by Brooke Page
Wicked Wedding
Part One
Brooke Page
Copyright Brooke Page 2017
SMASHWORDS EDITION
All Rights Reserved. This book may not be re-produced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the property of the author and your support and respect is appreciated. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
WARNING
The following story contains mature themes and sexual situations.
It is intended for adult readers.
For Beth.
You deserve a happily ever after.
And a wedding reception with an amazing groom.
Love you!
Part One
I don’t think I’m ready.
That’s what Malcolm said when he pulled me from the bridal suite five hours before we were scheduled to say I do in front of seven-hundred people.
I thought he was kidding. Really, I hugged him and laughed, but he was as stiff as a board, not returning any warmth. He just stood there, straight faced in his designer jeans and overly priced sweater.
With tears welling in my eyes, he turned and left me in the chapel.
I stood there dumbfounded, basked in the sun through the stained glass, my hair curled perfectly, and my heart shattered.
What did my mother and father do? You’d think they would have consoled me, told me Malcolm was a prick from the beginning and that by him leaving it would save me from years of misery. You’d think they wouldn’t care if they lost their money on the venue because the new owner wouldn’t offer a refund.
No, instead, my mother wiped my tears, told me shit happens, and that I had to put on a smile for my father’s clients and business associates. Everyone would be informed when they’d show up for the wedding ceremony that my supposed prince charming got cold feet and the party would still be on. And yes, their strong, independent daughter they’d groomed for success would be present and accounted for.
They might have a different opinion if Malcolm’s father weren’t my father’s biggest client at his law firm.
“This is bullshit. Let’s just leave,” Stacey, my maid of honor, huffed while throwing makeup into her bag. “He can’t humiliate you and get away with it.”
I sighed, dabbing the mascara that had bled underneath my eyes. “I can’t leave.” If I left, my job at my father’s firm would be gone, my school debt wouldn’t be paid, my trust fund would be compromised, and I’d be fucked. My parents had too much leverage. “Just make sure I always have a drink in my hand.”
Stacey frowned. “I always thought Malcolm was an asshole. He just nailed his own coffin with this one.”
I shrugged my shoulders as if I wasn’t a wreck on the inside, tossing back a hit from the bottle of Cristal that was intended for the limo ride to the reception. “Well, if they didn’t think he was an asshole before, they’ll know it now.” Sometimes he was moody with me, but for the most part, he had me fooled to believe he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me.
Setting the bottle next to the sign on the end table that held a photo with a bible verse, I rummaged through my luggage bag that was packed for Cabo, still well aware I’d be going on a romantic honeymoon alone.
“Should I wear red or black?” I asked Stacey, who was striping from the burgundy bridesmaid’s gown and throwing on a stunning royal blue Sheath dress.
“Red says, I just want to have fun, while black says, I’m depressed and hate my life. What about the little white one?”
I glared at her, grabbing the red dress. “I’m sure as hell not wearing white.”
She smirked. “Will the red one meet mom and dad’s standards?”
I raised a brow, sliding the short, tight number on my slender frame. I gave up sugar for a month so I could squeeze into my designer wedding dress. “Malcolm didn’t want me to wear this one in public.”
Stacey grinned. “Then it’s perfect.”
***
The venue was on the lakefront, one of the most prestigious banquet halls in the area. My parents threw down big money for it and made sure I knew how much they had invested in their only daughter’s ‘perfect’ day.
I drove separate from Stacey, wanted to have the time to myself in the car on the way there. She could ride in the limo with the rest of the wedding party. Malcolm’s frat buddies and my sorority sisters could drink all night with my parents without giving a shit if my heart had been yanked out and ripped in half. Even though my sorority sisters huddled around me when I came back to the suit balling, the bitches were probably plotting how to get Malcolm for themselves. He was the catch; everyone on campus either wanted him or wanted to be him. He was well bred like I was, came from money, did what his parents always asked and demanded of him. Maybe he finally got the balls to tell them to fuck off, and that included leaving me. Maybe he never really loved me at all, but only played the part to please his parents. I had done plenty of things I didn’t agree with to please my parents. I closed my eyes, willing myself not to lose it again.
Taking a deep breath and placing my aviators over my blue eyes, I lifted my chin and mentally prepared to face the looks of pity and disapproval. I knew how these people acted. I grew up around the entitled attitudes and endless flaunting of money. They’d judge and blame me, that’s just how they rolled.
Fluffing my now straightened hair in the mirror; I took one last deep breath and opened my car door, my black Jimmy Choos that were meant for the honeymoon, giving me a good five inches of confidence. I kept my eyes forward, not bothering to see who was standing outside of the venue or who might be walking in at the same time as me. I held my clutch to my stomach, ready to take on the world.
“Are you here for the Baxter/ French wedding reception?” The bellhop asked as he opened the door. I mentally cringed. You’d think my parents would inform the workers that the party title had changed.
“Yes,” I coughed, sliding through the threshold of the heavy glass door.
