The Wrong Groom Read online

  The Wrong Groom

  A second chance fake marriage romance

  Emelia Blair

  Copyright © 2018 by Emelia Blair All rights reserved.

  This book is an original work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination. Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18.

  Please respect this author’s hard work! It is not legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Thanks!

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. Philip

  2. Charlotte

  3. Philip

  4. Charlotte

  5. Philip

  6. Charlotte

  7. Philip

  8. Charlotte

  9. Philip

  10. Charlotte

  11. Philip

  12. Charlotte

  13. Philip

  14. Charlotte

  15. Philip

  16. Charlotte

  Thank you!

  1

  Philip

  I glide up the steps of the church, not at all bothered by how late I am. If Agatha hadn’t kept sending me text after text, I would have tried to delay my attendance even further.

  I do not want to be here.

  A quick ping from my pager reminds me that I have a meeting in about three hours.

  The church doors are wide open and as I stroll inside, I mentally try to recall the face of the investor I am supposed to meet.

  The doors leading to the ceremony room are closed shut and I frown, vaguely annoyed.

  Going around the room for the side entrance seemed like such a hassle. Glancing at my watch, I consider bailing for a moment but I can already imagine Agatha nagging me for the rest of the summer, and I quickly discard that idea.

  I don’t know where my younger sister learnt to nag, but it is an art of hers.

  She never nags Fergus or Ian, though.

  I am the only one privileged to this. The way my childhood friends treat her, you would think she is their sister.

  The door to the side gallery stands wide open. Nobody seems to be there for the meet and greet.

  Maybe I missed the ceremony?

  That can’t be it because I hear people chattering in the ceremony room. I duck into the gallery and make my way to the end of the corridor, when passing one of the rooms I see a glimpse of the one person I did not wish to meet today.

  The bride.

  Charlotte Evans is as beautiful as the day I had seen her last.

  Of course, ten years ago her striking dark brown eyes had held devastation as she locked her gaze with my deep blue eyes.

  Now, fixing her white dress in the mirror, she looks happy.

  Or at least she looks happy from where I can see her.

  I duck in a corner to stay out of sight, unable to tear my gaze away from her stunning form. She is tall, not too tall, but enough that when she wore those small summer shorts, her legs would make all the boys drool.

  Now those legs are covered in a long, fitted white dress that is so simple and yet makes her stand out even more. Her hair is curled and lay gently over her shoulders which are bare. My eyes move over her painted red lips to her darkened eyes, and I think to myself that her soon to be husband is a lucky man.

  She looks like a fairy from one of the books that Agatha used to love to read as a child; so ethereal and yet delicate.

  I force my hands into my pockets as my heart skips a beat.

  My eyes blink and I turn my head away, not wanting to look at her any longer.

  I don’t have that right.

  Quietly I move past the room, my black leather shoes not making a sound against the marble floor.

  I scowl as I stroll through the hallway, my hands deep inside the pockets of my pants.

  Thinking of the past brings nothing but twinges of guilt, and I have already moved past that.

  We both moved past that.

  She is my sister’s best friend. But to me, she will always be the young girl who watched me with that dark bruised gaze of hers. Her eyes more mature than anyone I ever knew, holding secrets that her soul can’t seem to bear.

  Not that she ever shared them.

  Some I figured out, and others she held to herself.

  After all, Charlotte never liked to ask anyone for help.

  My head cocked when I read Agatha’s sudden message, demanding that I show up or she would trash my new Mercedes. Knowing that little hellion, she probably would.

  The door of the side entrance is around the corner of the hall and as I reach there, I hear two male voices.

  Normally, I wouldn’t stop but the words ‘bad idea’, forced me to halt.

  I stand still in my spot, their voices reaching me clear as day.

  One of the men who has a nasally voice, grumbles, a little worried, “I don’t think this is such a good idea, Erik. All the guests are here. Your whole family is here.”

  The other man, whom I presume is Erik, growls, “Well, I don’t have any other choice, do I? I’m not going through with this fucking charade. Besides, this was Madison’s idea. I didn’t know she would take it this far.”

  The other man tried to change his mind, “This will ruin her. Look, just go and tell her now. At least save her the embarrassment!”

  Erik didn’t seem to be in any mood to listen, “For fuck’s sake, Jason. You’re acting as if she means something to you. Just stick with the fucking plan.”

  I hear the footsteps move in the other direction, while I remain still in my position.

  What was that?

  I glance towards the ajar door which I left behind me.

  It can’t be –

  My calculating mind is racing with the possibilities, trying to decipher this conversation. The name Erik sounds very familiar, and I frown.

  Shaking my head, I move forward, hoping this is just some random discussion between friends. However, a niggling doubt remained at the back of my head.

