by Keta Kendric
She shook her head with a pitying smile on her face, not really wanting my answer. “There is shit you take to the grave, and your affair should have gone six feet under like a dead-ass stinking body.”
Mecca spoke her mind. I could tell as much from the moment she strolled into the hall and introduced herself like she was already a member of the family.
“This shit is supposed to be a woman’s happiest day, but it feels like I’m at a fucking funeral. I hate seeing my cousin this damn sad. I’m sitting her smiling for her. See, this is why you never let feelings get involved in this kind of shit. Reap the benefits of this chaos we breathe and live your best life.”
She was giving me a good tongue lashing and pep talk at the same time. I appreciated her candor because she reminded me of my brother, in female form. She continued with her relationship advice, making me smile for the first time in days.
She tapped my arm. “I’m telling you now, future husband, I want it all: the power, houses, cars, clothes. You’re not the stingy type are you?”
A chuckle escaped. Mecca was a breath of fresh air in this suffocating mess I had helped to create. While my brother wanted to kill Desiree and me, she had brushed off our affair as something we should have kept to ourselves. She wasn’t hurt by our betrayal.
“No. I’m not the stingy type,” I finally answered. “I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you have what you need or want, even your own personal sex warrior,” I added.
She pinched me in the shoulder playfully. “That’s what I’m talking about. I love the way you think, Khane. Now, I know whose eyes were on us at that restaurant. You keep hanging around with me, and you are going to be over that broken heart before you know it,” she continued.
There was nothing in the world that would mend my heart, except Desiree.
“Arjen Vallin, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” I believe it was the third time the pastor had asked him the question. “Mr. Vallin?”
Mecca’s small shoulder was shoved into my arm again.
“What the hell is your brother doing?” she questioned, causing my heavy gaze to shoot up to the stage.
Arjen lifted a hand, pausing the pastor’s words and causing the room to grow eerily silent. “Will you give me a moment please?” he asked the pastor.
“What the hell?” Mecca glared at me for an answer like I could read my brother’s mind.
Arjen stepped away from Desiree and marched down the stage’s three steps to reach the floor level. My face grew tighter with each step he took in my direction, closing the distance. I peered up at him, dumbfounded, when he stood over me, his gaze heavy enough to weigh me down.
Mecca’s hand tapped incessantly against my forearm, but her face was aimed angrily at Arjen’s. Was he about to call Desiree and me out to the wedding guests? Most were members of the syndicate.
This wasn’t Arjen’s way. He was the one more suited to woo a crowd. He knew how to be political when necessary. Reluctantly, I took his hand when he reached out for mine. His firm grip captured my forearm and pulled until I stood.
The crowd gawked. Every eye was on us, necks stretching to get a better view as low murmurs made their way around the room.
“Follow me,” Arjen ordered. Reluctance caused me to take cautious steps. I was not going to help him embarrass Desiree if that was his aim. I would drag him off the stage before I allowed him to hurt her any more than she already was.
Once on stage, he stood me next to him as he faced Desiree. Was he taking me back as his best man? Was this his way of saying he’d forgiven us or his way of punishing us more? My eyes dropped away from Desiree’s as I stood in place next to him. Arjen gave the pastor a nod to continue with the ceremony without saying a word to the confused crowd.
“Do you, Arjen Vallin, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the pastor asked again. The thick silence of the crowd highlighted the anticipation in the room and sent mine soaring through the roof.
“I can’t marry this woman,” Arjen stated. Gasps were set off like a bunch of hissing bombs as awed faces stared frozen and mouths gaped. Hands went over chests and mouths, and women clutched their diamonds and pearls. Mecca was making her way to the stage, and her tight expression revealed that she was pissed about my brother’s actions.
“Pastor, I can’t marry this woman because I’ve realized that I love someone else more than I care about her.”
Open-mouthed stares along with wide eyes, sat in dead silence. This was probably the most drama the older people in the crowd had seen in years as a few fanned their faces. My brother’s voice was what broke through the deafening silence.
“This person I love. I care about their feelings more than my own. Therefore, Pastor, I can’t marry this beautiful woman because I can’t bear breaking my brother’s heart.”
Unable to move, talk, or blink, I stood, staring at Arjen as he attempted to move me. I had gone rigid and was rooted in place with him tugging but unable to shift me. Mecca had stopped at the steps, glaring up at the three of us, confusion a veil over her face.
Once Arjen had me facing Desiree, my eyes found hers, and my tension melted away. “Pastor, if you could start the ceremony over. I would like to give this man to this woman,” Arjen stated, taking the role that a father would when he gave away his daughter, but in reverse.
The crowd was in such awe over the scene unfolding in front of them it appeared they were viewing a movie that was at the most exciting part. Eyes locked, bodies leaning forward, ears perked.
Tears dripped down Desiree’s cheeks, joy filling her eyes instead of the endless pits of sadness that I had seen in them moments ago. When Arjen tried to step away, I gripped his arm. I didn’t care that we were holding up the crowd or the pastor or that we were in the middle of a wedding ceremony.
