He saw her lower lip quivering slightly, the only indication that she was nervous. In every other respect she was perfectly poised. Neither one of them smiled. The intensity of the moment was too much for a smile. Their gazes were locked upon one another. It was as though she was being drawn toward him more than walking under her own power.
He’d expected her to be shy and nervous, unaccustomed as she was to being the center of grotesque amounts of attention. On her first day at Apex she had been such a timid little thing. But she had changed. He had changed her. Now she knew how to portray all the things she was not to the world.
Her bouquet was taken from her as she reached the altar, and she placed her hands in his.
“You look beautiful," he murmured in her ear. “I love you, Sophie.”
She looked up under her lashes and smiled for the first time since she came down the aisle. He felt the warmth of her affection flowing through her hands, reassuring him that this was not all a grotesquely beautiful show. This was real because she made it real.
Alex barely listened to the ceremony. The priest could have been reading the back of a cereal box for all he cared. This wasn't for him. This was for Sophie. She looked absolutely radiant now that the gauntlet of the aisle had been run.
The uncertainty and perhaps even fear which had tainted her face was gone, replaced with a beautiful bridal smile. Her small, slim hands were in his, trustingly encapsulated by his much bigger grasp.
“I do.”
“I do.”
He would have said I do to anything. Words were meaningless. This was a show. At least, that's what he had told himself before this moment. But there was a joining taking place, a fusing of flesh and spirit taking place in sacred ceremony. Alex had never been given to that kind of poetic thought before, but this was something he felt, all the way in the very core of himself. After this, everything was going to be different. They were going to start a new phase in their lives, united as one.
Alex had never imagined he would feel this way about another person. Sophie had become as much a part of him as he was a part of himself. He loved her so much it was like a physical ache in his chest. When this was over, her was going to strip her out of that dress and make the most passionate, tender love to her. And then he was going to apologize, profusely and deeply, for all that he had been, and all that he had failed to be.
“You may now kiss the bride…”
Those were the words Alex had been waiting for. He smiled down at Sophie, released her hands to cup her beautiful face, and…
BLAM!
The gunshot echoed around the chapel, making screams erupt all around. Nobody saw the gun disappear into the many folds of Sophie’s gown, but everybody saw Alex fall backward, a flash of red spreading across his gut, turning the crisp shirt into a soggy red mess.
Security leaped into action, but it was too late. He was bleeding out fast. As much as he fought to stay conscious, there was no way to stay above the dark tide. It rose up over his head in a swift wave and took him down to the depths beneath.
Chapter 28
There was blood all over Sophie's dress. Over her hands. She could feel it drying on her skin, the sanguine essence of some unfortunate clinging to her flesh as if it wanted to become part of her.
Hands were working at her dress, pulling it from her in a gentle but firm, professional fashion. Whoever was undressing her was doing it with a practiced touch. Did she have a maid? No. That's right. She had a butler.
“Smithers? Why are you taking my clothes off on my wedding day?”
"Arms up,” he replied calmly. His tone made her obey, even though her mind was completely addled. She couldn't work out what she was supposed to be doing, or where she was supposed to be. She had a strong feeling that she was unhappy, though she didn't know why.
“Where is Alex?”
“Into the bath. There’s a good girl.”
There was a bath, full of warm water, steaming away gently beside her. She hadn’t noticed it before, but now it seemed to draw her.
She did as she was told mechanically, barely able to understand what was happening. The warm water lapping around her ankles and then her knees and then her thighs…
“I’m naked. You shouldn’t be here, seeing me naked.”
“You’re not well. And you’re not actually naked. I left your undergarments on.”
She looked down and saw that it was true. Her lacy underwear was being dyed pink in the sanguine water of the bath, tendrils of red blood soaking into the water with the gentle current made by her motions. The little logical part left inside her brain thought a shower might have been a better idea.