“In his eyes, your criminal background will negate any feelings of love you have for me. And in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t need a man to take care of me. I do a right nice job on my own.”
Bleu is strong but she needs my protection, even if she’s not yet willing to admit it. “I wish you’d at least think about telling him. I want to be the man you introduce to your family. Not the one you hide. I’d very much like to meet my father-in-law before the opportunity is gone forever.”
Her brow wrinkles. “Why?”
This is another thing Bleu doesn’t understand about The Fellowship. “Marrying you behind your father’s back without his permission feels like a betrayal against him. A brother wouldn’t dare marry a Fellowship daughter without her family’s approval.”
“Trust me. My father would feel betrayed if he found out about our marriage, but it wouldn’t be you he considered the traitor.”
And he won’t feel betrayed by Bleu, either—not when I finish explaining everything to him. I’ll tell Harold MacAllister my true intentions and how much I love his daughter.
Bleu will have her father’s approval before he dies. I will see to it.
Chapter Five
Bleu MacAllister
Oh my God. I’m getting married. In a courthouse. To a criminal. I’m literally going to stand in a building where defendants are prosecuted for their crimes and vow to love, honor, and cherish the future leader of a notorious criminal organization—the biggest one in Scotland.
Shit.
There’s no waiting period. All we need is the appropriate paperwork and we can become husband and wife as soon as we like.
Again, shit.
Am I seriously going to do this? Become Sinclair Breckenridge’s wife? The spouse of The Fellowship’s next leader?
I look at myself in the full-length mirror as I stand on the platform at the bridal shop and can only come up with one answer: Yes.
“Honey, you look beautiful. This shade of ivory is gorgeous against your skin tone,” my sales associate, Wendy, says.
I went into the bridal shop determined. I didn’t want a traditional wedding gown—wouldn’t even consider looking at a long white beaded gown with a train. To do so would be silly. I won’t be walking down an aisle or saying my vows in a church. My family won’t be present—or even privy to what’s going on. I’m neither proud nor happy about that.
I spin and look at myself in the mirror. The dress is knee length with an ivory lace overlay. It’s strapless—and A-line—with a wide champagne satin sash at the waist. It’s not bridal looking; I think it’s likely a cocktail dress.
There’s no way Ellison would approve. She’d have me in a sparkling white ball gown with a train as long as the room. I’d look like Princess Diana when she was finished with me. We’d never agree on a dress. But I wish she were here arguing with me.
“I really like this dress but do I look like a bride?” I’m having trouble seeing myself wearing this when I say “I do.”
“Of course you look like a bride,” Wendy squeals and holds up her index finger. “You just need to see the final product to be certain.”
She spins me around so I can’t see my reflection and begins the process of pulling my hair up and blinging me out with sparkly jewelry.
She places an artificial bouquet in my hands and tells me to close my eyes before spinning around to see my reflection. “Take a look.”
I stare at the stranger in the mirror. I’m almost breathless, but not because of the image I see looking back at me. It’s because there’s no doubt remaining in my mind. I am a real bride—Sinclair Breckenridge’s.
She grins when she sees the awe on my face. “What do you think now, honey? Feel like a bride?”
I reach up to touch the side bun and floral hairpiece Wendy pinned in my hair. I’m sold. “I do.”
“You should. When is your wedding?”
“Friday.”
Her eyes grow large. “Honey! That’s only two days away. Why have you waited until the last minute to get your dress?”
“We just decided yesterday.” Or last night. Actually, it was twelve hours ago if we’re being technical. “We decided to elope.”
I’m sure she suspects pregnancy is behind the mad rush since it isn’t possible for her to guess the truth—that I’m in a hurry to marry the handsome Scotsman in the lobby so we can stop his psychopathic uncle from annihilating me.
It’s true. I’m doing this to save my hide but that isn’t the only reason I said yes. I love Sinclair Breckenridge with all my heart and soul. I would’ve agreed to marry him even if Abram’s men weren’t coming for me.
Wendy tugs at the dress hem, smoothing it. “This is a perfect fit for you. That’s a good thing since it couldn’t possibly be altered in time for your wedding.” She stands back and studies me. “I think you should carry a bouquet of off-white, soft peach, and pale lavender. It may sound unusual but it would be lovely with this shade of ivory.”
I guess she would know. I certainly don’t. I was never that girl who sat around studying bridal magazines while dreaming of a magical wedding to a white knight. It’s a good thing since I’m marrying a charming villain instead of Prince Charming.
I make my final purchases and find Sin sitting on a sofa in the shop’s front parlor. He doesn’t see me so I stop to watch him as he looks through a bridal magazine. I guess there’s not much choice of reading material in a place like this but it’s still not something one would expect out of a Fellowship leader.
He catches me and tosses the magazine onto the coffee table. “Find everything you were looking for?”
I hold up the wardrobe bag. “I’m all set.”
“Am I allowed to see your dress?”
We’re not having a traditional wedding with friends or family but I’d like to stick to some form of tradition. “You’ll see it on Friday.”
“Fair enough.” My favorite dimple makes its appearance. “So we have two more stops to make today?”
“Actually, three.”
“Your flowers. My ring.” He lifts his brows and tilts his head. He does that when asking me a question without saying a word. I love our nonverbal communication, particularly the kind we use behind closed doors.
I clear my voice. “Undergarments and wedding night attire, Breck.”