The perfection of the décor sickened me. No detail was missed by the wedding planner, from extravagant center pieces to the bows on the backs of the chairs. Keeping my sunglasses on, I stepped into the room, well aware everyone was already staring at me. The soft hum of voices evaporated the second my presence was known.
“Chloe, come over here, darling. I wanted to introduce you to Mr. Callahan,” my mother chimed. Thankfully, my sunglasses hid my eye roll. Matthew Callahan was the CEO of a Sporting Goods company across town and happened to be one of my father’s clients. He was mid- thirties, very handsome in an exotic way, and had my heart not been stomped on earlier, I’d been halfway interested in batting my eyes at him. I knew my mother’s intentions. I could tell by the pitch of her voice. She was already trying to fix me up with the next best thing.
“Forgive me,” I said sweetly, holding out my hand to Mr. Callahan to shake. He took it gratefully, a gleam in his eye that matched his grin. “But I need to take care of an issue before our chat.”
“Of course. Come and find me after? I’d love to talk more.”
My lip twitched when I tried to smile. Taking my hand away, I spun on my heel, my eyes floating around the room. Searching for anything to make me feel at ease. All I saw were multiple pairs of eyes.
Yep. They were all looking at me without trying to be obvious.
I sighed, then marched to the DJ booth. “Can you please get some music going?”
The DJ looked up from his
laptop, a heavy furrow in his brow. “Um, sure… who are you?”
My head cocked to the side as I sucked in my cheeks. Yeah, they didn’t inform the staff…
Taking my sunglasses off and placing them on the tip of my nose, I snarled, “I’m the bride. Play something that doesn’t scream, ‘I just got stood up, alright?”
His eyebrows shot upward while his jaw slacked open. “Um, sure… so… this isn’t a traditional wedding?”
I bit my bottom lip so I wouldn’t bite his head off. It wasn’t his fault I got ditched. “Nope. No groom. I caught him fucking my dog. Play music that doesn’t suck.”
He nodded, then went back to his laptop. So I lied about the dog, but it made me feel better. Placing my sunglasses over my eyes, I breezed by the round tables covered in silky linens and passed the ice sculpture of two swans making a heart. My mother insisted on the ridiculous sculpture. Behind that was the door to the back deck, where the outdoor bar was.
I needed a drink. A strong drink. One that would make my heart feel numb until I could pick up the pieces.
Lights were strung along the railings that overlooked the lake, with a massive bouquet at every pillar. Thankfully, no one realized this was part of the reception. My eyes immediately found the contemporary styled bar, the bartender preparing for the nonstop drinkers. Taking a seat, I threw my glasses and clutch to the bar top, waiting for him to turn around and realize he wasn’t alone.
“I need the strongest drink you’ve got,” I sighed.
The tall body dressed in a black dress shirt turned, and I nearly fell out of my seat.
His chiseled jaw twitched in satisfaction the moment his dark brown eyes met mine. “Is that all you need?” His deep voice purred. Both his arms stretched out to rest in front of me.
My jaw dropped open. “What…?”
He chuckled. “I can do more than just make drinks, Chloe, but you already know that.”
My eyes narrowed as my mouth snapped shut. He most certainly could. He’d been a constant thorn in my side through college. Cocky didn’t even begin to describe his attitude. Women drooled over him, always fighting for his attention. He was the sexiest man I’d ever seen, and he was also the most obnoxious. He flirted and crossed lines many times before, and my traitorous body loved it. My conscience on the other hand constantly scolded me for daydreaming about giving in to his temptations.
Leaning over the bar, I glared at him. “What are you doing here, Josh?” I whispered harshly. “You can’t be here!”
His lip curled upward. He always loved getting under my skin. “I’m working. And if you want a drink, I suggest you be a little nicer.”
Biting my tongue, I puut my sunglasses back over my eyes and grumbled, “I’m sorry.”
He smirked and nodded his head in triumph, then turned to begin making a concoction of alcohol.
How in the world did Josh Titlist become the bartender for my wedding reception? He was in Malcolm’s fraternity, for god’s sake! Didn’t he have better things to do than wait on assholes like my father’s clients? “Shouldn’t you be interning at a law firm right now?” I muttered.
He kept his eyes on his task. “Shouldn’t you be wearing a white dress?”
Touché. Tapping my French manicured nails on the marble top, I muttered, “I was never a fan of white.”
“It does represent purity.” He turned and gave me a grin, and I couldn’t help but feel a warm tingle creep between my thighs. I hated how he had such an effect on me.
“Who says I’m not pure?” I challenged.
His grin widened. The term, panty dropping smile, fit him well. “A hunch. Here.” He placed a tall glass with amber liquid and limes. I looked at it with hesitance. “You said you wanted something strong.”
Sighing, I gave in, taking a big gulp. My face winced as the liquid burned down my throat. “What is this?”
“Something that will make all of your problems go away.”
I bobbed my head back and forth. “Cheers to that.”
He chuckled as I took another gulp. “Watch out, your wedding night might not meet requirements if you drink too many of those.”
I laughed under my breath. “There will be no wedding night.”
His brows furrowed in confusion.
