything. It was like he had penetrated me down to the soul. When he had been inside me, it had been like I was no longer myself; I was simply another part of him.

  It had been frightening, and intimidating, and consuming, and that was why I had been determined to stay away from sex until marriage. That and because I never wanted to be dumped after sex ever again. But now, although I had initially been quite glad that Charlie had let me off the hook as far as sex was concerned, I was beginning to wonder about the wisdom of it. What if sex with him was terrible? What if he didn’t want to do it often, or wasn’t very good at it? What if he thought I wasn’t good at it? What if he was as possessive and demanding as Victor? Well, that last one certainly couldn’t be true. No one could be as possessive and demanding as Victor. No one.

  But how could I let it get to this point? Here on my wedding day, sliding myself into my beautiful, crystal-beaded white wedding gown, and I hadn’t yet even seen my soon-to-be husband naked. Thinking about that now, about what he would look like with no clothes on, I found myself starting to blush: unfortunately, not really in a good way.

  He didn’t do anything for me really, the way Victor had; turning me on, making me obsessed just with looking at him, feeling him, wanting him. Just touching his skin had made me feel all warm and tingly and crazy inside, and that alone had been like some sort of drug. And so, I guessed it was a good thing that Charlie didn’t affect me in the same way, because I never wanted to be hurt the way that Victor had hurt me, ever again.

  I looked at myself in the mirror now as I smoothed my dress down in the front. My eyes were wet-looking, wildly panicked, flitting from object to object. My cheeks were flushed, and my chest was rising and falling rapidly with the pounding beats of my heart.

  How was it that I was getting married at all, I wondered? Me! I’d hardly even dated anyone – just Victor and Charlie, and yet here I was, willing to tie myself down for the rest of my life. I felt fear curdling in my stomach as acid rose up in the back of my throat. Had I been so eager to get away from that memory of Victor, of how he had used and exploited my body and mind, that I had been willing to marry this gentle, kind, bland man just because he was so different? Charlie was many things; smart, decent, honorable, moral, and sensitive. But could I love him for the rest of my life? Did I even love him now?

  I wasn’t sure if I had ever loved Victor, and that was for certain. I had thought so, that night, after sex. But he had never given me the chance to understand what I’d sensed in my heart. I had long been obsessed with him, enamored of him, engrossed and engulfed by him; that was for sure. But had it been love? Even there in the end? I was still not sure to this day, because honestly, I was pretty damn confident that simple “love” could never be quite that strong. What I had felt for Victor, what I still felt for Victor, went beyond what us mere mortals could describe in just one simple word.

  Regardless, it had been too much. It had been unhealthy and so uncontrollably consuming, it had wiped out everything else in my life. I hadn’t cared about friends, or family, or school. And that was no kind of life. Besides, as much as I had given Victor, and he had still wanted more. He had wanted so much from me; the repercussions of giving it to him had been scandalously frightening. I had certainly tried, but I know that Victor had needs that I’d in no way begun to meet. Physical needs, demanding needs, scary needs. So it was probably a good thing that he’d dumped me, after all.

  This way was much better. I’d have Charlie, and we’d make gentle love, and we’d read the paper together, and have children, and raise them well. We’d live long, happy lives, and have fulfilling careers, and everything else that you were supposed to have to make your life complete.

  Suddenly, I heard a knock on the door, and I almost shrieked out loud. Looking up at myself in the mirror again, I laughed softly, then I called out, “Come in.”

  The door swung open and Bethany walked into the room. “Alright Tempest,” she said, “you’ve been in here alone long enough. It’s time for me to help.”

  I had sent her out quite a while ago, stating that I needed some time alone to just “chill” before the ceremony. She knew me well enough to give me some space, and she probably thought that the hour and a half I’d had to collect myself had surely helped. Only it hadn’t. Instead of using those moments to center myself and calm my nerves, I’d instead been allowing myself to think about Victor. And although it had been necess
ary, it had unfortunately also made me even more nervous and panicked and afraid.

  “Just think,” she said as she walked over to me and buttoned up the back of my dress, “in less than two hours, you’ll be Tempest Blaine Radovich! You are taking Radovich, right? Or are you keeping Tempest Rue Blaine?”

