Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25568 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25568 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
When my phone vibrated a few hours later, I saw that it was Gamer’s number on the screen. I shouldn’t have answered it, but deep down, I was hoping for a confrontation with him. I wanted to tell him to break it off with Emerson and let her be free, but instead, I got a new mess to deal with.
Apparently Conner wanted to spend his last night of freedom going balls out. Not only was he doing line after line while drinking, but the woman he brought to his room invited a few friends. When he passed out mid-orgy, she grabbed his phone and called the number marked Lawyer instead of the cops.
I called an ambulance, and by the time I got to his hotel room, the paramedics were there waking him up. He refused to go with them and called his dad, and that’s how I ended up here in this mess. Frank Merritt talked to the women before they left, and I’m sure each of them was paid handsomely for their silence.
Now Gamer is hungover as fuck and groaning on the couch next to us. He’s got a sheet around his waist and keeps dry heaving into a trash can.
“We’ve got to meet your mother downstairs,” Frank tells his son as a look of disgust passes over his face. “Clean yourself up. It’s your wedding day, for Christ's sake.”
The sounds of him berating his son are still going as I leave the hotel room. I have no sympathy for either of them, especially when this affects Emerson. I’ve stood by long enough, but I refuse to let her tie herself to this piece of shit.
Once I’m out of the room, I’m half running to the stairs when I come to a dead stop. The door to Emerson’s suite is open, and when I catch a glimpse of her, I almost fall to my knees.
She’s standing there in her wedding dress, looking like something out of my dreams. For a long moment, I wonder if I am dreaming. Then she turns in my direction, and our eyes lock.
“What are you doing? We need to go.” That’s when I see her mother behind her, practically shoving her out of the room. “Oh good, a bellhop. You, come take my bag.”
She holds it out to me, and I’m so shaken by the sight of Emerson in the dress that I take it. Emerson flushes with embarrassment as her eyes widen. She goes to say something to her mother, but I shake my head.
“Allow me.” I hold out my arm for Emerson, and she steps closer, sliding her hand through my elbow.
“Gideon,” she whispers so only I can hear.
“This dress is too much. I can hardly stand next to you. Take the elevator on your own. I’ve got to greet our guests. You’re to go to the bridal room and wait to be called.” She snaps her fingers at me. “See that she doesn’t fall on her face on the way there.”
Clearly her mother doesn’t remember that I’m the lawyer that did the prenup for Emerson, so I don’t bother correcting her. Instead, I watch her get on the open elevator and take it down alone. When she’s gone, I toss her bag in the garbage can next to us, and it makes Emerson laugh.
“I’m so sorry. I’d say she’s not usually like that, but it’s pretty standard.” Emerson looks up at me, her eyes filled with worry. “Where were you?”
“It’s a long story.” A second set of elevator doors opens, and I pull her on. “I’ll tell you later, but I need you to trust me, okay?”
“Of course.” There’s no hesitation as she moves closer and looks into my eyes. “I trust you.”
Without saying anything else, I push the button for one floor down and race to my room. I grab what I need off the table and then make it back to the elevator before it has a chance to close.
I pull her in my arms and bend down, kissing her with all the passion I feel. This is it, do or die, and I don’t know what’s coming next.
The elevator doors open, and we break the kiss, but I don’t let her go. Instead, I take her hand and lead her to the bridal room where she’s supposed to wait to be called like cattle at an auction.
“Gideon, what’s going—” Her words are cut off by me lifting her off the ground.
As soon as we’re inside, I kick the door closed and lock it tight. Then I toss the manilla folder I got from my room on the coffee table.
“I love you, Emerson,” I say, carrying her to the couch. “Don’t say it back, not now. But I need you to hear it from me before you make your decision.”