Chapter 2 - A BRIDE IN TWELVE-DOLLAR SNEAKERS
Our wedding took place in a private chapel outside Chicago.
No enormous guest list.
No white roses.
No romantic vows.
Just Adrian.
Me.
Thomas Reed.
Two witnesses.
And a priest who looked as though he had been instructed not to ask questions.
I wore a simple ivory dress.
Adrian wore a charcoal suit.
His wheelchair was black, custom-built, and more expensive than my car.
When the priest asked whether I took Adrian as my husband, I looked at him.
He was watching me.
Not the priest.
Not the witnesses.
Me.
“I do,” I said.
His jaw tightened.
Then he answered.
“I do.”
The priest pronounced us husband and wife.
Adrian looked at me.
“May I?”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Kiss you.”
I laughed softly.
“You're asking permission?”
“Your condition.”
My heart did something inconvenient.
I leaned down.
He kissed my cheek.
Warm.
Gentle.
Unexpected.
Then whispered:
“Welcome to the Vale family, Claire.”
I smiled.
“Should I be worried?”
His eyes darkened.
“Probably.”
Outside the chapel, a line of black SUVs waited.
Adrian's security chief, Marcus Kane, opened the door.
I looked at the vehicles.
Then at Adrian.
“Do you always travel like you're invading a country?”
He smiled.
“Only on weekdays.”
May you like
I laughed.
And for the first time, I saw the guards smile too.