  “No,” I told her, “I’m not keeping my own name. Perhaps I’m a bit old-fashioned, but I do think a wife should take her husband’s name. So, I’m actually going to be ‘Tempest Rue Radovich’. I think that sounds the best.”

  “Tempest Rue Radovich,” she said, rolling it around on her tongue. “I like that.”

  Next she had me sit down on the small white loveseat so she could help me with my stockings. She slid them on one by one and then helped me fasten the garters. I had the regular white satin garters that held up the stockings, but I was also going to be wearing a separate baby blue garter just above my right knee so Charlie could throw it to the men after I’d tossed my bouquet. The bouquet was sitting over on the table by the door, and I glanced at it quickly now. It had beautiful white lilies, long-stemmed, all held together by a large, white satin bow.

  My shoes were white satin heels, my stockings were white silk, and the dress was white satin, sleeveless, with spaghetti straps, a heart-shaped bodice, a flouncy skirt that trailed along the floor, and with thousands upon thousands of glass beads and seed pearls and glittering sequins sewn on. It was very, very pretty.

  I had actually wanted a different dress – one very similar to this, but professionally made. That dress (which I had seen in the window of a Bridal boutique downtown) had honestly been the loveliest dress I had ever seen. Of course, it had been fifteen thousand dollars, so instead, I’d had to take a photo of that dress, buy all of the materials, and then pay a good friend of mine to make this one. It was a fair duplicate, but still, I couldn’t help but long for the one I’d seen in the window. As talented of a dress-maker as my friend was, this dress still didn’t even come close.

  Thinking of that now, I sighed, and Bethany, figuring I was nervous, tried to calm me. “Don’t worry,” she said, “this will go off without a hitch. By the way, your hair still looks gorgeous.”

  Absentmindedly, I touched it gently with my left hand. It was up in beautiful curls, pinned to the top of my head with hairpins that had more crystals and seed pearls on the ends. My veil was over on the table by my bouquet, patiently waiting for me.

  We were in a small chapel in Winterhaven, having flown there and arranged this here specifically so that all my family and friends could easily attend. Charlie’s parents and his brother, and two of his best friends had also flown in from Seattle, so in this tiny chapel, where I’d been raised all my young life, going to confession and catechism and Sunday and Midnight Mass, we actually had a pretty full house.

  After the ceremony, we were going to have cake and punch and snacks and music at a reception that was to be held in one of the larger, family-owned restaurants in town. We had rented out the entire place for the evening, and the caterer was over there now setting things up.

  Afterwards, we were set to spend the night at a hotel in Delta, which was the closest big town, and then we were going to fly back to Seattle where we had the next few days off. We didn’t really have any plans for our “honeymoon” other than using that time to move my things into his place. As it was, I still lived with that same roommate (who had also flown in from Seattle and was a part of my wedding party), in the same large but cozy apartment near the middle school that I’d begun working out when I’d first moved to Washington. Now Charlie, he owned a ranch-style house in one of the other surrounding suburbs. I didn’t really like it that much, the layout was too cramped and too old-fashioned (with wood-paneling on the walls and even some of the original shag carpeting still remaining), but I figured I would grow to appreciate it over time. At least I hoped so, anyway.

  Suddenly, the clock struck two and my stomach lurched. I only had thirty more minutes until it was time. Oh my God.

  Bethany saw the look of sheer horror on my face, and she tried to comfort me, saying softly, “Well, Charlie is a good guy, right? And he is really cute and seems to be very nice. I’m sure he’ll make a great husband.”

  Grimly, I nodded at her and tried to plaster on a smile.

  “I mean, you guys seem to get along great!” she continued stiffly. “And ah, ah, well, I guess you guys seem to really love each other, so…”

  “It’s okay,” I told her, choking back an avalanche of tears that suddenly threatened to spill out of my eyes. “Really. Yes, he’s a nice guy, and I love him, and we get along great, so things will be fine. I’m just nervous, that’s all.” But who was I really reassuring here? Her, or me?

