My Fake Fiancé : Navy SEAL Romance, Standalone, Book 3 of Guilty Series (The Guilty Series )

by Odette Stone

  “Our turn.” Dad tucked my arm in his and tugged me to the doorway of the huge cathedral.

  The thunder of feet echoed through the massive church as eight hundred guests stood to honor my walk up the aisle. My eyes flew to the front of the church.

  There he was. Standing straight and tall, looking like a million bucks in his tux. The man I loved.

  Holy fuck. He’d actually shown up.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off his handsome face. Why was he here? What was he thinking? Did he actually want to marry me?

  My trip to the front felt like an underwater dream. Hundreds of face peered at me, as we moved up the aisle. And then Dad helped me up the steps toward Porter. Behind me, Beth adjusted my dress. I couldn’t bring myself to face those grey eyes. Instead, I stared blindly ahead and concentrated on bringing air into my rib cage, but despite my efforts, I wasn’t sure any oxygen reached my brain.

  A small children’s choir stepped forward, and their high sweet voices began to sing. With courage I didn’t feel, I peeked up at Porter. He stared down at me, but what he was thinking was anyone’s guess.

  “You showed up,” I whispered.

  “So did you,” he breathed back.

  Why was he here? I needed to know.

  “Did you lose the memo?”

  “What memo was that?”

  “The one that said, if we failed to plan a breakup, you were the one who needed to leave me at the altar.”

  “It went against my policy of always having your back.”

  What did that mean?

  “So does that mean you’re not going to leave me at the altar?”

  He regarded me with a mild expression and shrugged. “Nope.”

  I nodded and stared, unseeing, as the choir finished its song. I didn't know how to respond. Was this some a joke to him? Did he not grasp the fact that we were standing at the altar about to be married?

  The minister announced a congregational hymn. The organ started, and eight hundred people stood behind us. Questions spun my mind in a hundred different directions. We were here. About to get married, but that still didn’t mean he wanted to marry me. And that fact was killing me. We listened to people sing behind us. I worked to gather my scattered thoughts.

  I pinched my lips together, “Do you think we should talk about this?”

  “I wanted to earlier, but you took off.”

  “I was pissed.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “You want to have the talk right now?”

  “Do you have a better time?”

  The minister cleared his throat and chastised us with a pointed look.

  My wedding, I can talk if I want to!

  But we fell silent and watched as a soloist made her way to the front.

  She started singing Ava Marie. I started to get pissed.

  “We’re about to get married,” I reminded him.

  “You’re free to walk.”

  His casual tone frustrated me.

  “Why do I have to walk? My mom would kill me.”

  “Well, my parents are here now, too.”

  “So?”

  “If my folks are here, I can’t leave you unmarried at this alter.”

  “But if you stay, that means we’re getting married.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I can’t do it.”

  The last chords of the harp sounded.

  “That’s a terrible reason to get married.”

  “If you don’t want this to happen, you’re free to leave,” he offered.

  “Do you want to marry me?”

  “I’m not opposed to the idea.”

  My gaze snapped up to him, too shocked to speak.

  His shrug was unapologetic. “We get along.”

  And there it was. The most unromantic thing anyone has ever said to me. If I wasn’t so pissed, I’d be crushed.

  “We get along?” I hissed. “That’s what you have to say?”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  Again with the out of body experience. Without remembering moving, I found myself walking to the side of the church. Loud whispers of hundreds of people ricocheted off the stone walls.

  Porter caught up with me. He pulled me behind a huge planter of flowers, away from prying eyes.

  “You’re leaving?” His grey eyes flashed with intensity.

  I blinked up at him, finally allowing myself to ask the question I really wanted to ask. “What are we doing?”

  “Would it be so bad?”

  No, it’d be fucking great. But only if he actually wanted to marry me.

  “Are you asking me to marry you?!”

  His eyes never left my face. “I’m shit at this kind of stuff. This isn’t how I wanted to do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “Ask you if you’d be interested in not canceling our wedding.”

  My mouth dropped, as shock rippled through my body. “You want to marry me?”

  “I don’t not want to marry you.”

  “Why are you suddenly using double negatives?”

  He ran both his hands through his hair. “I can’t imagine not doing this.”

  Disbelief, shock, and joy washed through me, but mostly joy. “That’s still a double negative.”

  His lips twitched in amusement, “When did you become the grammar police?”

  “Semantics matter.”

  “Fine. Beth Stirling. I feel things for you that I’ve never felt before.”

  “Why didn’t you say something earlier?” I half-whispered, half-wailed.

  “I wanted to.”

  “But?”

  “I wasn’t sure what you’d say.”

  Disbelief. “You thought I’d say no?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Our eyes locked. “Is this real?”

  “I’m the one who told Roo to invite my parents,” he added.

  “What!?”

  “But I didn’t think they’d show. There’s a whole lot of stuff there that I need to tell you.”

  “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

  “Because you’re the only thing in this world that scares me.”

  “I’m in love with you,” I whisper-shouted, “So stupidly in love with you, I can’t even take it.”

