And when he extended his hand toward her, she didn't hesitate when she placed hers in his.
She didn't trust him. Didn't love him. Didn't really know him. But at this moment, she couldn't picture meeting anyone else but him at the end of the runner.
Ah. There was the terror, after all.
The short ceremony rushed by at lightning speed. Soon, the reverend asked them to repeat after him. She didn't stumble over her vows, and to her ears she sounded truthful.
Almost over. We're almost there.
"Lucas has prepared special vows for his bride," the pastor announced with a nod.
Sydney barely controlled her flinch of surprise. He had? Why? This wasn't a usual, loving ceremony. Why would he … ?
"Sydney," he began, his deep timbre at once loud and intimate, almost as if for her ears only. "I know our relationship has been … unconventional. I know your acceptance of me and us has been a sacrifice and a leap into the unknown. I promise today, in front of family and friends, that you haven't leaped alone. And from this day forward, for as long as we are together, I vow you will never be alone again. I promise to protect you, provide for you, shelter you, and dedicate every day of our marriage proving to you how beautiful and special you are. How wanted you are."
Tears, unbidden and hot, stung her eyes. To their wedding guests, she probably appeared like an emotionally overcome bride touched by her groom's pledge of love. But they didn't understand the hidden truth. This … this message wrapped up in pretty words actually meant something to her-where the traditional vows wouldn't have-because they were honest. No promises of love and until death do us part. Just his own promise to honor her. To respect her.
And for the year they would be man and wife, it was enough.
"Lucas." She paused, but the flash of surprise and maybe even pleasure in his eyes encouraged her to continue. "You were … unexpected in my life." She couldn't help the small smile at the private meaning between the two of them. "I promise today that I will be the wife you need and won't betray you. And for as long as we are together, you won't walk alone, either."
She held out the ring she'd clutched in her hand.
"With this ring, I thee wed."
…
He was a married man.
Even as Lucas accepted more congratulations from one of the guests invited to the intimate ceremony, he sought out the woman responsible for the simple but elegant transformation of his brownstone's parlor level into a wedding venue.
Sydney Blake. Sydney Oliver, now.
His wife.
Vibrant red, orange, and gold leaves outside the floor-to-ceiling bay windows created a brilliant backdrop for his bride as she chatted with Terry Henley, the CFO of Blake Corporation and her godfather. Shoulders Lucas had bared and kissed just seven days ago gleamed like honey. The strapless lace and silk dress cupped her breasts and waist then flowed over her hips, ending in a train. Her thick caramel-colored strands looped and swirled around her head into a loose tail that appeared soft … romantic.
Gorgeous as hell.
Grim resolve settled in his chest like a great boulder in a dark, bottomless well. He'd plotted, threatened, and blackmailed to voluntarily shackle himself in a commitment he detested.
But Lucas wasn't blinded by love and denial. This union had a single purpose. And though he wanted-fucking lusted-after his wife with a need that bordered on insanity, he'd let her walk away a year from today. Before he'd put this plan into place, he hadn't planned on getting married. His experience had taught him that love, honesty, and fidelity were elusive dreams when money, power, or prenups were involved. And while Sydney hadn't married him for who he was or what he possessed, blackmail didn't make a solid foundation for marriage, either.
"For a man who just entered connubial bliss, you don't look very happy."
Lucas shot a glance at Aiden, who'd appeared at his elbow. "Shut it."
His friend shrugged and sipped from a glass of champagne. "Sydney did a beautiful job. Especially considering what she had to work with. You know, time constraints, last-minute details … blackmail."
"Aiden," Lucas growled.
"Fine, fine," he drawled, his free hand held up in surrender. "Those were beautiful vows."
Aiden arched an eyebrow as if waiting for a response or explanation from him. Lucas stared at his friend, silent. Aiden would be waiting there for a long damn time before he received one. Not when Lucas couldn't even explain to his own self why he'd written them the night before. Hell, he didn't want to analyze why.
Nor did he dwell on how the vows Sydney had declared in return had rocked him to his core.
"Okay, I'll back off since it's your wedding day." Aiden surveyed the room, a frown drawing down his dark blond eyebrows. "I thought you said Sydney's father disowned her," he murmured. "But he's here."
Yes, Jason and Charlene had attended the wedding. They'd even plastered on their fake smiles and appeared delighted in their daughter's choice of husband.
"I'd like to believe their motives are altruistic, but somehow I can't quite convince myself," Lucas drawled.
"Hmm." Aiden fell quiet for a moment, switching his thoughtful regard to Sydney. "At least she seemed happy they showed up. I guess that's all that matters. No bride should be upset on her wedding day."
True, pleasure had sparkled in Sydney's eyes when she'd spied them as she descended the staircase and entered the large living room. That moment when her face had lit up with a lovely, genuine smile-not that hated, aloof, cold caricature she usually wore-had been worth the knowledge that her parents had most likely decided to attend to save the untarnished image of a perfect family, not for her sake.
"Speak of the devil … I think your new father-in-law wants a word with you." Tension invaded Aiden's tall frame and hardened his features. Most people witnessed the affable, easygoing playboy and rarely met the man honed to razor sharpness by the cruel and pitiless Chicago streets. "You need me to stay?" he asked as Jason strolled toward them, pausing to greet guests as if he were the host and proud father of the bride.
The fury and hatred that always simmered beneath the surface surged, hot and fierce, scalding Lucas. Jason had that effect on him. "No, I'm fine," he said, voice flat. "Thank you, though." He clapped a hand to Aiden's shoulder.
"Okay." He lifted his glass for another sip, but his regard, narrowed and glittering, remained on Jason. "I'll be over there charming your wife."
Lucas snorted before inhaling and turning to face the man who'd given Lucas's life purpose-retribution.
His new wife's father.
"Lucas." Jason's loud, jovial greeting grated his ears. Particularly when one look into the other man's ice-cold hazel eyes revealed a loathing that rivaled his own. "Congratulations, and welcome to the family, son." He pumped Lucas's hand, pulling him close for a quick, hard embrace even as Lucas's stomach rebelled at "son." He hoped to hell he had lye in the kitchen. Mere soap and water wouldn't scrub away the thick, grimy coat of Jason's duplicity.
"I'm glad you and your wife could make it, Mr. Blake," he said smoothly.
"We wouldn't have missed Sydney's big day for the world. As long as she's happy, we are, too. And none of this Mr. Blake nonsense. We're family now. Please, call me Jason." Jesus Christ, the man should run for office with all the bullshit he was slinging. Jason inclined his head. "Would you mind if I tear you away from the party for a moment? There's something I would like to speak with you about. Privately."
"Of course," Lucas murmured. Feeling the weight of the interest on the two of them, he led Jason from the living room and down the stairs to the garden level of the brownstone that he'd had converted to a study, home office, and library. He strode over to the fully stocked bar. "Can I pour you a drink, Jason?"
"Cut the crap, Oliver," the other man snapped.
Sighing, Lucas tipped a finger of bourbon into a tumbler and recapped the decanter. "I suppose it's safe to say the pleasantries are over?" he mocked.
"I've been busy since you and Sydney showed up at my office with your little announcement." He spat the last word, distaste twisting his handsome features. "Raised in the South Side of Chicago by Duncan Oliver, your construction worker uncle. Paid your way to the University of Chicago by working on those construction sites beside him. Graduated summa cum laude in three years with a bachelor's degree in finance and in another two years, earned an MBA. Started your business at the age of twenty-one. Bought your first company under the Bay Bridge Industries umbrella at twenty-four. Earned your first million at twenty-five. A brilliant and formidable businessman. A real rags-to-riches story that makes wonderful copy."