by Eden Summers
“Her father?” Jan repeated on a whisper.
“Yes.” He didn’t elaborate. Alana’s relationship with the man was nobody’s business, and Mitch didn’t plan on sharing information that could make its way into the tabloids. “So what will it take, Jan? All I need is his room number.” He ground his teeth while he waited, every second making his anger more palpable.
“We won’t cause any trouble,” Blake added, then winced at the lie.
Yeah, getting around this situation without causing trouble wasn’t realistic. Mitch already wanted to grab Alana’s father around the neck for daring to show up.
“Mitch…” Jan’s gaze pleaded as she glanced between them both.
“Come on. We’re running out of time.” He stepped forward cupping her shoulders. “Please.” He raised his eyebrows, begging for the room of the son of a bitch who raped Alana’s mother.
“It’s on the fifth floor.” She sighed. “I’d have to confirm the number.”
***
Mitch strode down the hotel hallway, his eyes skimming the door numbers as he passed. This was the last thing he should be doing on the morning of his wedding.
“Calm the fuck down,” Blake ordered. “I can’t keep up.”
Mitch no longer had hold of his self-control. He was furious that anyone, let alone Alana’s father, would dare to ruin their day. And he wouldn’t calm down until the asshole who raped his fiancées’ mother was as far away as possible. Alana had barely gotten over the whole one-eyebrow, orange tan, and mangled face incident. If she knew Bowen was here, she may not stick around to ask questions.
“I can’t,” he spoke over his shoulder. “Alana doesn’t deserve this. I need to get him out of here. God knows she’ll probably take off if anything else goes wrong.”
“She wouldn’t do that.”
Mitch paused and turned on his friend. “No?” He raised a brow. “I wouldn’t have thought so either, but you haven’t lived with her for the past weeks. She was barely hanging on in Vegas. She puts up with way too much shit to be with me. Us guys are different,” he waved between them both. “We have the thrill of performing live, the rush that comes with screaming fans, and a loaded bank account. What does she get? Social media judging her every day. Paparazzi stalking her trips to the store. Seeing her father will spook her, and I won’t risk her running out on me.”
“She isn’t going to run,” Blake muttered. “You’re both nervous, that’s all.”
Mitch ground his teeth in frustration. Blake didn’t get it. He had no fucking clue. Gabi was a strong willed woman of the world. Although Alana was growing into a capable and highly-independent woman, she was still vulnerable, in need of his protection. But arguing the point was useless, and Mitch didn’t have time to waste.
He turned and didn’t stop his angered footfalls until he reached Chris Bowen’s door. Moments later, Blake was at his side, and they both knocked on the heavy wood in unison.
“Just remember to keep your cool,” Blake said, “If you pop the old-timer again, you’ll probably end up in the slammer.”
What cool?
Mitch heard the door chain release, then there was a heartbeat of silence. Alana’s father must be looking through the peep hole, weighing up his options. Then the large wooden door opened a crack, and the familiar face stared back at him.
“Mitchell,” the man said in greeting.
“You need to leave.” Common courtesy, kiss my ass.
Chris shook his head. “I’m sorry. That’s not going to happen.” He went to close the door and Blake put his foot in the jam, pushing the door wider with a heavy palm.
“I don’t think you heard him,” Blake growled. “Pack your shit and get out. Now.”
“Or what?” Alana’s father turned his gaze from Blake, back to Mitch. They stared at one another, the older man appearing tired and weary, while Mitch fought not to sneer. “You going to hit me again, son?”
“I’m not your fucking son,” Mitch snapped.
“No?” He raised a questioning brow. “Just soon to be my son-in-law.”
“You’re blood might flow through her veins, but you aren’t her father.”
“She will always be my daughter,” Chris said in defeat. “She’s always been a part of my life, even though I’ve never been a part of hers.”
The retort clenched at Mitch’s heart. Alana was an amazing woman who deserved the love of a doting father. Yet, no matter how much this man cared about her, or wanted to mend the bridges of the past, today, or tomorrow, was not the time to start.
