Ariadne
Tears welled up in my eyes when I saw my sister in her wedding gown. She was an image of perfection, radiant as the sun. With her golden hair tied up in a simple chignon, some loose strands framing her face and pink flowers weaved through, cobalt blue eyes shining bright, and lips the same pink as her flowers, Bella looked mesmerizing, a duchess of the highest degree.
"Oh Bella," I sighed, trying to catch my breath. "You are a vision. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life."
"Stop crying, you're going to make me cry," she said, clutching my hands and pulling me into her arms. I hugged her carefully, not wanting to ruin a single part of her stunning dress.
"Are you happy?" I asked, my voice softer than intended.
"Of course I am," she replied. "I'm marrying the love of my life."
Happiness surged through my chest. The only man I'd ever think was good enough for my sister was Francis Duval, and he deserved the entire goddamn world. Seeing as my sister was the world, it seemed fitting they'd be together.
I stroked her cheek slowly. "Promise me you'll still pick up my calls even though you're a married old lady now."
Bella scoffed. "I'm an old nothing and don't say stupid things, Ariadne."
My sister and I shared a teary laugh. When my father walked into the room, everyone stepped away from the bride–aka his favorite child–making a straight path for him.
"Bella," he said, walking over and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "You are too beautiful to even touch. My precious."
"Never felt like more of a middle child," I mumbled and everyone laughed, blissfully unaware that my statement had genuine resentment hidden in it.
I hadn't talked to my father since my outburst at dinner despite his numerous attempts to speak to me since then. There was nothing he could say that would change my mind. No one else had addressed the meltdown either, except for a kind phone call from Anthony to make sure I was alright.
Something had happened after I walked out of the apartment, because Dad laid off and didn't belittle me much anymore. We were all just pretending nothing happened.
"I love all my children equally," he said—or more accurately, lied.
"Sure," Christian interjected, stepping into the room and voicing my thoughts out loud.
His entrance made everyone immediately fall quiet. My brother commanded every room he walked into.
"You love the girls a lot more than me. Their nicknames are my angel and my precious. That's kind of hard to beat."
He looked at Dad angrily, but his eyes softened when they fell on Bella, and he tilted his head, mouthing gorgeous in her direction. I just watched them, because my siblings were my favorite people in the world and I knew just how hard this was going to be for Christian. He'd lived his life protecting the two of us from everything bad in the world. He always thought everything left him. And now, Bella was leaving home too.
"Tell me now, do you want to run?"
"Huh?" Bella and I asked simultaneously.
"If you need a get-away car, I will drive you out of here now. Just say the word, everything else be damned. He's one of my best friends but you're my priority."
The room reverberated with laughter yet again as she kissed Christian on the cheek. "I'm sure, big brother."
He smiled a little sadly, as if he just realized his sister was leaving home and pressed a long kiss to her forehead. "Alright then, little sister, let's go get you married."
"You're so gonna miss me," she winked.
My brother let out a breath of air that looked pained. "I am. And I'm going to need a drink right about now before I do something crazy like lock you up in your bedroom forever and never let you leave home."
Bella patted his cheek, unbothered, and handed him a glass of Armand de Brignac Brut Gold.
His face contorted. "Why are you drinking cheap ass champagne on your wedding day?"
"That's a $7000 bottle," someone said in a soft voice because the only person in the world who would think a $7000 bottle of champagne was cheap was Christian James Ryder.
He looked at Bella quizzically. "That's it?"
Bella raised a brow, dusting his perfect suit off. "You can buy me Dom Pérignon and send it to my house."
Christian nodded like the $50,000 charge didn't bother him–because it wouldn't. "Consider it done, but only if you'll stay home."
Bella laughed and excused herself for final touches while my brother shot me an approving smile. Then, his eyes fell on Robyn and he froze—visibly sucked in a breath as he walked over to her. I was pretty sure it physically hurt both of them to be around one another, no matter how nicely they acted externally.
"Hi," my brother said carefully.
"Hi, Christian," she responded, blowing some hair out of her face.
"You look beautiful," he said softly.
She, on the other hand, wasn't making eye contact with him at all. "You say the sweetest things, Christian Ryder."
Reaching his hand out, he tucked her hair behind her ear. Finally, she met his gaze. "You're worth saying them to, Robyn Hale."
She didn't say anything further and it almost looked like she was going to cry. My brother's fists curled up, but he shook his head, spun around, and pushed out his elbow for Bella to take.