  He crushed me into his arms, and his kiss was so passionate, so intense, I swooned. He lifted his head. “Is that a yes?”

  “Yes, I want to marry you.”

  “You look hot as fuck in that wedding dress.”

  “You should see the negligee Roo forced me to buy.”

  He groaned and kissed me again. “Sorry for the shit proposal.”

  Porter wanted to marry me!

  My arms clung to his neck. “It kind of suits how we came together.”

  Determination crossed his face. “Let’s get this show on the road. I want to make you mine.”

  “Stay bossy,” I instructed.

  “Oh, I plan on it.”

  When we reappeared, the entire congregation clapped.

  Porter led me to the front. We exchanged goofy smiles, and the minister asked with a dry tone. “Are you two ready?”

  Porter didn’t look away from my face. He looked so damn happy. “We’re ready.”

  Chapter 53

  In front of eight hundred people, we stood at the front of that massive church, to come together as man and wife. Porter listened to the minister’s message with serious intent. I didn’t hear a word the man said. I was too busy trying to wrap my mind around the fact that Porter wanted to marry me.

  Not out of obligation.

  Not because he felt trapped.

  The man said it himself.

  He felt things for me he never felt before.

  Porter was becoming my husband. And I was becoming his wife.

  I still had a lot of questions. But they were good questions, and I wanted to savor his answers. Like what moment had he realized that he loved me? When exactly did he know he wanted to marry me? But all that could wait. His famil
y. His history, all of that, would eventually be shared.

  What I did know was that I loved him. With all my heart.

  I let out a happy sigh, when the minister said, “Time for your vows.”

  A considerable bang sounded at the back of the church.

  “This wedding can’t happen!” Yates stalked up the aisle.

  What the living hell?

  Porter turned with a growl, his entire body stiffening. Too stunned to do much else, I watched Yates’ approach.

  “What might your reason be?” the minister’s voice called out.

  Yates cleared his throat. “I know this isn’t a real marriage. This whole thing is a fraudulent plot to promote Mr. Stirling’s political campaign.”

  The entire church gasped. My eyes swept over the blurry faces of the congregation. My body tipped against Porter’s hard frame. I put my hand on his arm. He hadn’t moved a muscle. I glanced at him. His jaw was so tight, his neck corded.

  Yates continued, “I have evidence that proves Beth’s father paid Porter to be part of her life, to marry her for his campaign. This wedding is a sham.”

  It kind of felt like I was under water. Without oxygen. Struggling to breathe. My eyes flew to my father. His expression was a mask of guilt. Roo sat collapsed on the pew with Mom bent over him.

  I glanced up. Grey eyes held mine. I couldn’t read his expression.

  “Tell me this isn’t true, Porter,” I whispered.

  Why was there so much regret in his eyes?

  “I can’t.”

  I swallowed, and my ribs expanded and contracted as each shallow breath rushed through my body. “This was your secret? My father paid you?”

  “At first. But then things changed.”

  I took a few steps away from him in complete disbelief. This was not happening to me. Not to me. My mind tried to process what was going on. “My father paid you? To love me?”

  “Beth…” Pain painted his features. “It’s complicated.”

  I couldn’t even process this. “So this is a big joke? I’ve been set up by another one of my father’s elaborate plans?”

  “No. I really love you.”

  I wasn’t a violent person, but suddenly I was hitting Porter with my bouquet. Pink and white flowers exploded between us. He didn’t even move. He took every single blow.

  I realized I was crying. Hard. Everything ran. Tears. Snot. Make-up. I couldn’t catch my breath. As far as ugly cries went, this one was epic. My bouquet was now nothing but stems and a ribbon. I tossed it aside. Emily put her arms around me.

  I glared at him and managed to say, “I trusted you.”

  He swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

  I shook my head, and then I was running down the aisle.

  Chapter 54

  I stood in the bride’s room at the back, my chest heaving.

  Emily stood beside me. “Oh my goodness.”

  I paced the length of the room. “My dad paid Porter.”

  Bewilderment traced her voice. “How did he even know Porter?”

  I tried to think of our beginning. “When I was arrested, what did Jackson do?”

  “I called my lawyer. Jackson called Porter.”

  The door opened, and Dad stepped in. “Beth, please. Let me explain.”

  Rage nearly blinded me. “When are you going to stop meddling in my life?”

  “I thought I did what was best for you.”

  “Best for me.” I stopped in my tracks. “You thought that paying someone to love me was the best thing for me? Everything about you is about control. This is my life. My happiness!”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “When did you met him?”

  “Beth, listen to me.”

  “WHEN DID YOU MEET PORTER?!”

  “The night you brought him to Bayswater for dinner.”

  I covered my face with my hands. “You took him for an after-dinner drink.”

  “Yes. I used that chance to talk to him.”

  That night on the balcony of Bayswater. I tried to remember what Porter had said to me. He’d asked me what I wanted, and I told him I wanted space from Yates. And to pretend that we were dating.

  “How much did you pay him?”

  “Is that important?”