“Thank you,” I stated. “What about the syndicate?” I whispered.
“Let me worry about them.”
Other than Desiree, Arjen was the only person who cared enough to acknowledge I even had feelings. I slung my arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug that he returned with strength.
When we came apart, he stared at me for a paused moment with a big crooked smile on his face. I had hurt him worse than anyone, and he had found a way to forgive me. He had also given me the greatest gift I could ask for. I knew with all certainty that nothing I could receive would ever be better than Desiree.
“Be happy, little brother,” he whispered before he reached, tousled my hair playfully, and punched me in the shoulder before stepping aside. He remained in place behind me, standing with me as I turned and faced Desiree.
From the moment I took Desiree’s hands, I didn’t see anything else but her as the pastor quoted the words that would bind us together forever.
“Will you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I will,” Desiree stated, the big smile on her lips shine through her tearstained eyes as she squeezed my hands.
I attempted but failed to shake off the impact of hearing her declare that she was willing to accept me. Desiree was the only one that knew the true depth of my connection to her. The notion that she wanted me as her husband, despite the insanity embedded in our past, sent a shot of contentment racing through me so strong, it threatened to buckle my knees and caused Arjen to grip my arm when he saw me sway. He kept a tight grip on me until he was sure I would be okay.
After a moment, I focused on her. My greatest weakness. My greatest joy. The greatest of anything that could ever happen to me. The most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She had also filled me with a debilitating level of chaos that made me lose control of my known self and embrace who I had wanted to be for her.
“Will you take this woman to be—”
“Yes. I will,” I answered, not allowing the pastor to finish the sentence. The quick response received a low chorus of laughter from the crowd that I had forgotten were there.
For a while, I didn�
�t hear anything else until the words, “You may kiss your bride,” at which point, Desiree was on her toes, and I bent to meet her. Our lips connected, and a piece of heaven fell into my heart. If I were dreaming, it was the best I’d ever had, and I prayed that it would never end.
Had I just married the woman of my dreams?
40
Arjen
I approached the woman who had been sitting next to Khane: Mecca Evans. She was staring at Desiree and Khane, who were shaking hands and receiving congratulations from the guests. Instead of being bitter that her groom-to-be had married her cousin, she beamed with pride at the sight of them.
Her head turned in time to catch me making my approach. She was pleasingly attractive. There was a purity about her, the perfect amount of goodness to hide the hell cat peeking through her sultry eyes.
She was darker than Desiree, her skin like expensive well-aged scotch. I could tell at a glance that Mecca was the kind of woman that went down like silk and came up like an explosion of razor blades. Maybe it was the determined set in her stance and the confidence in her unbending gaze that suggested that she was not a gentle soul.
“Arjen,” I greeted, reaching out my hand. She took it with a delicate caress I hadn’t expected.
“Mecca.”
Hearing her voice made me smile. It was sweet and delicate like her unexpected touch.
“Mecca, like Islam’s holiest city?” I asked.
A smirk she tried to keep off her lush lips surfaced. “Yes, but unlike the city, I can’t claim the holy title.”
I chuckled, shaking my head at her before I allowed my gaze to fall over her, taking her in fully. Pure trouble is what I saw. And I couldn’t forget that she had found Desiree’s car when we couldn’t, or that she was running the Black Saints, a criminal organization that was a big enough force that the syndicate had pulled them under their umbrella.
I remained beside her, silently assessing my brother with Desiree. Mecca had given me a quick once over before she appeared to lose interest. Why the heck did her quick dismissal bother me?
Used to women falling at my feet, it was a bit unsettling to find another that wasn’t affected by my attention. I brushed the small sting off my shoulders and allowed the sight of Khane and Desiree to recapture my focus. How could I not want my brother to be this happy?
Seeing him with a smile on his face was a gift. I often stressed about his mental health because of his loner behavior and the disturbing stories the men would report back to me about his ruthless fascination with death.
Did Desiree know that she had become one of the most powerful Vallins in our family? She had found a way to tame Khane. Tame only for her, but tamed just the same. There was real love between them, which meant that she had control over one of the most formidable men I knew. She reigned over a human weapon capable of destroying whole countries, and based on the way she looked at him, I seriously doubted she knew it. She looked at him like he was the center of her universe, an endearment I never imagined would be cast on either of us.
“Story of my life,” Mecca said. She had finally allowed disappointment to be expressed on her face after turning away from the couple. Mecca didn’t have the delicate rose vibe that Desiree possessed that hypnotized men.
However, the Evans’ genes must have been blessed by the gods of perpetual beauty. I didn’t realize it until I was up close that she possessed a dark, angelic quality that captured my focus so exclusively that everything else in the room blurred into the background each time I glanced into her eyes. Mecca wasn’t overtly sexy, flashing body parts or sporting heavy make-up. She was a subdued sexy, like she worked to contain it.
“You can wipe that look of disappointment off your beautiful face.” The comment drew her attention. “The way I see it, you’re getting the best part of this whole deal.”