“I won’t let you hurt her.”
“All I want is to see my daughter on her wedding day.”
“All I want is a fluffy pink unicorn,” Blake drawled, “But that ain’t gonna happen.”
Mitch filled his lungs with a deep breath, pictured his future wife in his mind and commanded himself to calm the fuck down. “Seeing you without warning will devastate her. Do you want that?” He raised a taunting brow. “Are you that selfish?”
“She doesn’t need to see me. I don’t want to make a scene. All I want is a glimpse of her on the most important day of her life. Is that too much to ask?”
“Yeah, it is,” Blake replied. “Get tomorrow’s newspaper, I’m sure they’ll have photos.”
“Look.” Chris opened the door wider. “I stood back and allowed Alana’s mother to raise my daughter without me. I’ve paid for my mistakes since the day she was born. I’m not doing it anymore.”
Mitch glared at the man and shook his head. His fury grew, making his hands shake and his heart palpitate. Unless he wanted to physically remove the guy from the building—which legally he’d have no right to do—Mitch had to come up with a different strategy.
“Fine.” He raised his chin and fisted his hand. “Just realize that if you show up to the wedding, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
“I’m a lawyer, son. I know where I can and cannot be.”
Son. Mitch’s eye twitched, and he was glad Blake took over, looming forward, laughing with derision.
“Yeah,” Blake replied in a deathly tone. “And I’m the motherfucker who doesn’t give a shit about your rights. You mess with my friends, and I’ll make you my bitch.” He stepped back, staring Chris down. “Have a lovely afternoon, Mr. Bowen.”
Mitch sat on one of the guest chairs in the silent Grand Ballroom, massaging his forehead to relieve his headache. The room was a mass of glittering lights, polished silver, and heavily scented flowers. It was beautiful, sweet, and reminded him of his future wife. She’d done an outstanding job pulling a celebration this size together, especially when she’d never attended a wedding before.
“How long is she going to be?” Mason broke the silence. He leaned against the back of a chair on the next table, staring at Mitch with concern. They all did—Blake, Ryan, Sean.
“She said she was on her way,” Blake murmured.
They were waiting for Jan. The miraculous wedding planner who Blake tried to convince him would fix everything.
“I can’t sit here doing nothing for much longer,” Mitch muttered. He was going to be late. Not that he had much to do, but the stylist had already been in his suite for over half an hour.
Minutes of tension-filled silence continued, before the sound of a door opened and feminine heels clicked on the floor. “Sorry I’m late,” Jan said, striding toward them. “It took a while to pull everything together.”
“And?” Mitch asked, shifting forward to sit on the edge of his seat.
“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” she replied, coming to stand beside him. “I’ve doubled the security team. There will be men scattered everywhere. Alana’s father won’t get anywhere near her.”
Mitch scrutinized the wedding planner’s confidence.
“I know what I’m doing.” She gave him a half-hearted smile. “We’ve also increased security in the elevators so only staff members with a security card can escort guests to the venue floors. The added guards ar
e merely for your own peace of mind.”
Mitch nodded, the slight sense of relief loosening the vice grip on his lungs. He scanned the faces of his friends, reassured with their looks of approval.
“Sounds good,” Blake spoke up. “He can’t get to the wedding via the elevators, and security can make sure he doesn’t come in through the staircase.”
“Can’t you just kick him out?” Mason asked in annoyance. “I’m sure Mitch has spent enough money here to earn him that privilege.”
Jan sighed. “Mr. Bowen is a hotel guest, and at the moment he hasn’t done anything wrong. And besides that, removing him will create a scene with the paparazzi. We already have a crowd at the front doors, and any public spectacle has the possibility to get back to Alana before the wedding.” Jan’s eyes turned grim. “I can’t stop you from taking matters into your own hands, but for the sake of your happiness, I think you should leave it alone. Let security do their job and try to forget about him.”
