CHAPTER ONE
KARA
“You’re a miserable excuse for a bride, Kara Valari.”
My sister’s tone, meant as playful, is threaded with enough of her real meaning to excuse my attempt at a laugh. A mostly failed one.
“I won’t tell Madame Voracity if you don’t.”
“Won’t tell me what?”
Kell joins me in whipping semipanicked sights to the doorway of the small dressing room where we’re hiding—ermmm, preparing—ourselves for the upcoming festivities. Events that, according to our new guest, should coalesce into the happiest day of my life.
How I wish I could prove the woman right. But Madame Voracity, for all her glory and notoriety and longstanding relationship with our family, doesn’t—and cannot—know what today is actually all about. Her image is larger than life, but she’s not. She’s a normal human being, just like the majority of the guests who swoon at the Pacific Ocean view while strolling toward the cliffside chapel across the patio.
They all have to keep believing they’re bound for the biggest industry party this decade.
Though right now, that’s far from Maximus’s and my biggest stress.
That honor is in the hands of the other wedding guests. The demigods, gods, and goddesses who mix into the crowd undetected, save for the otherworldly beauty that’s undoubtedly getting them some curious glances from LA’s elite.
It’s the largest gathering of Olympians this century—and probably the twenty-five or so before. And we’re determined to turn it into the largest peace summit the pantheon has ever known.
“We were only saying that you’ve truly outdone yourself, madame.”
Kell for the win on the potential sticky with the designer who’s reminding me of a well-accessorized partridge. Madame probably meant well, dressing in something close to Mother’s chosen color palette for everything, but her dress has decorative overlays shaped like wings, and her strappy heels are natural conspirators for the birdlike steps.
“I hope Maximus is steeled and ready,” my sister adds with sugary diplomacy. “Because he’ll be focusing on keeping his eyeballs in his head from the first sight of this girl.”
“Creepy but oddly sweet,” I mutter, though I’m distracted by my buzzing phone. As I expect—and hope—it’s from the man who turns my chest into a butterfly rave from the sight of his words alone.
My hotter-than-sin fiancé.
You ready to do this, little demon?
I tilt a goofy grin at his avatar on my screen, a photo I snapped when we were taking our golf cart ride to El Capitan Beach on the gorgeous evening in which he proposed. The sight of his windswept hair and brilliant blue gaze brings a perfect burst of bravery for my silly reply.
Did you have to remind me of that last part before we march to an altar while every major player from Hollywood and Olympus watches?
His dancing dots last a mercifully short time.
Heaven didn’t kill us for it during rehearsal.
I tap an answer, wishing it could match my original cheek.
But now heaven is the last of our concerns. Why did everyone have to be here?
Again, wonderfully short-lived dots.
Would you feel better if we met to go over the plan once more? There’s time…
My smile spreads wider. Incredible man. If he were standing in front of me, I’d kiss him for all I was worth. Just the inner vision of it is enough to move my fingers again.
Of course it would. But Kell and Madame V are still in here.
So we go to the backup plan.
You have a backup plan for discussing the big plan?
His slight pause has me assuming his default to a wry chuckle. And then:
Do you remember the storage closet? The one we found during our tour?
My lips barely hold in a giggle.
You really think I’d forget it?
I already know how he’s answering that. With a small smirk of his own, coordinating with the sultry heat that rises in his cobalt gaze. The eyes that started so much for me. The intensity that torched my senses before his touch ever did. It’s so easy to remember it all again now, since it was the same look on his face when he first pulled me into the closet during Mother’s tiff with the wedding coordinator during our tour.
Luckily for us, the planner had a stubborn streak as long as Mother’s. Their debate about the all-day rental fee might as well have been a NATO arms summit. In the way of all successful summits, the end came with compromises. Mother agreed to half a day plus set-up time for the camera crews, while Maximus conceded to giving me only three orgasms.
Only three.
The thought forms a much bigger chuckle in my throat, but I disguise it in the nick of time, going for a strangled choke. Kell doesn’t believe the stressed vibe for a second, but Madame’s all in with her concerned rush to my side.
“Oh, darling!” She runs a smoothing hand along the sparkling design of my fitted dress. Her hand presses at the area above my navel. “Are we feeling all right? Jitters are normal, you know. Just as long as they’re only that.”
This time, Kell’s doing the choke-laugh thing, undoubtedly out of memories from the first fitting we had for the dresses. It wasn’t a pleasant time for me, since I was stressed about my shapewear not doing its duty beneath my gown. Concealing a secret baby has to be an ordeal even under typical circumstances, but mine were—and still are—far from that. And every time Madame got me with an alteration pin, which seemed to be a lot that day…
“Yes,” I murmur, forcing out a composed smile. “Only that, Madame. I promise.”
Translation: I promise the nerves won’t eat up my gut until I almost empty my breakfast onto your creation.
The designer lifts her bright-pink lips and pats my hand. “Good. So very good. You truly have nothing to be flummoxed about, dear one. You are stunning. The natural makeup, and the hair in this long pretty style… Why, the devil himself would agree with me, if he dared lurk nearby!”
The blood leaves my face like a thousand balls dumped from a pachinko machine.
“And everyone in that chapel is going to agree with me,” she waxes on, oblivious. “Especially the one waiting at the end of the aisle for you!”
Yes, well… first he’s got to meet me in the storage room.
I keep the thought carefully cloaked—or so I think. While Madame still primps my gown while humming along with whatever the harpist on the patio is playing, Kell eyes me with completely different intent. She’s not laughing about the fitting day memories anymore.
But she’ll have to deal with it.
Maximus and I don’t have a second to waste.
“You know, Madame…” I push to my feet and feign a little wince. “Now that I think about it, I am a little woozy.”
“Oh no,” the designer gasps. “Ohhh no, oh no!”
“It’s all right.” I squeeze the woman’s clammy hand. She clamps back hard enough to gouge the back of my hand with her talon-length acrylics. How the woman does the basics with those things, let alone the intricate work behind her wedding dresses, is a grand life mystery to me. “I think if I can just sneak outside for some fresh air…”