Skepticism lingered in her pinched brows. “And what deal is that?” she questioned, as one of her neatly arched brows lifted, waiting for my answer as her metallic gold claw-like nails tapped against her satiny arm.
“Me. I’m the deal,” I stated. “Since my ex-fiancée is in love with and has married my brother, it appears it will be you and me tying the knot.”
She stared me directly in the eyes, and laughed. It was a pitying chuckle low enough that it didn’t call attention to us, but the action had knocked my ego to the floor. I was so thrown off by her reaction, I stood in place with my face pinched in confusion.
“Is that what you believe? That I’m getting the best deal?” She stepped closer, closing the space between us and making sure I saw into her big and bold brown eyes. “Don’t get it twisted. The way I see it, you’re the lucky one.”
A wide grin lit her face, filling it with that overlapping heavenly quality that turned her sexy into beauty. She folded her arms over her tempting chest, shaking her head. “You’re the one that almost missed out on the best thing you didn’t even know you needed,” she added.
A deep smile touched my lips. I may not have been getting the woman I had picked, but with Mecca, I sensed that some level of hell was going to get raised to earth’s surface.
“Are you ready?” I asked her.
“Ready for what?” Her gaze raked me from top to bottom twice before locking with mine.
“Why do you think the pastor is still standing up there?” I questioned, pointing at him on stage, talking to a few of the guests in attendance. I contemplated changing my mind about marriage altogether, but marrying a woman I didn’t care about would make my life easier. The fact that she held the keys to the Evans’ kingdom was an added bonus.
Her neck jerked back when she spotted the pastor. The side-eye glance she cast my way should have been trademarked. The pretty, pinched lips, the cute flare of her nostrils, the thousand-yard stare. She was about to read me the riot act. That I already knew this about her personality was kind of refreshing.
“Hell, no!” she stretched the two words out. “I want my own shit. I’m already feeling salty about being your second choice. Do you honestly think I’m settling for a second-hand wedding too? It’s tacky as fuck. No! Just no!” She did have a point, now that I thought about it.
“You must be smoking bad crack if you think I’m getting married in an off-the-rack pantsuit I bought on sale. If we do this, I want an overpriced dress and cake, a bunch of stuck-up guests that I don’t know, a bigger venue, expensive food and drinks, and a rock on my finger that costs enough to break one of your bank accounts.”
My hardy laugh escaped, especially when I realized she was serious. I didn’t argue with her logic. If you had to marry for reasons other than love, you may as well get what you wanted.
“Laugh all you want, future husband,” she warned, her gaze locked on mine, strong and sure. “I don’t intend to be second in your life, but this one time. If I didn’t love my cousin as much as I do, your brother would be standing his ass right here with me, hearing the same speech.”
I laughed, full-on, shoulder-shaking, and gut-tickling mirth. What made the situation all the funnier was the seriousness in her expression. Funny or not, she meant every word she spoke. I also noticed she had stated it all without raising her voice. Her easygoing tone didn’t take away from the impact of her words.
“Understood,” I finally replied. She stepped away to greet Desiree as I made my way to the stage to tell the pastor that we wouldn’t be needing his services until a later date.
Khane met me at the foot of the steps, giving me another hug before whispering another sincere, “Thank you,” in my ear. His eyes shined with genuine happiness, the sight making my heart swell.
Seeing my brother glowing with happiness filled me with a joy I had never experienced before. He appeared to be an entirely different person, like a part of his spirit had been returned to him—the part our father had stripped away from him fifteen years ago when he took his eye.
The sight of Khane with Desiree reminded me of the devastating mistake I had almost made. She truly mad
e him happy, and thankfully, I had been able to let go of my ego and anger long enough to realize it.
He and Desiree continued to receive congratulations and clung to each other’s hands like they never wanted to be separated. A laugh escaped when a man congratulating them went to put a hand on Desiree’s waist, and Khane knocked it away without calling attention to Desiree or the man’s wife.
Anyone crazy enough to ever lay a hand on Desiree was dead. I had phoned Angel Ramirez twice already, checking to see if he was still breathing.
Initially, I had assumed Desiree was playing a game with Khane because she was upset about the arrangement she had been dragged into, but the sight of them together dashed away my last shred of doubt.
“I’ll admit, fire raced through my veins when I thought you were about to embarrass my cousin on that stage, but I believe you made the right decision with those two.”
The delicate tone of her voice didn’t match the tough personality she’d allowed me to take a peek at earlier. Mecca had a quiet ease about her that didn’t match how hellish I sensed she could be.
“Did I? Make the right decision?” I asked, eyeing her with suspicion.
“Look at them. There’s enough happiness flowing off them to strangle and kill everyone in this building. They are actually in love with each other. The fact that I can see it, sense it even, is astonishing.” She appeared as awed by the notion as I was. “I can also rest assure that if anyone tries to come for my cousin, he’s going to gift them with a toe-tag.”
She released a low whistle, glaring at them with a pitying expression now. “I’m happy for them, but that is one devastating emotion I’m glad to be immune to.”
