Fell For My Ex's Brother In Law After Jail

#Chapter 6: The First Confrontation

"Be your date?" I'm so shocked that I nearly drop the bowl in my hand. "You've got to be kidding me – the wedding is this weekend. How does the Alpha's son not have a date for his sister's wedding by now?"

Marcus laughs aloud. It's a gorgeous sound, thick and syrupy, like rich honey. I could drink that laugh; I could pour it into my bedtime tea and let it warm me from the inside out. His laugh is as comforting as his smile, and I wish I could catch it in my hands and keep it.

He shakes his head as he dries his hands on a dish towel, the dishes finally done. 

"My standards are far too high," he jokes, winking at me yet again. 

My god, I never thought that a man's wink could leave my knees feeling like jelly. In fact, if you'd asked me yesterday, I'd say that winking was cheesy as hell. From Marcus, though, it comes across as the sexiest form of subtle flirting.

Still, I don't answer right away. Marcus has money and status, and that's enough to drive any woman crazy. However, I don't care about any of that. All I care about is revenge – I think. Something in Marcus's smile makes me briefly reconsider what it is that I actually want.

Maybe I could seduce him? That would be the best revenge, perhaps. Becki would be furious, if nothing else.

But no. The old Nicole would've done that, used some guy for his status and hidden behind him, letting his mere presence in her life be the revenge that got under everyone else's skin. Not anymore.

The new Nicole wants to stand on her own two feet, for one thing. For another, I don't want to hurt anybody. Certainly not somebody as kind, as funny and warm, as Marcus.

"Okay," I say. "I'll be your date for the wedding."

Marcus's grin could light up the whole room. 

"It's a deal," he says, reaching out to shake my hand.

Marcus picks me up in a limo on the day of the wedding. He's dressed in a cream white suit that sets off his dark skin to perfection, with a waistcoat and pocket square that match the blue of his eyes. He looks good enough to eat.

I'm wearing the one nice dress I've ever owned, a Prada evening gown that Darlene was forced to buy for me several years ago for an event that she couldn't get out of leaving me at home for.

I'm lucky that it still fits, and that Darlene had apparently forgotten that it exists, because it had still been in the back of my closet when I got out of prison. If Darlene remembered it was down there, it would've been long gone, probably the day after the prison bars slammed behind me for good.

It's a truly gorgeous gown, though: deep, velvety green that offsets my pale skin and dark hair. It's off the shoulder, with a full waist that drapes elegantly to the floor. I paired it with my mother's pearls, a short strand of silky gems around my throat and dangling from my ears.

I feel like a princess.

Marcus seems to like my outfit, too, because his smile widens as I'm helped into the car. 

"You look divine," he murmurs into my ear. I blush, and he hands me a glass of champagne.

"To fairytales," he says. I clink my glass against his. 

"To fairytales."

When we arrive at The Plaza, the most exclusive and expensive wedding venue in New York City, Marcus escorts me inside and finds me another glass of champagne before whispering an apology and loping off to greet a bunch of businessmen in suits.

Well, that's to be expected, I reason. This isn't just a wedding; it's a networking affair. I sip my champagne and gaze at the setting around me, completely in awe. Everything is draped in gold, pearl, and lace. It's like being inside Cinderella's palace.

It's the wedding of my dreams, but I'm no longer the bride. No, this isn't a dream, not for me. It's a graveyard, the death of all my hopes and ambitions. Feeling a bit queasy, I sip on my champagne to try to settle my stomach.

"What. The. f**k are you doing here?" a voice hisses behind me in fury. I whirl around to find Darlene glaring at me, her hand clenching my upper arm hard enough to hurt. "How the hell did you get in here?" Becki walks up behind her mother, looking equally enraged. 

Shit. I should have remembered that my family was going to be here. At first, I'm scared. Darlene never swears, not like this, and certainly not in public. She always prides herself on being the gracious lady of society, not a feather out of place.

To have her claws digging red gouges in my arm, dragging me close enough that I can smell the sour reek of her breath, is terrifying. I feel like I'm eight years old again, small and powerless.

Wait, no. Darlene and Becki aren't my family, not anymore. I have just as much right to be here as they do. More, in fact. And I'm not a little girl anymore – they can't hurt me.

I stand up straighter, but before I can respond, Becki is screaming for security. I can see the panic in her eyes – she's worried I'm going to ruin everything for her. Well, she's right. And she deserves it.

A security officer approaches us, looking annoyed. 

"Miss, can you please lower your voice? People are staring. What on earth is the problem?"

"This woman has sneaked in," Becki declares dramatically, jabbing a pointy fingernail into my chest. "She's not on the invitation list. She's an ex-girlfriend of the groom; she's here to ruin the wedding."

"That's impossible, miss," the security guard says, shooting me an apologetic look. "We have incredibly strict protocols; everyone is vetted at the door. I'm going to need to ask you to calm down; you're causing a scene." 

Marcus suddenly appears next to me, looking irritated. Darlene abruptly lets go of my arm, and I rub the spot she was holding, coaxing feeling back into it.

"What's going on here?" he asks, glancing between us all. "Is there a problem?"

Becki immediately turns coy and sweet, actually twirling a strand of hair between her fingers. "Oh, Marcus," she simpers. "We haven't been introduced yet, but I'm Charles's sister. This is his ex-girlfriend; she's sneaked in here to try to ruin the wedding."

Marcus looks incredulous. "I've met Charles several times," he says. "He's never mentioned a sister. I'm sorry, who are you? Jim–" he turns to the security officer "Do we know who these people are, or why they're throwing a very loud fit in this very expensive lobby?"

Rage flashes across Becki's face, but she quickly gets her expression back under control. 

"I'm sorry, Marcus," she says. "I'm not trying to attract attention. I'm just so concerned about this gate-crasher, you see. This i***t–" she waves at Jim–"didn't do his job properly and let her in. He should be fired."

Marcus looks angry and starts to speak, but Becki barrels on.

"God knows what she said to him. She's completely unstable. We've had to talk about getting a restraining order. But I'm sure you'll protect me, now that you're here and I've helped you divert national embarrassment." 

She smiles sweetly at Marcus, batting her eyes. Darlene pats her arm, lifting her head proudly as she shoots me a triumphant little sneer. My stomach twists in anxiety – what if Marcus buys their story?

But Marcus shakes his head in disbelief, then moves to put a warm, strong arm around my waist. He tucks me protectively into his side and stares frostily at Becki and Darlene.

"I'm sorry, but are you talking about my date?"