Keeping Secret

Lucas, for everything he had done that drove me crazy, and all the mistakes he had made, never pretended to be something else. He had always been the wolf king. He had always been my mate. I might not agree with his methods, but he was as reliable as the passing of time.

And today I would marry him.

Because it was the right thing for the pack. But it was so much more than that…

Marrying Lucas meant an end to my own uncertainty. It meant I was his and only his. I ran my fingers over the beadwork on the front of my dress and smiled softly. The photographer snapped away. I looked past him and to my bridesmaids, and smiled at them.

“Let’s go get me married.”

Chapter Forty-Two

Once I was encased in the satin-and-beaded glory that was my wedding dress—with my thigh holster secured thanks to a quick trip to the ladies’ room with Mercedes—Kimberly let Grandmere into the suite so she could see the finished product. Judging by the tears that welled up in her eyes and the way she clutched her chest, I was guessing I looked all right.

“Oh…baby.”

“Does it look okay?”

“You look…magnifique. So beautiful.” She came over and took my hand, pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

“Grandmere, there’s someone I want you to meet.” I introduced my friends to her, and then stopped at the tall, dark-haired girl who was shuffling nervously from foot to foot. “This is Eugenia. McQueen.”

Grandmere’s gaze cut from me to the girl, then back. “This is…”

“Mercy’s other daughter.”

“Oh.”

“Hi,” Eugenia said meekly, giving a small wave.

Being low-key had never been one of my grandmere’s strongest suits. In spite of her small stature she crossed the distance between me and Eugenia and swept the tall girl into her arms, crushing her with an intense hug.

She muttered an assortment of loving greetings in French, and Eugenia responded in kind. Upon hearing her granddaughter speak in French, and Creole French no less, I think Grandmere almost keeled over and died of happiness on the spot. The most I’d been able to manage was Canadian French, and even that I botched half the time. Eugenia spoke Grandmere’s native language as only a girl born and raised in Louisiana could. They chattered to each other briefly, and Eugenia wiped away a few happy tears once Grandmere released her.

“Happy, happy day,” Grandmere said, beaming with pride.

My photographer was practically wetting himself with joy over all the warm and fuzzy family moments we were giving him to document.

“How is Lucas doing?” I asked Kimberly. If he was half as nervous and wobbly as I felt, I would get some satisfaction from knowing I wasn’t the only one.

“The boys were scheduled to get ready at his penthouse to avoid any run-ins here.” The planner shrugged. “Lucas insisted they didn’t need any assistance, so we’ll have to pray they figure out whose vest is whose and don’t mix the boutonnières up too terribly.” She gave a martyred sigh, knowing she’d be blamed if they showed up looking ridiculous. “At least we’ll have some time to fix them before he follows you in.”

Grandmere, Eugenia and Kellen were no strangers to wedding protocol when it came to royal werewolf nuptials, but I’d needed to explain to Mercedes at great length why I was going to precede Lucas up the aisle. Traditionally in most scenarios the king went first, especially when it came to meals and formal greetings.

Weddings were the one exception. The king always arrived after the bride had gone up the aisle, and was always the last to enter. So instead of me walking towards him, I would already be at the front when he came in. Kind of sneaky, if you ask me, since it meant the big reveal moment was for the groom and not the bride. But I wasn’t big on being the center of attention, so I wasn’t going to complain too much.

Kimberly had handled it beautifully, even if she hadn’t understood it herself. It’s amazing how much you can write off as an eccentricity when your client is a billionaire. I think most people suspected Lucas was just the vainer of the two of us, and no one really corrected those assumptions.

One way or the other, by the end of the night I was going to be Mrs. Lucas Rain.

It didn’t much matter which of us came down the aisle last.

The main lobby was empty, security keeping tourists out and helping escort guests to their rooms while keeping them away from the wedding areas. The Columbia Hotel was the first of Lucas’s hotels I’d ever been in, and that had been several years prior when I’d executed a few vampires in one of the four penthouses and had almost gotten thrown off the balcony. But I’d survived, and now I was here on my wedding day.

The lobby floor was clear Plexiglas over river rocks, with fresh water passing over the stones. I stopped outside the elevator to marvel at the expensive details of the lobby, which looked like a British Columbia forest had been transplanted into the middle of Midtown Manhattan.

What better place for a werewolf king to get married?

