Runaway Bride

Chapter One

Ivy

I stare at my reflection in the full-length mirror. It’s my wedding day…a day most women wait their entire lives for. For me, however, it’s the one day I can’t wait to be over. Forced into a loveless marriage by my family, I’m drowning in misery.

“You look beautiful, Ivy.” My mother coos, a smile on her lips. I don’t understand how she could be so happy knowing her daughter is being married off to some rich guy to ensure our family status.

“I don’t want to do this,” I mumble under my breath.

The happy smile on my mother’s face falls, and instantly, she morphs into the wicked witch of the west.

“Sometimes we do things we don’t want to do. It’s all part of growing up. Plus, I don’t understand how being married to Joseph could be so bad.”

Of course she wouldn’t understand. She married my father for her own family status, but none of those things mattered to me. Money, power, your last name. I couldn’t care less. When I get married, I want it to be because I love the person, because I want to spend the rest of my life with them, not because I need to up my family’s social status.

“I don’t want new shoes or purses.” I shake my head. “I want real love. Joseph doesn’t even care about me. How can he marry someone he doesn’t care about?”

“Don’t be absurd.” My mother shakes her head, giving me a look of disappointment. “Ready yourself. You need to go meet your new husband in ten minutes.” I lift my gaze from the floor, my feet already aching from the stupidly tall heels I’m wearing. My mother slips out of the room without another word, and I let the tears well in my blue eyes.

My cheeks are a soft pink, my lips painted red. I look beautiful, but feel anything but. I’m a fraud, giving into my families wants and needs. At twenty years old, I’m giving up on the idea of love. My parents don’t help of course. They’ve been pushing me into this for well over a year, trying to convince me every chance they got, until I eventually gave in.

Giving myself one last glance in the mirror, I walk toward the door. The dress I’m wearing clings to my body like a second skin. It’s beautiful, but not something I would have picked out myself.

Opening the door, I step out into the hall. The entire upstairs part of the church has been taken over by the wedding party. It’s eerily quiet as I walk in, telling me everyone has made their way down into the actual wedding area. I walk down the hall briskly, my heels clicking against the wood floor. I make it about halfway when I hear it: a masculine grunt followed by a moan.

What the hell?

“Yes, stick it in my ass, Joseph. Fuck me…fuck me hard…” I all but stop dead in my tracks, almost not wanting to believe it.

“Fuck…fuck…” Joseph’s deep voice vibrates through me. He’s having sex with another woman on our wedding day.

On our wedding day.

I stand there for a long moment, knowing what I have to do. Slipping out of my heels, I start back the way I came. This is the one thing I needed to push me to run. I don’t care that I’m leaving my family behind, or any of my belongings. Do they really matter if they’re forcing me to marry a man who could so easily cheat on me on our goddamn wedding day? Tears swim in my eyes, making it hard for me to see as I scurry down the steps. I need to get out of here before my parents realize I’m missing.

I walk slow even though my body urges me to run. I make it down the steps, then bolt toward the doors. The church has many entrances and exits, and I’ll try every single one if I have to. I push the side door open, and almost sigh feeling the chill of spring air against my hot skin.

Voices sound behind me, and I grab at the fabric of my stupid wedding dress to make it easier to walk. I step outside, suck in a breath of fresh air, and break out into a dead run. My feet slap against the cold concrete as I run. I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m going to do, but anywhere is better than here.

I hurry down the sidewalk, around the church, and into the alleyway. My heart pounds deep inside my chest, and all I hear is the swoosh of blood in my ears. I run down the alleyway and turn the corner, peeking over my shoulder to see if anyone’s following.

As soon as I do, I collide with a brick wall, one that’s so warm, and smell a lot like sandalwood. My nose wrinkles and my cheeks warm as I gaze up at the person.