Licking my lips, I set the half empty glass down. Swallowing my pride, I filled him in on the humiliating details. “Malcolm got cold feet.”
Josh crossed his arms and shook his head. “He’s always been a huge pussy.”
I raised my brows to agree, taking another sip before speaking. “Nothing I can do about it now.”
I wasn’t surprised by Josh’s reaction toward Malcolm’s dick move. They never got along. I think it was because Malcolm was always one step ahead of Josh when he didn’t deserve to be. They both were on the crew team. Malcolm got on because his parents were alumni, while Josh received a scholarship. Josh aced all of his exams in pre-law, but somehow Malcolm was Summa Cum Laude while Josh wasn’t. Even their fraternity looked up to Josh as a leader, but Malcolm was the president.
His forehead crinkled in confusion while he watched me put the glass to my lips. “Why the hell are you here if you didn’t get married?”
Chugging the alcohol, I set it back down for a refill. “Because of those fine people inside, that’s why, and the new asshole that owns this place wouldn’t give my parents a refund.”
His lip twitched in amusement. Grabbing the glass, Josh began filling it with more alcohol. “You’re twenty-four years old, Chloe. If you don’t want to be somewhere, you don’t have to be.”
He was right, except my finances were in the other room, mingling with their high status crowd. I didn’t know how to go about living on my own. I’d lived in the sorority house that had a maid and a chef, and daddy’s credit card was my best friend.
“It’s a little more complicated.”
Josh set the newly filled glass in front of me, keeping his hand firmly grasped around the cup. I tried to take it from him, but he wouldn’t budge. My brows furrowed in annoyance.
“Getting shit faced in front of all those people won’t help.”
My scowl deepened. “It’s two drinks. I’ll be fine.”
He leaned over the counter, his warm breath caressing my cheek. A shiver ran down my spine, my anger fizzling from his controlling temper. His free hand removed my sunglasses so his chocolate eyes could melt into mine. I’d forgotten how his gaze made my knees weak. I was thankful to be sitting on a barstool, otherwise, I would have fallen over.
My head tilted in his direction, inhaling his scent. His cologne always smelled better than Malcolm’s, and I hated myself for making the connection.
Only inches from my face, Josh whispered, “You finish this and it’ll be like slamming six shots. I was there for your 21st birthday, and many parties after; I know your tolerance isn’t that high.”
Watching his lips move while he talked was hypnotizing. They’d disobediently been on me before, and my body loved it, yet my conscious knew better. My lips were currently craving to taste his, jealous of the skin on my shoulder. He’d kissed the back of my neck a few times in the midst of parties when we had danced in the dark. It was erotic, and I always wanted more, but I had Malcolm, so I’d fight my urges and leave, knowing Josh’s lips on me were a major no-no. Now, however, I had no reason to feel guilty. I could listen to my body, and it wanted to delve into the forbidden fruit.
Going against my instincts, I licked my lips and set my hand on his wrist. “I’m a big girl, I can handle myself.”
Josh’s eyes watched my tongue, his mouth in a firm line. His muscles flexed under my touch. He felt the spark, the tension that always brewed between us. The chemistry was there, and I was waiting for him to make the next move-- I needed him to take the lead.
Studying me intently with furrowed brows, he warned, “Don’t look at me like that.”
Ignoring his threat, I resituated in my seat and fluttered my eyelashes. “Like what?” I chal
lenged. My heart pounded in anticipation, throbbing from how his tongue darted out to wet his lips. I wanted that tongue between my thighs. I heard many rumors he worked magic with his mouth.
Flattening his palms on the bar, a low growl emerged from his chest the closer we became. He was leaning into me now, his head craning toward the venue, his jaw ticking has he glanced through the windows at the oblivious reception guests.
He stomped around the counter and grasped my wrist. “Come on.”
Yanking me with him, I nearly stumbled on my heels from the effects of the first drink. He wasn’t kidding, it was strong.
Catching my breath, I asked, “Where are we going?”
He didn’t respond, only brought me behind a tall brick retaining wall, shielding us from the venue, but offering a view of the setting sun on the lake. The purples and oranges that painted the sky weren’t enough to distract my pounding heart of the mystery of Josh. His hips pressed into mine, his broad stature towering over me. My back ached from the cool, scratchy texture of the brick, but Josh’s warm breath across my cheek made the discomfort vanish.
“I’ve waited forever for this moment,” he whispered against my cheek. “Seeing you here, in this little red dress, those blue eyes begging me to give in and taste you… again.”
My breath hitched as his growing erection dug into my stomach.
“Don’t think I forgot about the frat party during our Junior year. You remember it, don’t you?” He teased, knowing damn well I’d never be able to forget that night.
“Why don’t you remind me?” I panted, the ridged tone of his breath caused my core to quiver, moistening against my will.
He chuckled under his breath, his lips touching the shell of my ear when he spoke. “You and your sorority sisters were in the hot tub, giggling and sipping on those wine coolers Malcolm always made sure to have stocked in the fridge. I couldn’t help but slip in, too.”
I huffed, recalling how they all fawned over him. “You got a show from half of my bridal party.”