  Agatha looked beautiful. And very angry, as she stood next to what was my designated seat, her silver clad toe tapping impatiently on the carpeted ground.

  Her delicate blonde hair was swept up in some complicated hair style, and I could make no sense of her earrings except that they looked like something shiny that I would usually buy for the women who waltzed through my life.

  She looks very pretty though, and I lean over and plant a kiss on her cheek, “Sorry. Traffic was hell.”

  Her pink lips parted in an annoyed smile, “Yeah? Funny how Mr. Anderson managed to arrive before you, even though he left fifteen minutes after you and his office is ten kilometers further away than yours, Philip.”

  I just smile at her, and she shakes her head, sighing, “Just sit down. I have to go and see Charlotte.”

  As she was leaving, she glanced over her shoulder and her blue eyes gleamed at me, “Nice tux, big brother.”

  I take a look around the room and realize that aside from the few men that I perceive to be the groomsmen, everybody else is following a black-tie dress code.

  I roll my eyes.

  My sister sucks at pranks.

  As I settle into my seat, I wished I wasn’t seated in the third aisle which would have a very good view of the bride and groom.

  With nothing to do, I started studying the people in the room.

  There i
s nobody from Charlotte’s side of the family, which isn’t very surprising. I heard her stepfather disappeared a few years back and her mother passed away when she was young. Grams would have come but she was at my father’s side in Germany, as he recovers from a skiing accident.

  I would have thought that by this time she would realized that her son and daughter-in-law were always going to be wild and reckless. From what Agatha told me, our paternal grandmother was pretty upset that she was missing Charlotte’s big moment.

  Yet, I could see that my sister made sure that the bride’s side is full of people I don’t recognize. I assumed they are Charlotte’s colleagues or something.

  My observant gaze moves over the groomsmen, and I watch with brows knitted when I sense the tension in the room. Their shoulders were stiff, and I watched the groom arrive and stand in his place.

  He seemed familiar.

  What was his name?

  I knew Agatha had told me, but I couldn’t recall it.

  He looked jittery and excitable, his eyes constantly moving to the second row where a brunette sat. I couldn’t see her face, but I could sense that her eyes were on the groom. I wondered how she was related to this man.

  Not that he was much to look at. The man was of an average height, with dark brown hair and light blue eyes. Women might find his type attractive but as a businessman, he screamed smarmy to me, and I wondered what Charlotte possibly saw in him.

  Even from here, I could see his bow was a little crooked, and his shirt was untucked from various angles. His pants were wrinkled, and I could notice creases on his vest. He looked terribly untidy, as if he had just rolled out of bed in the tux.

  My eyes narrowed at the tufts of hair that he had been unable to slick down.

  It almost looked like he had had a quickie in some closet or something.

  I had a bad feeling that I couldn’t shake off.

  However, it was at that very moment when the band started playing the wedding march, and I couldn’t help myself as I turned around to see Charlotte enter.

  I usually prided myself as a very cool and composed man.

  I have to be, considering I am the CEO of a successful company and amongst one of the wealthiest men in Chicago.

  But even I could feel myself gaping as Charlotte entered the room, her beautiful features set in a happy smile, and her white dress emphasizing her form and yet making her seem modest. There are no frills on that dress, something I had failed to note beforehand, just embroidered white roses on the edges of the gown. The simplicity just makes her shine more and I hold my breath.

  I quickly turn around, not wanting her to see me looking at her like that.

  My eyes caught the groom staring at her and then he quickly turned to look at the brunette again.

  My fingers tapped on my leg and my instincts screamed at me that this whole thing was going to go south within minutes.

  Charlotte didn’t notice me, as she walks gracefully to the altar, murmuring something to the priest who beamed at her.

  It didn’t escape me that she had no one to give her away and I clenched my teeth.

  I watched as Agatha accepted the bouquet from her, her pink dress very understated which was new for my sister, who believed in flash and glamour. However, she just delicately dabbed at a corner of her eye and smiled broadly as the ceremony began.

  It was going fine, till the priest asked, “Do you Erik take Charlotte to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

  Things just went downhill from there.

  I half lifted from my seat, recalling the conversation in the hall, horror coursing through my veins, a bad premonition, just as Erik smirked at Charlotte and said, “No.”

  Everybody froze.

  Charlotte blinked, and she raised a hand to touch his wrist as if she was trying to understand, when he slapped her hand away.

  “Don’t touch me. I don’t want to make you my wife. God woman, I can hardly fuck you in bed.”

  Charlotte’s face grew white, as she took a trembling step back.

  I was on my feet, just as Agatha rushed to Charlotte’s side.

  “Erik.”

  His name left Charlotte’s lips in a pleading whisper that I couldn’t stand, but the man wasn’t done, his lips twisting into an ugly sneer, “What the fuck would I do with a barren woman like you?”

