Theirs to Corrupt (Titans Captivated #5)

Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Tessa

“Fuck no.”

“No chance,” Link grits out.

Stunning me, the fuck came from Pax.

“You’re not wearing black to our wedding.” Link’s voice is deadly calm.

I exhale. “The dress is beautiful. Elegant.” He’d said so himself.

Eyes darkened with determination, Link turns to Nora. “Can you give us a recommendation?” he asks, as if I never opened my mouth.

“Is there a budget I would need to be considerate of?”

“Yes.”

“No.” Link’s authoritative voice overlays mine.

“Lumière Bridal Atelier. It’s near the Shops at Crystals, if you’re familiar? A private entrance.”

“I am.” He nods to Pax, who excuses himself, moving to the far end of the room, facing away from us.

She gives us the address and directions for ringing the bell. “They will stay up all night if needed for alterations. Eloise offers concierge services, meaning she’ll have the gown delivered when it’s ready and help your bride prepare. Shall I make an appointment for you?”

“We’ll be there in…” Link glances at Pax.

“Twenty to thirty minutes,” he replies, rejoining us.

Did I really think I could win many battles against Link? He’s a force of nature.

“I’ll need a tuxedo,” Pax informs Nora.

Link frowns. “You didn’t bring one?”

“Tried it on last night.” He shrugs. “Jacket’s a little tight in the shoulders.”

“Ah.”

“We have an excellent shop in-house,” Nora replies. “Vestiture Luxe on the lobby level.”

“Wait.” The meeting is ending, and I’m swept up in their millions of decisions. “Don’t you have a women’s clothing place here also?” Surely I’m not the first woman who has come to Vegas needing a dress on short notice.

“We do.” Nora nods. “One that’s very high-end. I’m certain you could find something suitable.”

Link turns to me. His eyes aren’t just dark now. There’s a glint in his eye that sends skitters down my spine.

Then he looks back at Nora. “Make the appointment.” His tone is flat and allows for no argument.

“Of course, Mr. Merritt.” Then she sweeps her gaze over all of us. “Before you leave, do you have an officiant?”

“Elvis is fine with me,” I almost say.

“No,” Link replies.

“We have one available for you, if you’d like.”

“Someone who is amenable to… A rather unconventional arrangement.”

“A…?” Her gaze takes all of us in.

Her eyes widen. Which answers my earlier question. She’d been oblivious to our relationship dynamics.

“The three of us will need to be included.”

“Ahm…” She clears her throat. “You understand there are legalities?—”

“We do,” Link interrupts.

“I’m sure we can work something out.” After typing into her pad, she nods. “Reverend Clara is available to meet with you in the morning. I’ll…ah…explain the situation.”

“See that you do.”

“Will ten o’clock be suitable?”

Link looks at me, and I nod my ascent.

“That’ll be fine.”

“Followed by a rehearsal? Say ten thirty, just to give us a little time buffer?”

Again, he agrees.

“Both appointments will be at the Sky Chapel. Do you need a text or email reminder?”

“We’ll be fine.”

Pax types notes into his watch.

“Thank you.” Link stands and offers his hand. “Darling?”

Darling? Is this an act for the planner?

If so, it’s not needed.

Link and Pax thank the woman for her time, and she shakes hands with all of us.

She smiles at me. “I look forward to seeing you all in the morning.”

When we leave the event planning area, Torin and Mira fall in step with us as usual.

Pax checks his watch. “We should have just enough time to make it.”

And I’d rather go sit by the pool than go to another boutique.

But my protests don’t mean much.

We leave the resort by the back entrance, the same way we arrived yesterday.

A sleek, black limousine is waiting for us, driven by the same Hawkeye team that picked us up from the airport.

Torin and Mira flank us as we make our way to the vehicle. And when we reach Lumière Bridal Atelier, Mira once again accompanies us inside.

The owner, Eloise St. Clair, greets us personally and welcomes us to her Parisian-inspired shop.

The store is larger than I expected, and an enormous chandelier dominates the space. Mirrors are everywhere, refracting the light in magical, dancing prisms.

Mannequins are stylishly dressed in every kind of gown imaginable, most in white or ivory.

There are racks with several different selections on each and mirrored glass cases with jewelry and headpieces and belts.

I feel as if I’ve stepped into fantasy land.

Of course, we’re offered champagne.

In the last twenty-four hours, I’ve consumed more bubbly than I have in my entire life put together. “Thank you. No.” If I drink any more, I’ll need to sleep for a week.