I shot Robyn a wistful smile and readjusted my emerald green off the shoulder dress in the mirror one last time before following the procession and taking my place at the front. As part of my maid of honor duties, I clutched Francis' ring in my hand and Robyn took her place by me.
Directly opposite us, Francis stood—shockingly, nervous and I threw him a reassuring smile. He smoothed his light pink tie—naturally, my sister's favorite color had to be incorporated into the wedding in every which way. Only she could make a man like Francis wear that color on his wedding day.
"Please tell me she's walking down the aisle," he said and I swallowed my laugh, nodding.
"Having doubts? That's unlike you. You said you'd one day be married to her nearly 15 years ago."
"This is true. I haven't been wrong so far," Francis grinned. "Plus, not many people can handle the Isabella Ryder. I hardly fall into that category."
He was right. No one could handle my sister. She was a complete boss.
Besides, I'd never seen anyone as perfect for Francis Laurent Duval as Isabella Marie Ryder. They were so perfect, so beautiful, and their love was so goddamn pure, it made me believe in the concept.
"I love you," I whispered. "But if you hurt my sister, I will annihilate you."
"I know," he chuckled.
"Please tell me your best man has her ring?" I asked him.
Francis nodded in Damon's direction and the world stopped spinning. His cold, menacing eyes were trained on mine, his face devoid of expression. His eyes didn't look like they just wanted to check me out anymore; instead, they seemed almost human. Maybe seeing me cry and witnessing my pathetic family had softened him up toward me.
Despite the frigidness in his demeanor, every single part of him was wickedly perfect from the meticulously set hair to his strong eyebrows, sharp nose, and edged jawline. He was reminiscent of Adonis in a tux but if Adonis could kill you in half a second. There was a distinct lack of emotion in his face, and yet he still looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine or plastered on billboards for Armani. I was almost sure the people who drop dead around him solely lose their life because of the height of his cheekbones.
The man had never paid this much attention to me in the 28 years I'd known him and suddenly, I felt the urge to hurl myself off a cliff to avoid his undivided gaze. He even came to Central Park in the middle of the night just because I was upset and stayed with me to keep me from falling apart. Our relationship confused the fuck out of me but every time I looked at him, I felt like all the air was sucked out of the room and I was going to pass out.
Ascending music put me out of my misery, and we all turned our attention to my beautiful sister making her way slowly down the aisle, resting a gentle arm on my father's.
The ceremony was as beautiful as the bride and the happy couple's vows brought me to tears. They spoke in English for the most part, but some was in French, a personal moment for both. It took a lot for Francis to speak outwardly about his emotions—he just wasn't that kind of guy but at the end of his speech, I nearly sobbed from happiness.
"The first time I saw you, I knew you were made of diamonds, Bella. You were too pure, too good, too perfect for this world. You taught me how to live. You taught me how to love. You taught me everything. Without you and all your sparkle and all your pink, my world would be the darkest place. Je t'aime, Isabella Marie Ryder. Jusqu'à mon tout dernier souffle. Je suis à vous, mon parfait petit papillon."
They were so perfect. They fit so well. When he brushed a hand across her cheek, my sister started crying. Predictable.
Robyn's arm linked into mine as she leaned on my shoulder, tears streaming down her cheeks. It was surreal—two of us were getting married. I rested my cheek on the crown of her head until we left to the grand hall for the reception.
Having planned every single corner of the reception in true Ryder fashion, everything was loud, pink, ostentatious, and glimmering–just the way my sister liked it. I was absolutely exhausted by the time I could rest my feet and took a seat by the younger Hale sibling.
"You did an amazing job, Ariadne," she smiled as I plucked a strawberry and ate it all at once. The fine dining portions Bella could survive off were not my style. I could see an extra-large pizza in the near future just for me.
"Aw thank you. None of it is my style, of course but what Bella wants, Bella gets," I winked at her.
"You wouldn't have planned something like this for yourself?" She asked as I rested my elbows on the table.
"I don't think so. It's too... shiny. I'd like something simpler. What about you?"
"I like this glimmer. I'm a sucker for it," she smiled sheepishly. "But with the way my life is going, I doubt I'm getting married anytime soon."
"Why?" I stared at her quizzically. Robyn was a catch. In every sense of the word.