Across the street, Bryant Park was decorated for the reception, with white tents and strings of glimmering yellow lights. Security guards were everywhere, ensuring no uninvited guests crashed the party. In spite of the cool April temperatures, the light made the whole park look warmer. And if the illusion wasn’t enough, Kimberly had also brought in dozens of outdoor heaters to keep people from getting chilly.

I took a shuddering breath outside the big ballroom doors, fidgeting with the bouquet of gerbera daisies I was holding.

“Ready?” Kimberly asked.

“Does anyone ever say yes?”

“Sometimes they lie.” She smiled and straightened my veil. It didn’t cover my face, but she wanted it to frame my cheeks just so. Satisfied, she stepped back and gave a contented nod. “You’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen, Secret.”

My heart stuttered a little at the unexpected compliment. “Thank you.”

She had traded her cell phone for a headset, and she clicked a button near her ear. “We’re good to go, cue bridesmaid entrance.” Pulling me to one side so my entrance wouldn’t be ruined, she nodded to the man beside the ballroom doors, and he pushed them open when the first swell of Etta James’s “At Last” began to play.

A hush fell over the ballroom, and chairs scraped as guests turned to watch the procession. Eugenia, Kellen, Brigit and lastly Mercedes entered and made their way to the front of the room where a makeshift altar had been constructed. Kimberly pushed Grandmere and me together and after an appropriate pause spoke into her headset again. “Cue bride.”

The traditional wedding march began to play, and the sound of a full ballroom coming to their feet followed the first beats of the music.

Grandmere and I entered the room, and I walked with her up the aisle in a half-daze. On my side of the ballroom I saw familiar faces, and with each one I got a little stronger.

Keaty had come. I’d have been lying if I said I was sure he would. Beside him Nolan and—to my genuine surprise—Shane were smiling as I walked farther into the room. Holden was there too, as far to the back as he could get, and he wasn’t smiling. Ben, my brother, was at the front looking as uncomfortable as Eugenia had when she’d first arrived, but I appreciated his being there. And beside Mercedes’s boyfriend, Owen, was Detective Tyler.

I didn’t have many people in my life before I became a part of Lucas’s pack. It meant a lot that everyone I cared about was here.

I raised my chin high and smiled for all I was worth. When I got to the altar, Grandmere kissed me and took her seat while I stood next to Mercedes on the platform and glanced over the gathered crowd. Briefly I felt like I was on the set of a movie. Lucas’s side of the ballroom was so full they’d put the overflow into my almost empty half. His guests were New York royalty. Some of Hollywood’s biggest stars, actors and singers, real-estate tycoons and the elite of Manhattan’s upper crust were all here to see me marry the most eligible bachelor in the city.

Reading about it in The Times hadn’t made me understand what a big deal my wedding was. Now it sort of clicked, why Kimberly was so frantic about everything being just right. This was the goddamned social event of the season.

I was struck by a sudden case of nerves.

Lucas would handle himself perfectly. High-pressure situations were his bread and butter. But unless I was killing someone or keeping from being killed myself, I didn’t handle pressure all too well. I swallowed hard, and my palms were a sweaty mess. I wanted to wipe them off, but the only thing available was my dress, and I thought Kimberly would shit bricks if I wiped my hands on my gown.

The ballroom doors closed, and everyone found their seats, polite conversations popping up in muted tones while people waited for Lucas to arrive. On the groom’s side of the platform there were no groomsmen, though I knew Dominick, Desmond and a few other high-ranking pack members were expected to stand up for him.

Whether or not Desmond would show up was another question. Duty dictated he must, otherwise it would look like an affront to the king. But he couldn’t even stand to be in the same room with me. Would he be able to stand up and watch Lucas and me get married? Would I be able to go through with it if he was there?

More sweaty palms.

I knew nerves were a normal part of weddings, but I felt ready to throw up.

“What time is it?” I whispered to Mercedes.

“I don’t know. The Nazi photographer made me take my watch off.”

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, my five-inch heels pinching my feet uncomfortably, reminding me I should have broken the damned things in before today. I waited a few minutes, my eyes never leaving the ballroom doors. Patience was not one of my virtues. I caught the eye of a handsome A-list actor in the front row. The type known for being in high-octane action movies. I thought maybe he’d once been a wrestler. His big arms certainly suggested it.

“Hey,” I whispered, seeing the shiny gold Rolex on his wrist. “What time is it?”

He checked. “Ten fifteen.”