Page 7 of Not His Bride

“What was your favorite part?” I ask.

“The chandelier.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s everyone’s favorite part.”

“Because it’s the correct answer.”

“No. The graveyard is the correct answer.”

“The chandelier is better.”

“You’re wrong.”

“I own companies, Lilith. I’m rarely wrong.”

“You thought Debbie was responsible for the Maison Ziterweigen expansion ten minutes ago.”

Gallagher goes quiet. Pouncing on my prey, I smile sweetly. He presses his lips together, like that’ll somehow hide the fact that I got him.

“That was vicious.”

“I learned from Debbie.”

“No.” His eyes stay on mine. “I’m starting to think Debbie learned from you.”

The words catch me completely off guard. Heather’s voice comes through the silence. “Two minutes.”

The room goes quiet again, but it doesn’t feel the same as before.

Gallagher holds out his hand. I put mine in his.

His fingers close around mine. His palm is warm against mine, and I have to remind myself that in two minutes, this man is going to be my husband.

Before we reach the door, he looks at the little mask sticking halfway out of my clutch.

“We should go again.”

I stop. “To Phantom?”

“When it comes back.”

“You’re awfully confident it’ll come back.”

“Everything profitable comes back, eventually.”

Chapter 3

Lilith

The entrance is the part nobody rehearsed. There’s a pause for a moment before every single person stares at me from the rows of white chairs.

I breathe through my nose.

Petals lie on the runner already. My great uncle’s daughter is the flower girl. Every single one of them is fresh, with smooth edges, perfect for the photographer.

There’s a distant organ, low and stately, but even that can’t compete with the collective sound of hundreds of people’s held breaths.

I feel the silk gather at my ankles. Ivory, not white. My mother said it looked softer in this light, and I think she’s right. All that matters to me is looking gorgeous for Gallagher on our wedding day.