Mitch released a bark of laughter. “Yeah, I’ll try and do that.”
“I’m sorry this has happened.” Jan winced. “I’ll do everything in my power to make the day go smoothly.”
“I still think breaking the guy’s legs would be the best option,” Sean announced.
“Then we’d get incarcerated before the wedding even starts,” Mason argued. “And I’d end up being someone’s bitch because I’m better looking than all of you.”
Blake rolled his eyes, and Ryan shook his head.
Sean elbowed Mason in the ribs. “Well, you are the biggest pussy.”
Jan cleared her throat and ignored the commentary. “Honestly, I’ve got enough security to guard a royal wedding. Her father won’t get anywhere near her.”
Mitch ignored the thumping of his heart and nodded. There was nothing else he could do. “Fine.” He turned his attention to the groomsmen. Blake in particular. “I don’t want any of the girls knowing about this.” Asking his best friend to keep this from his wife was rough, but it was the only way to ensure Alana didn’t get upset before the ceremony.
Blake nodded.
“She won’t find out,” Ryan murmured. “We’ll make sure of it.”
“OK then.” Mitch pushed from the chair. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
***
Alana stood in front of the full-length mirror, trying to ignore the way her throat tightened in excitement. The reflection before her made her lips tremble. The ivory dress clung to her waist, the skirt billowing out in a mass of gorgeous waves, while the beaded crystals of the bodice glinted in the light. And with the professional make-up and hairstyle, she barely recognized herself. Yet for the first time in a long while, she felt relieved.
She’d awoken this morning with a clear mind and a smile on her face, ready and more than eager to stride down the aisle and marry the man of her dreams. Her previous anxiety had vanished, replaced with a nervous anticipation that tickled her stomach. For weeks, she’d stressed that there wasn’t enough time to get everything done. Now she wished the minutes would pass quicker, instead of the torturously slow tick, tick, tick of the clock.
Her mom’s sniff broke the silence and Alana turned, dragging the heavy material of her skirt around to face the only other person in the main bedroom.
“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.” Her mom inhaled a ragged breath and lifted a white handkerchief to her nose. “I haven’t told you lately, or enough throughout your life. But I’m so proud of the woman you’ve become.”
“Thank you,” Alana whispered. The words brought tears to her eyes. They’d never been an openly emotional family, and praise hadn’t been easy to earn. Her mom held out her hands, and Alana took them, enjoying the familiar comfort of her touch.
“I’ve been the child in our relationship for a long time,” her mother uttered softly. “You’re wise beyond your years, and I’ve always been a challenge.”
“If I cry, my make-up will be ruined.”
Her mother chuckled and squeezed Alana’s hands. “I know. I know.” She shook her head. “I wasn’t going to say anything. But you deserve to hear how I feel. Mitch is a nice guy, and although no man will ever be worthy of you, I think the two of you make a great couple.”
Dealing with the changes in Alana’s life had been hard for a mother who couldn’t stand the company of men. There had never been a kind word spoken about the lead guitarist, no praise, no affection. Yet Alana had always known it was there…somewhere.
“Mitchell is a great man,” she replied.
Her mom sighed with a nod. “Yes, he is. And if he ever hurts you, I’ll rip his balls off.”
Any other daughter would’ve laughed. Alana couldn’t. Her mother was dead serious. “OK,” she said with hesitation. “Good to know.” She leaned in, gently hugging her mom so they didn’t crumple or smudge anything.
“I love you, sweetheart.” The words murmured past Alana’s cheek.
“I love you, too.”
For most of Alana’s life, it had been the two of them. Yes, the retreat she grew up on had housed many women. But they came and went, never sticking around for more than a year or two. This lady had been the only constant throughout her life until she found Mitchell.
“I’m proud of you, too,” Alana added. “Being here is hard for you.”
“You don’t need to worry about me.”
Alana did, though. Her grandparents had been unable to attend the engagement party, so today would be the first time her mother came face to face with the parents of the man who raped her since before Alana was born.