"Apart from the fact that Damon has scared every male in New York away. Being Damon's sister is a curse and a blessing."
"Trust me, I know. Christian is the same. Less deadly, probably, but still the same." I rolled my eyes. "Why don't you go dance?"
"I did. One dance," she nodded.
"With whom?"
Her face turned bright red when she said, "Christian."
I bit back a smile. Christian never danced with anyone unless Bella forced him to at her fancy company events. But, no matter what, he always always always danced at least one dance with Robyn.
"Well, I hope Christian was a decent dancer."
"He is," she smiled. "He always has been."
"Good, I'm glad," I said. "Your brother didn't kill Christian?"
She shook her head, amused that I would think Damon would ever hurt not only his oldest friend but also the man who used to drive an hour out of the city every single week to get Robyn the cinnamon rolls with extra icing she liked from one specific bakery.
I laughed. "Your brother is all talk. He wouldn't do a thing."
She raised a brow. "How do you know?"
"I've seen the way he is around you, Bella, and Maria. He's a total softie."
Those blue eyes of hers twinkled. "He would be to you too if you ever gave him a chance."
I didn't get to ask her what that meant because Dean walked over to us, those arctic blue eyes pinned on the Italian artist next to me. Her smile vanished immediately as she stared intently at her table napkin, which, apparently had suddenly become in great need of refolding.
"So this is what it's like to be a Ryder," Dean drawled. "This has to be the most shiny wedding I've ever been to."
"Have you met Bella Ryder?" I asked, grinning.
"Touché," Dean chuckled. And then turned to Robyn to say, "You look stunning, Robyn." She froze, her eyes darting between the two of us.
"Doesn't she?" I offered, giving her time to recuperate from this apparently jarring compliment.
Robyn nearly stepped on my foot before turning back to Dean. "Thank you. You look very nice as well."
He shrugged. "Everyone looks good in a suit. Where is your brother, anyway?"
Dean looked around the large hall and anxious not to let his attention turn away from Robyn, I spoke up yet again.
"I'm sure he's punching someone or breaking noses somewhere, Dean. But Robyn was just telling me how much she wanted to dance, actually." I felt a pinch in my side and swatted her hand away.
"Is that right?" He raised an eyebrow as hope flickered in his gaze. It was clear he was really into her and she liked him. Whatever I could do to push them along would be great.
Robyn stammered, blowing some hair out of her face. "Oh, not to worry, I–"
"Won't you dance with me, Robyn?" He gave her a sinful smirk, dropping his voice to an alluring pitch.
He extended an arm out to her and I didn't even try to hide my grin as she gingerly placed her tiny hand in his.
"Of course," she whispered in that honey-sweet voice.
Shooting me a death glare, she walked onto the dance floor and I watched them sway together, feeling incredibly triumphant. The awkward middle school movements fell into a smoother step when he made her laugh a couple times and my heart warmed seeing my best friend happy. He looked infatuated, as if the sudden proximity just made him realize he was the guy everyone in the room hated right now because he was dancing with the most stunning girl in the room who wasn't wearing a white dress.
"Setting up my sister?" I heard behind me and didn't bother to turn around, confident I would lose my ability to speak if I did.
Damon's voice made its way straight to my stomach, wringing it into a bundle of nerves. Picking up the champagne flute resting on my table, I shrugged.
"I didn't have to. She's a beautiful woman, Hale. She can do whatever she wants. I don't have to force her."
"I never said you forced her. But this is probably the most intimate contact those two have ever been in and he seems to be enjoying it far too much for my liking."
Turning back, I studied his expression as he stood behind me, cold eyes narrowed onto his sister, undoubtedly thinking of ways to kill Dean Jacobs. The fatal expression on his face made him no less attractive. Laughing softly, I shook my head and turned back around.
"Honestly, Hale. You could loosen up a bit. I haven't seen you on the dance floor at all tonight."
"Been looking for me, have you?" His voice was closer now and I felt the warmth of his body radiating onto me.
Before I could stop myself, I leaned into him slightly and the skin on my bare back crawled at his hard chest. His lips touched the top of my ear, sending cold shivers down my spine in memories and I tried not to let it show.
"I just wondered what the rising king of the underworld looks like when he's human. No need to get cocky," I managed to retort.
"Is that right?" His chin barely touched my shoulder now, leaving a trail of heat everywhere his scruff touched my bare skin. "All you have to do is ask."