Reclaiming His Wife

With my mother passing a few years back, and my father’s health going, things started to not look too good. And it got worse when the board finally looked into the books and realized how bad things had gotten. My dad was always a firm captain of his ship, but after my mother’s passing, he just checked out, and the company showed it. Numbers were fudged more and more; production mistakes went unchecked. And now, Cardellini Foods is on the brink of bankruptcy.

No one knows outside me and the board. Well, and Darren and his father.

Because that’s where Darren came in. Darren, who fought with Russell. Darren who I’ve never really liked, and always thought was a creep. Darren who somehow survived when the whole squad, my husband included, died in the desert. Darren whose father is a famously nasty Wall Street corporate raider, who’s made a name for himself for going after struggling companies and buying them up cheap. I’d have thrown their offer in their face, until Darren made a different one.

And it’s a devil’s deal.

First, the company stays running. Everyone who works there keeps their jobs, and Cardellini Food Group will even keep the same name. Darren and his father will bail the company out of its considerable debt after paying my father a decent amount for the company. And they’ll do all that for small little price.

Me.

The deal is, they save the company, but I have to marry Darren.

And it’s happening right now.

The doors open, and a cold dreaded shiver runs down my spine as the organ music washes over me. This isn’t a wedding, it’s a funeral. This is a final burial for the love I once had. But it’s the only way to save the company that’s been in my family for four generations. The annoying wedding planner touches my arm, and I shake it off. Mitchell grabs my elbow, and I grimace.

“Time to make Darren a lucky man, eh?” He chuckles.

I say nothing. This is treason of the heart is what it is. But there’s no escape. I only thank God my dad’s not here, or Russell’s parents, for God’s sake. They know, obviously, and I know they even understand why. I mean I had to tell them why. But I’m glad they’re not here to see this.

Forgive me, I whisper to myself, hating every step as we walk through the doors. It’s a blur as we step down the aisle for the alter. Or in this case, it might as well be a guillotine. Darren’s right there, grinning at me wickedly.

I feel nauseous.

I’ve avoided any physical contact with him. Not even a fucking kiss. I know he’s mostly after me for the company that comes with me. But that said, he’s made it clear what’s happening after this ceremony, and those words of his make me want to throw up.

“Soon,” he whispers lecherously as I move to stand next to him. He winks, leaning closer, the smell of booze on his breath.

“Can’t wait to take that dress off that hot bod and finally get a little taste.”

I cringe as the priest clears his throat, looking uncomfortable.

Not as much as me, father. I mutter to myself.

The crowd sits, the organ stops, and the priest clears his throat.

I close my eyes, hoping it’s all over soon.

“We are gathered here—”

There’s a roaring sound of an engine from outside the church, and my eyes fly open. My heart freezes.

…I know that engine. It’s insane, because it can’t be, but I know what I know.

The engine roars again before coming to a stop. There’s a moment of silence when the priest clears his throat to continue, when suddenly, the big wooded doors I’ve just come through bang back open, and the crowd gasps in horror.

I turn, I look through my veil, and I see it, but my eyes don’t believe it. They can’t, because what I’m seeing is impossible.

My hands tremble as they reach for the veil. The figure storms through the doors of the church, moving right for me, fire brimming in his eyes. My blood roars in my ears.

It can’t be.

Except, it is.

I yank the veil off, my eyes go wide, and my jaw drops. The man blazes down the aisle like storm, blowing past the wide-eyed guests and climbing the three steps to the alter. Until suddenly, like a ghost from my past, he’s standing right in front of me, those dark stormy eyes of his scorching into mine. My heart soars.

“It—it can’t be…” I whisper, my voice choking.

There’s that grin—the way his perfect lips curl at the corners.

“And why not, beautiful?”

The voice I’ve only heard in dreams and old videos hits me like a blast of wind, knocking me back before I lunge for him. And suddenly his arms are there, holding me, touching me, gripping me so tight as I fall into him. The gaps and protests of the crowd blur away and fade to nothing.