“Are you gentlemen staying?” she asks my future husbands.

“We are.” Link answers for both of them.

“Whiskey?” she offers. “Champagne? Beer?”

“Whiskey,” the two reply simultaneously.

“Of course. Please make yourselves comfortable.”

“We’ll be waiting,” Link says to me.

Eloise arranges for an assistant to show them to the far corner of the salon. Instead of the seating area being covered in a pinkish velvet fabric, chairs in that section are deep red and leather. A coffee table is stacked with magazines. But the area is still surrounded by mirrors, and there’s a platform to stand on.

Moments later, another assistant wheels over an elegant cart with several crystal decanters and glasses on the top.

Makes sense. Alcohol loosens inhibitions along with wallets, no doubt.

“Now, dear, let’s get you sorted out.” Once we’re alone, Eloise takes my hands.

This afternoon, there are only a few other people in the store, and it seems I have the owner’s undivided attention.

“What kind of dress have you always imagined yourself wearing?”

Suddenly, unexpectedly, a lump lodges in my throat.

As a little girl, I remember talking to mom about my fairy-princess wedding, including a tiara.

Eloise waves over a clerk and requests water for me.

Though I want to instinctively protest that I don’t need it, I’m grateful when the small, cold bottle is pressed into my hand. “Thank you.”

After a few sips, I recover enough to blink away the tears that are stinging my eyes.

I’ve learned to compartmentalize my losses and focus on what I have to do.

Today shouldn’t be any different.

“Would you like to browse? See if we can eliminate any styles.” With that, she guides me around the showroom.

The boutique is a sea of silk, lace, and tulle, with gowns more elaborate than anything I’ve ever seen up close.

The more I see, the more confused I get. “I’m lost.” Don’t most brides have the chance to browse online or look at magazines, maybe even watch a few TV shows to see what they like?

“I suggest we try several different styles to see what you prefer.”

Because I’m so confused, I seize on the suggestion. I’m more than happy to let the professionals do their job.

Before leaving me, she asks what size shoe I wear and if I have any preferences in styles. Pumps? Sandals?

Since I can’t decide on that either, she says she’ll bring back several for me to try on.

Finally I’m shown to a dressing room, and Eloise brings back several gowns along with a woman to help me dress.

Between yesterday and today, I have no modesty left.

First I try on a slinky sheath that makes me feel like a 1920s starlet. Link and Pax both shake their heads.

Though I always pictured myself in a ballgown, the one that I am laced into overpowers me.

“You look like you’re drowning,” Link observes when I step onto the platform in front of him.

“Like I’m…?”

“Drowning,” he repeats himself. “A slow, painful, suffocating death.”

“That’s descriptive,” Pax muses.

“Well, it feels like it, too.” I can’t help myself. I laugh. How long has it been since I did that? “I hate it.”

“Thank God,” Pax says. “I was trying to think of something polite to say.”

Both men grin.

In that moment, there’s an easy intimacy between the three of us that rocks me.

What if we’d met under different circumstances? And what if this was real?

Forcing myself back to reality, I pick up the hem and hurry back to the dressing room.

Next comes a daring backless number that also plunges in the front, making both Link and Pax’s eyes darken with desire.

“As much as I love you in it, I will not have other men looking at you.”

I start to ask if he’s serious, but the expression in his eyes says he’ll kill anyone who looks at me sideways.

“I have the perfect selection,” Eloise tells me, sweeping into the dressing room with another gown.

She holds it up in front of me, and my breath vanishes at the sight of the crepe sheath with a stunning, square neckline. There’s also a fantastic big bow right below the base of my spine.

“What do you think?”

“I love it.” And I hope it’s flattering so I can stop shopping.

She helps me, while her assistant arranges the back of the dress.

I’ve lost far too much weight to have any curves, but the gorgeous fabric flows over my body. But because the garment nips in at the waist, I have the illusion of a feminine shape.

“Let’s try the sandals.”

Both women help me balance while I slip into the beautiful silver heels with rhinestones on them.

Then Eloise steps back, but not before I see her nod and smile.

I study my reflection.

A small train adds a touch of drama, and as I turn, I catch sight of the exquisite detail on the back—a row of tiny buttons starting at the base of my spine and running down the length of the gown. But that beautiful bow adds a romantic flourish. Though the back is open, the dress still feels modest.