  “How much am I worth? Tell me how much your daughter’s happiness is worth.”

  “Five hundred thousand.”

  That sucker punched me. “You paid him half a million dollars to what? To date me? To marry me? Sleep with me?”

  “He gave me the money back.”

  “I don’t care,” I cried.

  “Please let me explain.”

  “How can I believe anything that comes out of your mouth?”

  The door burst open, and Yates stood with a pleased expression on his stupid face. “Beth.”

  “Get out,” I gritted at him.

  “I love you. I want to marry you. We can still do this. Today.”

  “That’s enough,” Dad yelled at him. “Get out of here!”

  Yates waltzed up to Dad and pointed his finger in his face. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I’m basically your slave. You have no idea what I did for you. You don’t appreciate me.”

  “You were in on this too?” I asked in disbelief.

  “No,” they both said at the same time.

  “I would never hurt you, never betray you the way these two men did,” Yates boasted.

  My dad punched Yates in the chin. As far as punches went, it wasn’t very effective, but Yates still crumpled to his knees.

  My dad seethed. “Yates, my daughter doesn’t want to have anything to do with you. Neither do I. You need to leave.”

  The door flew open, and Porter wrestled with two of his brothers. They fought him, but he was a crazy person, trying to get into the room.

  “I’m going to kill him,” he grunted. “Give me five seconds.”

  Yates crab crawled backwards across the floor. “Don’t let him near me.”

  Miles, or maybe it was Calvin, shouted over his shoulder. “Can we get some help here?”

  Emily pressed against the wall beside me. Our eyes met. Jackson stepped into the mess and put his arm around Porter's neck. It was a cross between a hug and a choke hold. He spoke to Porter, but no one could hear what he said.

  “Fine,” Porter ground out, “Get off me.”

  Jackson turned and spoke to his brothers, “Let him go.”

  With extremely reluctance, they let go of Porter, who straightened. For the first time in my life, I saw fear on his face. Grey stormy eyes found mine. “Beth, I need you to listen to me.”

  “I think I’ve heard enough of your lies,” I shot back.

  “You really should hear him out. This is all my fault,” Dad added.

  “Be quiet. Just stop. I can’t take any of this anymore.”

  “What is going on here?” Detective Christensen appeared in the doorway, surveying the scene.

  “Nothing,” four of us said at once.

  Two officers crowded the room.

  “Michael Renner woke up,” she said. “And he told me what happened last night. Yates Bennet, you’re under arrest for the attempted murder of Michael Renner. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning.”

  In shock, we stood and watched as the officers hauled Yates to his feet and handcuffed him behind his back.

  “This is a mistake,” Yates yelled. “I didn’t do anything.”

  Dad stepped forward. “Yates! Shut up. Don’t say a word until your lawyer is present.”

  “This isn’t my fault,” he begged, looking at me. “Beth. You have to save me. Please. Tell them we were together last night. Tell them the truth.”

  I remained silent and watched as Yates was half-carried, half-dragged out of the room. “Everyone get out,” I said, my voice low.

  The men a
ssessed me. Jackson. Porter. My father. The brothers.

  Emily spoke this time, her voice ringing clear and fierce. “You heard her. All of you need to clear out of this room right now.”

  Chapter 55

  At the doorway of the penthouse, I grabbed Emily’s arm. “Is he gone?”

  “He did what you asked, and he left.”

  Knowing Porter wasn’t here, made my heart ache. At the church, Emily had gone into a mode I’d never seen before. She placed Jackson and my security team at the doorway of the bridal suite and banned anyone else from coming in.

  She sat beside me on the floor and held me while I wept. When I could no longer cry, she helped me get out of my dress. I wanted to talk. I wanted to tell her that my heart was breaking. I wanted to get angry and throw things and curse his name. I wanted to beg her, ask her how I could possibly live the rest of my life without him in it.

  But the words remained stuck inside of me. For the life of me, I couldn’t speak. So, I sat on the chair like a statue and watched as she pulled every pin out of my hair and brushed my hair out. I lifted my face to hers as she used a warm facecloth to wash my face. I sipped the glass of scotch she'd placed in my hand, unable to help as she packed up the room.

  At my request, she’d sought out Porter and told him I needed space. She told him to leave the penthouse. Apparently, he had obeyed. Now, we stood in the penthouse, alone.

  “Do you want something to eat?”.

  “Not really.” This place felt so empty, so quiet without Porter. “Where are Jackson and Theo?”

  “I sent them to a hotel.”

  “Emily.” Her kindness would be my undoing.

  “I’m going to order Thai food. You don’t have to eat, but I’m starving.”

  I ate the Thai food. We sat at the big island in the kitchen and ate in silence. Yet another reason I loved Emily. Anyone else would talk or try to make me feel better or ask too many damn questions. Not Emily. She quietly sat with me.

  “You’d be good at a wake.”

  “Awake?”

  “No, a wake. Two words. Like when the family sits around the coffin and holds a vigil for the person who has died?”

  “Oh, a wake. Why?”

  “Because you’re so comfortable being quiet.”

  “This is your time.”