Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
I shake my head again, sliding off the bed. “Nope, but hold that thought. It’ll be useful later tonight.” I head to the bathroom and take a towel from the rack. Wetting it with warm water, I return to her, and kneeling beside the bed, I open her thighs and clean her gently.
She watches me, her eyes softening, love radiating from her like a glow. “You take such good care of me, baby,” she whispers, her voice thick.
I lean in, and she pulls me into a kiss, long and deep, her lips warm, tasting of champagne. Her tongue dances with mine, slow, intimate, and I’m drowning in her, my hands cupping her face, but I pull back reluctantly.
“Come on,” I urge gently. “Let’s get you back to your adoring fans.”
She sighs, but nods.
We dress quickly. She slips back into the emerald dress, the silk gliding over her curves. Then she turns to me, puts her hand in mine, fingers lacing tight, and we head to the door. The elevator ride is quiet because I cannot stop staring at her. I still can’t believe that she is mine. Then we step back into the ballroom, and her drawings seem to glow on the walls. A testament to her brilliance. I watch as the crowd’s buzz wraps around, her carrying her away from me.
God, she’s beautiful.
Amelia
One Year Later.
The veil is a soft whisper against my cheeks, its delicate lace catching the golden light of the setting sun as I stand at the edge of the aisle. Max’s mom, Ellen, is beside me, her hands gripping mine, her eyes glistening with tears. Her graying hair is swept up, and her smile is radiant, trembling with emotion. When Max and I got together, we went to see her, and she cried with happiness. She had no choice but to go along with my father’s lie, as she needed the job and she knew my father would destroy her son if she didn’t agree, but her joy at seeing us together was unmistakable.
“Oh, Amelia,” she says, her voice thick, cracking, as she squeezes my fingers. “You’re so beautiful, so perfect. My Max is the luckiest man alive.” She leans in and kisses my cheek. Her lips are warm and dry, and the familiar scent of her rosewater perfume wraps around me like a hug.
I smile, my throat tight, tears pricking behind my eyes, and I squeeze her hand back, grateful for her warmth, her love.
The music starts—a soft swell of strings, lilting and dreamlike—and my heart leaps. Through the veil, I see it all: the land around our lake transformed, draped in purple flowers and daisies, their petals swaying in the gentle breeze. The water glimmers, reflecting the sun’s dying rays, casting the whole scene in a glow that feels unreal, but perfect. Rows of chairs line the aisle, filled with faces—friends, family, Max’s colleagues—all turning to watch, their murmurs fading into the music.
At the altar, Max stands, tall and striking in his black tuxedo, his dark hair catching the light, his blue eyes fixed on me, intense and full of love. His groomsmen stand beside him, and my bridesmaids—Ellie included—wait in their lavender dresses, smiling through tears. The air smells of lake water and blooms, and my pulse races, my hands trembling in Ellen’s grip.
She guides me forward, my white dress trailing behind, its silk cool against my skin, the bodice fitted, the skirt flowing like a cloud. Each step feels like a vow, bringing me closer to Max. Max’s gaze never wavers, and when I reach him, his hands find mine, warm and steady. He doesn’t kiss me—the minister hasn’t given the word—but his touch is electric, lighting a spark inside me, his eyes saying everything his lips can’t. I’m shaking and speechless, my heart is so full it might burst.
I smile up at him, my veil a soft barrier between us.
A small gasp of appreciation ripples through the crowd, and we turn to see Jason, the most adorable groomsman in his tiny tuxedo, strutting down the aisle. There's a velvet pillow clutched in his hands. The rings are glinting in the sunlight. His dark curls bounce, his grin is wide and gorgeous, and his gray eyes sparkle with pride. My chest aches with love for him. Max chuckles, low and warm, and I crouch down as Jason reaches us, my dress pooling on the floor.
“You look so handsome, little angel,” I say, as I pull him into a hug, and kiss his cheek.
He beams and hands the pillow to Max, who takes the rings.
The minister begins, his voice steady, weaving through the vows. Max speaks first, his words clear, fervent.
“Amelia, you’re my home, my heart, my everything. I promise to love you, to stand by you, to build a life with you, no matter what comes.” His eyes glisten.