“Tout simplement magnifique.” Eloise smiles. “Simply magnificent.”

Emotion threatens to overwhelm me.

I wish my mom were here to see this, to help me choose, to cry happy tears and fuss over every detail. I can almost hear her voice, telling me how beautiful I look. And Samantha, my best friend from what feels like a lifetime ago… She should be here too, gushing over the dress, planning my bachelorette party, and cracking jokes about my honeymoon.

But I won’t be sharing this moment with anyone who matters, and life has turned my dreams into nightmares.

When I step out of the dressing room, the expressions on Link’s and Pax’s faces tell me everything I need to know.

“That’s the one,” Link says softly, his eyes never leaving me.

Pax nods in agreement. “You’re even more gorgeous than ever, Tessa.”

The dress is elegant without being too formal. It suits me—or at least, the version of me I’m slowly becoming.

As I continue to gaze at my reflection, a different feeling hits me.

Peace.

Eloise is standing to one side, slightly behind me. She’s smiling. “Tessa, is this your gown?”

I blink back tears, but one clings to my eyelashes. “Yes.”

Once we’re back in the dressing room, Eloise brings a selection of veils for me to try. “So your gentlemen have some surprise for the wedding, no?”

Not that it should matter to me.

“Which one?”

I settle for one that will attach to the back of my hair.

“This dress was made for you, ma chérie .”

Even I’m captivated by my image. The addition of the beautiful veil has made the outfit complete.

She asks her assistant to fetch the seamstress.

When she arrives, the two converse in French, and pins are stuck into the dress.

“What time is the wedding?” Eloise asks.

“Evening.”

She nods.

A few moments later, the seamstress stands, studies me in the mirror, then nods in satisfaction and leaves.

“You are a beautiful Lumière bride,” Eloise says, embracing me.

The dress is so beautiful that I don’t want to take it off.

Five minutes later, I’m Cinderella again, and the princess becomes just another role I play.

In the showroom, Link and Pax have their arms full of lingerie.

Horrified, blushing, I hurry over to them. “What are you doing?”

“Thinking about the honeymoon.” Link shrugs.

Pax nods.

Wearing a smile, an assistant joins us. “May I wrap these for you, gentlemen?”

Showing no signs of embarrassment, they hand them over.

But they’re not done yet.

The pair return to the hangers and shelves that are filled with every kind of negligee imaginable.

My cheeks burn even hotter as they peruse the selections. White, black, red, purple. “I think you have enough.”

Neither responds to me.

Pax lifts a hanger containing a short, clingy scrap of sheer black lace. “For tomorrow night.”

I’m scandalized. That garment will cover nothing.

Less than nothing.

But Link nods. “Agree.”

Then they both look at me, and my breath catches as I think about wearing it for them, the hungry looks of appreciation in their eyes as they slowly peel it off me.

“Pax is a connoisseur,” Link assures me. “It’s perfect.”

Less than fifteen minutes later, we leave the boutique, bags in hand and with my head spinning.

Hours ago, I was a struggling waitress, scraping by and looking over my shoulder.

Now I’m planning my life with a billionaire and a bodyguard.

I have to be dreaming.

“There’s one more thing we need to handle.”

“Oh?”

“The justice center,” Pax instructs our driver. He rattles off an address.

“Marriage license,” Link tells me.

How did I not think of that?

Maybe because I’m on some sort of crazy carnival ride that never seems to end.

Once Link, Pax, and I are inside the Marriage License Bureau, I stop. “You’re okay with this?” I ask Pax, waving my hand. “The whole thing, I mean.” After all, I have no idea how a marriage between three people works.

“Link and I discussed it. And yes.” He smiles, momentarily cracking his protective, badass veneer. “Thank you.”

In his situation, I’m not sure how I’d feel.

Together Link and I figure out what we need to do to get the license.

All of a sudden, this has become too real.

After filling in my part of the digital application, I turn it over to Link.

Because I’m curious, I watch him fill in his name.

Lincoln Sovereign Merritt.

Sovereign?

So much for my assumption that the selection of his company name was an ego-driven, grandiose decision.

I was wrong about him. Once again.

“Shall we?” he asks as a clerk waves us over.

Link pulls out a credit card and pays the fee.

In less time than I imagined possible, we’re issued an official license.

Document in hand, Link turns to me.

Then, with a wicked smile, he leans in close, stealing the air I need to breathe. “Too late to escape now, little dove.”