  “Listen,” she told me, “let’s make sure everything is ready, okay? So, you’re dressed, you just need help with the veil. And your step-dad is outside waiting to walk you down the aisle. Your family is all here, and your bridesmaids are in the next room, waiting until the last minute so they didn’t cramp you in here.” Everyone could see how nervous and upset I was, and everyone had thoughtfully been giving me a pretty wide berth. Only Bethany, my Maid of Honor and oldest friend, had come in periodically to check on me.

  “Also, Charlie is ready. Bless his heart, he’s already been waiting nervously up by the altar for the past hour. Ah, okay, let’s see…when the music starts playing, it will be time. Rosie will go first with the flowers, then Marcia, then Sue, then me.” Rosie was my new step-niece, Marcia was a cousin and good friend, and Sue was my roommate. “Then your step-dad will meet you at the end of the aisle, take your arm, and escort you down. See, it’ll be a cake-walk!”

  Again, I simply smiled wanly at her. I didn’t know how I felt about having Martin escort me down the aisle. As a step-father, I couldn’t ask for a better guy. But still, I honestly hardly knew him.

  “What about you?” she asked abruptly. “Do you have everything you need? You have to have something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue. You’ve got the blue garter and the new earrings, and here,” she said as she slid a crystal bracelet off of her wrist, “I’ve been meaning to give this to you. Here is your ‘something borrowed’.”

  “Thanks,” I told her as I slipped it numbly on my arm.

  “Now,” she said, “all you need is something old.”

  At that, I drew an immediate blank and another wash of panic rode over me. I didn’t have anything old. Nothing. Was that a bad omen of terrible things to come? I had simply forgotten one of the most important old wives tales about having good luck in a marriage. Frantically, I looked around the room. Eyes darting into all corners, I knew immediately that there was nothing “old” to be found in there. Nothing I could wear or take with me, anyway.

  And with that, another tear finally escaped from my eye and slid slowly down my left cheek.

  “Hey, hey,” Bethany said as she patted me comfortingly on the back with one hand. “It’s okay, it’s nothing, really. Listen, my Grandma is out there. She has a beautiful white pearl brooch. We can clip it to your spaghetti strap right above the bodice here and it will look like it was made for this dress, okay? It’s like a hundred years old or something, so it will be great. And that will be another ‘borrowed’ item for extra good luck, right?”

  Woodenly, I nodded my head. I felt a measure of calm now. It was going to be okay. Bethany would see to it.

  “Okay then,” she told me, “you wait right here and I’ll be back in a jiff.”

  She stood up and breezed out, shutting the door behind her.

  Almost immediately after the door closed, I heard a loud clacking sound coming from the window. What in the heck was that?

  This part of the church was way in the back, so it would be easy for me to come out and walk right down the aisle. It was a part of the two resident Priests’ private offices, and so that they could have easy ingress and egress without disturbing each other’s sermons, it had its own door leading to the outside. In fa
ct, the door opened onto a walkway that led around the corner and right up to the main parking lot.

  The door had a window in it, and a window beside it, and the sound had come from one of those.

  A second later, I heard it again, and this time I could tell that it was coming from the door, itself. Someone was throwing acorns up against the glass panes.

  Immediately curious, I stood up and walked over to the door. We were here in Winterhaven now, not Seattle, and in the middle of this tiny town, during the apex of the day, with probably a hundred visitors all packed into the church up front waiting for the ceremony, I had absolutely no fear. Boy was I stupid.

  My skirt rustling, I delicately held it up on both sides as I made my way across the thin carpet and over to the wooden door. When I got there, I palmed the cool metal handle, turned the knob gently, and then pulled it open. I figured it was one of my friends, wanting to say “good luck” before the service started, or a random family member coming by to give me a shot of courage or a few kind words, or perhaps even Charlie himself (who honestly knew better because seeing the bride before the wedding was bad luck, but still, I could picture him coming back here to give me one last kiss before all the brouhaha commenced).

  But when I leaned out to say “hello”, my eyes fell on the interloper, and I immediately lost my voice. In fact, I even lost my very breath. Head reeling, feeling like I was going to faint, heart pounding, and ears ringing, I took two stumbling steps backwards as Victor leaned in towards me.