We’d placed brochures advertising our wedding venue in a tasteful, handcrafted wooden crate behind the last row of seats on the left. They were next to the wedding programs I’d designed by hand, so people had picked them up on the way into and out of the ceremony. As we headed to the garden for more photographs, I heard people whispering about wanting to secure dates before we booked up. Jeremy and I locked eyes and grinned, tightening our grips on each other. We’d done it, together. We’d pulled off the wedding of the century, and it had been a smashing success.
Even more importantly?
We were getting our happily ever after.
Epilogue
The man stood at the window of his penthouse office, frowning down at the city lights below him. From up here, people looked like tiny ants, begging to be squashed beneath his shoe. People, as a general rule, needed a leader. A strong man, and one who wasn’t afraid to take charge. It’s why so many people believed in God. They needed to believe there was a higher power watching over them, keeping them safe.
People needed someone like him.
His brown hair was swept back to the side and gelled to perfection. His blue eyes were best described as cold and calculating, and he had a dimple in his chin that some people found charming. He never failed to use that false charm to his advantage. He straightened the sleeve of his gray Gucci suit and let out a sigh. Somewhere out there, a handful of miles away, Chelsea O’Kane was getting married, thinking she was free of trouble and worry. Somewhere out there, she was smiling, and happy.
It made him sick.
A soft knock sounded, and he called out, “Come in.”
“Sir? You’ve gotten a package.”
He held his hand out. “Give it here, please.” After she gave it to him, he smiled at her and said, “Thank you. That will be all.”
The second the door shut behind her, he tore the envelope open. Inside was a black book he thought he’d never see again, and a cell phone. He flipped through the pages, making sure it was intact, and then opened the phone, dialing quickly. “Sullivan, I was starting to think you’d never deliver this.”
“Of course I would. But here’s something you should know,” the voice on the other end of the line said. “The wedding went over without a hitch. And word is they bought that land next to the inn.”
He tightened his grip on the phone, anger pumping through his veins. Did that damn woman ever fail? Did she know what it felt like to lose something important?
He looked down at the photograph on his desk, the one of the family he’d never met, who didn’t even know he existed. “Looks like I’ll be making my first trip to Hudson soon. Thank you for your help.”
After he hung up, he took the SIM card out of his burner phone and dropped it in a glass of water. He watched it bubble and fizzle, then went behind his desk, opening a drawer. He pulled out the tiny black box, opened it and smiled down at the ring inside it. It was beautiful. A true work of art. Just like its original owner had been.
Snapping it shut, he said out loud to the empty room, “You know what they say. If you want to get the job done the right way, you have to do it yourself. Soon we’ll meet, little sister.”
Read on for a special bonus excerpt from
A Princess in Maine
By Jen McLaughlin
The McCullagh Inn is hosting the event of the century.
Chelsea Holland is used to dealing in secrets, and this one’s proving to be the most exciting one yet: her old friend Grace is marrying a European prince, and Grace wants to host the wedding at the McCullagh Inn. But is Chelsea willing to put herself and her inn in the public eye—especially after being on the run?
Read the story of love and suspense, coming soon from
He reached for the doorknob, but it swung inward before he made contact. Chelsea stood there, practically vibrating with excitement. “Jeremy!” she practically shouted, giving a little hop.
The last time he’d seen her this wired, she’d been working on two hours of sleep, countless cups of coffee, and clutching way too many home renovation books. This time, he knew for a fact she’d gotten more sleep, but the coffee and renovation part…
With his Chels, you never knew.
Fighting back a smile, he said, “What’s up?”
“Everything.” She smiled at him, grabbed his hand, and tugged him inside the inn without so much as a nod in her brother’s direction. “You’ll never guess what just happened!”
“Hello to you, too, sis,” Paul muttered, following them inside despite her lack of greeting.
“I’m guessing you booked us a wedding,” Jeremy said.
“Not just any wedding,” Chelsea continued, reaching out with her free hand to squeeze Paul’s arm in greeting but not letting go of Jeremy. “And Grace isn’t just marrying any average guy. She’s marrying a prince. And they want to have the wedding here, no expenses spared, and offered us triple our normal—”
“Wait.” He held a hand up. “Backtrack a bit. Grace?”
“From school. The shy one.”
He vaguely remembered a Grace. She’d been quiet, smart, and had never spoken to him. “She’s marrying a prince? A real prince?”
“As opposed to a fake one?” Paul said dryly.
Jeremy flipped him off playfully.
Chelsea barely noticed. She was too busy vibrating with excitement. “Yes, a real one. He’s the Prince of Talius,” she exclaimed, still glowing with excitement.
“I’ve never heard of it,” Jeremy said skeptically.
Paul frowned. “Me either.”
“I have. I read about them once in Time,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s somewhere near France. They won their independence after World War II, so they’re fairly new to the world of diplomacy.”
“If she’s marrying a prince…what the hell is she doing here? I know she grew up here, but aren’t there traditions and shit royal weddings have to follow?” he asked.
“That’s what I said, but they want to keep it secret. His countrymen aren’t happy he’s marrying an American, so they want to do it here. We’ll need security, and it’s a rush wedding, so it’ll be a little hectic, but we can totally do it. I mean, we planned our own wedding in two months, right? Why can’t we do it again?”
Jeremy hesitated. “Right…”
Security. Princes. Would-be Princesses. Secrets.
This all translated to a hell of a lot of work.
And when you threw in the word “rushed,” that made it even worse.
It was nice seeing Chelsea so excited, and he adored when she smiled like that, but realistically speaking, this sounded like an awful lot for them to handle so early in their game. They were just starting to make a name for themselves in the wedding industry. While this could be huge for them, if done correctly, it could also be catastrophic for them if they screwed it up.
Was that a risk they should take?
“Wait, was that Grace Grigoris?” Paul exclaimed, his eyes wide.
“Yes!” Chelsea beamed. “Crazy, huh?”
“Very. She barely even talked.” Paul snorted. “How’d she snag a prince?”
Chelsea narrowed her eyes on him. “That’s not fair. She’s gorgeous—”
“How rushed are we talking here?” Jeremy interrupted before the two of them went off on one of their legendary O’Kane fights.
His wife stiffened, and slowly turned to him. “Well, it’s imperative they do this quickly, because no one can find out, so you see, we have to really get on this right away, before the press—”
“Chels.” He locked eyes with her, and she looked away. Shit, this was worse than he thought. She never looked away from him unless it was bad. “How rushed?”
“Two months.” She bit her lip. “The wedding is penned in for July 30.”
His blood rushed through his veins with a red hot fury, because if she was saying what he thought she was saying…
“Funny, because we aren’t going to be here then. W
e’ll be on our own honeymoon, which you promised me you would go on.”
“Unless we aren’t.” She finally looked at him again. “Unless we push it back.”
And that right there was why she wouldn’t look at him earlier.
Son of a bitch.
About the Author
Jen McLaughlin is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling romance author. She was mentioned in Forbes alongside E. L. James as one of the breakout independent authors to dominate the bestseller lists. She is represented by Louise Fury at the Bent Agency. She loves hearing from her fans, and you can visit her on the web at JenMcLaughlin.com.
http://www.jenmclaughlin.com
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