Stealing Her (Covet 1)

Not me and Izzy.

Me and Julian.

And then all thoughts of my twin dissipated as the doors opened and the bridal march started.

“Forgive me, Father,” I whispered under my breath. “For I have sinned . . .”

Chapter Forty-Three

ISOBEL

I hated that I had to loop my arm in his.

He was so arrogant.

So pleased with himself.

The music started. It was beautiful, hundreds of white candles glowed up front by the altar where Bridge was waiting. The smell of lavender filled the air. My dress was perfect, my shoes even more perfect, and the man I loved was waiting for me.

Looking at me the way every bride wants to be looked at on her wedding day.

With complete adoration.

With love.

His eyes glistened with tears as he mouthed “I love you.”

Tears slid down my cheeks as I mouthed it back.

His grin was huge.

It was taking forever to make it to the end of the aisle.

But we finally made it.

“Who gives this woman?”

“I do.” Edward claimed me loudly and then leaned in and kissed my right cheek, then my left.

Bridge held out his arm.

I looped mine in it and then I leaned my head against him, I just needed to be closer.

Touching him.

He wrapped an arm around me.

And that’s how we said our vows.

With me practically in his arms.

And Bridge Tennyson, twin to my real fiancé, refusing to let me go.

It was a happy moment, being claimed by him, followed by sweeping sadness that Julian wasn’t here, that we’d never had closure.

That he was lying in bed, with machines beeping around him instead of being surrounded by friends and family.

This would have been his day, ours.

But Bridge and I were stealing that too, weren’t we?

You can’t help who you love.

I knew that more than most.

Because when I was still grasping at the love I had for Julian, I’d fallen for Bridge.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!” I was already turning in his arms.

Bridge grinned down at me and then swept in with a kiss that stole my breath as he lifted me into the air amidst cheers from the crowd.

It was perfect.

I was crying.

He swiped his thumb beneath my eyes and winked as we held hands and made our way back down the aisle.

I almost tripped on my dress when Bridge suddenly stopped.

I smiled up at him and then froze.

He was pale. So pale.

Disbelief etched on every part of his face, on his rigid body.

And I knew.

I don’t know how I knew.

I just knew.

Slowly, while people still cheered around us, I looked down the aisle where Bridge stared.

And in a three-piece suit, looking every inch the billionaire playboy.

Stood Julian Tennyson.

With rage in his eyes.

And vengeance in his stance.

Chapter Forty-Four

BRIDGE

I couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t think beyond what the hell was he doing there and why did he look so damn healthy?

I snapped out of my shock but not quick enough. People around us started pointing and whispering.

Tears poured down Izzy’s face by the time we reached the end of the aisle, and with the confidence of a Tennyson, Julian walked right out in front of us toward the ballroom.

Hundreds of people were invited to the reception, though only fifty or so had been invited to the actual ceremony, which meant we had a room full of people waiting for us.

Including the media.

I clung to Izzy. “Julian, wait—”

“So you do remember my name.” He didn’t turn around. Instead, he shoved open the ballroom doors.

People cheered.

Cameras flashed.

And then they gasped.

Happy music pounded through the sound system as people sat at their tables with shocked expressions.

And then Julian turned to Izzy. “I think I should at least be given the first dance, since this was supposed to be my wedding, since you were supposed to be mine, since this is literally the most fucked-up thing a person can wake up to after fighting for his life. I mean at least give me, your fiancé,” he said through gritted teeth, “a fucking dance.”

Izzy held out a shaking hand to him. He took it without looking at me, without looking at anyone but her.

And I let him.

I let him because I didn’t have a leg to stand on.

Because he was right.

Because all the guilt I’d been feeling was suddenly suffocating me to death, so I stood there while he took my dance, the way I had taken his life.

And with each turn around the room, the pain intensified, so much so that I thought I was going to pass out from it.

Because he was touching her.

He was dancing with her.

I burned with jealousy.

I let myself hate because it was easier to hate him than it was to look at him as a victim.

It was easier to hate him than to look in the mirror and realize I was the villain.

Truly the evil twin.

Because I had stolen it all.

And I would do it again.