  Barren?

  The word barely processed in my mind as I saw the broken look on Charlotte’s face and I found my feet moving.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw the brunette stand up and make her way out of the aisle, just as the groom walked down the steps leaving his shattered fiancée behind. He had barely taken one step towards the woman, before I threw my fist in his face, making him fall to the ground with the force of the blow.

  Fury poured through me, my blood boiling at the cruelty this man had inflicted on Charlotte. My body raged at the injustice, my protective streak when it came to this woman, in full throttle, demanding blood.

  I could hear the startled cries and the scream of the brunette woman, who turned to look at me and gasped in recognition, her hands going to cover her mouth.

  I gave her a cold look, a part of me knowing she had something to do with this.

  Erik groaned from his position on the ground, his groomsmen running over to help him up. None of them spoke a word.

  Erik’s nose was bleeding, and he squinted through his hands that were trying to stem the blood flow, “Who the fuck – I’m going to sue you, you bastard!”

  “Go ahead,” I invited him calmly, letting him see the violence simmering on the surface on my skin.

  None of his friends defended him.

  All the guests stood by, holding their breath.

  The brunette grabbed him by his arm, and dragged him away, “Let’s go, Erik! Come on!”

  Erik glared at me, and I let him see the promise of pain in my eyes.

  Oh, yes.

  Erik was definitely going to be hearing from me, soon.

  I didn’t watch him walk out. My eyes now turned towards the altar where the priest had his arm around Charlotte who was staring blankly at me, nothing in her eyes.

  I moved towards her with determined strides, each step strengthening my resolve for what I was about to do. The analytical part of me knew that this could have dire consequences, but I would be damned if I let Charlotte be humiliated in front of this huge gathering.

  I marched up the altar, facing the woman I had not seen in ten years, and said, “Marry me.”

  2

  Charlotte

  “Marry me?”

  The words echoed in my brain as I stared at the man in front of me.

  What was he saying?

  Why was he saying that?

  My whole world had been rocked and I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, and my body felt cold and numb.

  I took a step back, bumping into Agatha, who was also staring at her brother. “Philip?” she screamed over my shoulder.

  Philip.

  I wanted to run away and curl up in a corner somewhere and just cry. Hide myself in a place where the world couldn’t see me.

  Philip’s hands fastened on mine, as if sensing my desire and holding me here. His deep blue eyes didn’t shift from mine, “Marry me, Charlotte.”

  Desperate, confused, and heartbroken, I looked around and saw all the guests staring at me. Some of them looking sympathetic, some hiding their smirks, some just enjoying the drama. Nobody from Erik’s side had left except for Madison.

  I felt my head grow light. Philip tightened his grip on mine, and he leaned forward and whispered close to my ear, “This is the best revenge you can get on that bastard, Charlotte. Do not break!”

  His words were a command, no doubt or hesitation in his voice and I saw Agatha nod in my peripheral vision. Trapped between both siblings who were offering me their strength, I looked over to the priest, who looked troubled but nodded, his voice low, “It can be done. I can have the marriage licenses prepared immediately after t
he wedding if you can spare someone-“

  Agatha stepped up, “I’ll go. I have all their information.”

  The priest murmured something to her that I couldn’t make out. My mind had stopped working. Agatha disappeared and the priest made a brief fuss, asking everyone to hush down and let the ceremony continue.

  It was a short and curt ceremony. My mind in a daze, only Philip’s hands holding me still.

  Throughout the ceremony, Philip held an eye contact with me. When he sensed me trembling, he tightened his grip so hard that at the back of my mind, I knew his fingers would leave their mark on me for days.

  I didn’t know when the ceremony ended.

  Philip’s mouth barely grazed mine.

  There was an awkward silence from the guests till one of them, a familiar face, stood up and started clapping and hooting, screaming, “Way to go, Charlotte!”

  The rest of the people sitting on the left side, took their cue from her. My body was limp against Philip’s as the priest announced, “I now present to you, Mr. and Mrs. McCoy.”

  The guests from the groom’s side stood awkwardly. I could see Erik’s parents, the embarrassment in their eyes, but I didn’t have it in me to feel bad for them.

  I had nothing in me.

  It was as if somebody had sucked my soul out and I was just an empty shell. My chest hurt with the pain and I just wanted to collapse on the altar.

  Nobody came forward to congratulate me. I watched the guests file out, quitely.

  “Charlotte.”

  It was Mrs. Mason, Erik’s mother, and I found myself cringing away from her. She looked horrified, “Charlotte, I had no idea! Please, my dear, you have to believe me.”

  I shook my head, my body shaking now, my eyes burning.

  Philip pulled me into his hard body, not caring how it looked, his words curt, “Please leave. Your son has done enough damage today.”