Chapter 40

“Okay,” Fiona says, studying me in the last dress. She holds up the beaded Oscar de la Renta that was our other top choice, an incredible off–white beaded silk that fell heavily to the floor and made a fantastic shushing sound as I walked.

“This one?” She indicates the Oscar, “or that?” She gestures towards the incredibly romantic Caroline Herrera dress that hugs my waist with a tight bodice, the off–shoulder sleeves flowing down in to the flowing charmeuse of the skirt, which sweeps behind me in a five–foot train.

“This one,” I say, a little breathless, staring at myself in the mirror. I had never really been the kind of girl who dreamed about her

wedding before, but in a dress like this? I am actually starting to

feel like a bride.

“Oh thank god,” Fiona says, wiping a tear from her eye. “That was my favorite too. If you’d picked the Oscar, you’d have broken my

heart.”

I laugh a little as she picks up her phone, texting someone. I

realize, suddenly, that she’s messaging Kent – telling him to come down for final approval.

When the door opens, I turn to face him, biting my lip, wondering, passively, if he’ll approve.

Chapter 40

He’s looking down at his phone as he walks into the room but,

across the room from us, he glances up.

in his tracks.

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of my belly. Does he not like it? Did I

right

his eyes slowly rove over my form. I turn to him, running my

own and his mouth slams shut. He takes a step forward, his

one step back-

animal, that of prey flinching back

Kent sees it, registers my fear, and wills himself back into

eyes flick to Fiona for a moment as he slowly

shoulders back, putting his hands into his pockets.

he studies me again. It’s a mask,

pretending to be the passive buyer

goods.

he’s the wolf, and

in some part of me,

then, trying

Chapter 40

so that my thighs

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legs, my thighs, and I see a muscle flicker

arms folded, her eyes flashing between

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