“Your grandparents are lovely people,” she continued. “I spent half my childhood in their house. It will be…nice to catch up with them again.”
Alana pulled back and raised a brow.
“OK, that could be the shrink talking.” Her mom grinned. “But I can’t wait to see my baby girl walk down the aisle. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Silence hung heavy between them, clutching at Alana’s heart.
“Your father was a great man once. Well, a boy, really.”
Alana froze. They never spoke about Chris Bowen. Ever. And even though the need to find out more about him clawed at her every day, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to discuss it with her mom. She’d already been through enough. That’s why Alana had become close to her grandparents. Mr. and Mrs. Bowen answered the questions she couldn’t ask her mother.
“I loved him.”
Alana nodded, wrinkling her nose to dissuade the tingling sensation. From what her grandparents had told her, her mom and Chris had been high school sweethearts. Inseparable. Until the night Alana was conceived.
A knock sounded at the door, breaking the moment, and Gabi popped her head inside. “The photographer—” Gabi’s mouth widened, and she pushed the door open, stepping into the room. “Oh, Alana.”
Her maid of honor strode forward in a crimson bridesmaid gown, her eyes wide, her hair pinned back in curls. “You look so pretty.”
“We’re running out of time, ladies.” The photographer stepped into the room and paused. “Whoa. You make a stunning bride.”
Butterflies exploded in Alana’s belly. All that stood between her and the wedding ceremony was the photographs that needed to be taken. Twenty minutes of smiles and laughter, then she’d be beside Mitchell.
“I’m nervous,” she admitted, then blinked in shock at the first burst of bright camera flash.
The photographer grinned. “That smile is too cute to miss.”
Hundreds of snaps later, the photographer left with the promise of a thousand more to come.
“We’re late,” Alana squeaked.
Leah grabbed Alana’s arms, stopping her from scurrying like a mad woman. “You’re meant to be late. That’s one of the bride’s duties.”
“Take a deep breath,” Gabi added, rubbing the tense muscles between Alana’s shoulder blades. “Have you got everything you need? Flowers? Perfume? Lipstick?”
&
nbsp; Kate stepped forward. “It’s all here.” She held up Alana’s bouquet of red roses in one hand and her white clutch in the other.
“Are you able to look after my bag until the reception?” Alana turned to her mom in panic.
“Relax, sweetheart. I can take care of anything you need.”
Alana sucked in a breath. Right now all their guests would be seated in the Starlight Roof room. Her fiancé would be joking with his groomsmen, nervous, and hopefully excited. And her grandfather would be standing near the entry to the ceremony, ready to escort her down the aisle.
“Do you want a drink to ease your nerves?” Leah asked.
“No!” God, no. Anything that reached her stomach would make a second appearance during the wedding vows.
“Let’s go, then.” Her mother’s words were soft, slow, deliberately calm. Not that it helped.
Alana grabbed for her bouquet, thankful to have something to cling to, and followed Gabi to the suite door. With each step her heart thumped harder, threatening to explode.
“This is it,” Gabi spoke, her grief masked behind an enthusiastic smile.
Alana stared at the heavy wood of the door, the image of Mitchell taking over her mind. She couldn’t wait to be with him, to see his reaction, and hear the first words that left his lips. Her focus was consumed with him. Then Gabi opened the door, and two men stood before her. Two large, broad chested men in tailored suits.
“Hello, Ms. Shelton. It would be our honor to escort you to your wedding today.”
Alana stared at the towering men. “Who are you?”
“Hotel security, ma’am. Your husband decided to take a few last minute precautions to ensure your perfect day runs smoothly.”
Alana glanced over her shoulder and frowned at her mother. “Did you know about this?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m sure everything’s fine.”
A tightening in Alana’s stomach told her otherwise. Mitchell wasn’t the precautionary type. He tended to fly by the seat of his pants, sorting or skimming over problems as they occurred.