and Ben promising to come to my rescue. My father, in his text, informed me he would bring the rings and recruit Mom to herd Matthew and ensure he showed up without incident.
I wondered if I should warn Dad Matthew might be hungover. On second thought, I wouldn’t.
Matthew could handle the Wrath of Mom if she smelled lingering alcohol on his breath.
“The replacement stylist should be here soon. I have a seamstress friend capable of performing miracles, and I’m sure I can handle the rest. If you have any concerns, let me know.”
“I might be pregnant.”
With how often my brother shacked up with his thoroughbride, I wasn’t surprised. “Have you told Matthew yet?”
“No.”
“Well, you won’t be partaking of the wine fountain. You can surprise him as a wedding gift. Congratulations. Also, that’s not a concern. Matthew loves children.” I’d consider it the one thing that might go right in the day.
“It’s probably not his. He uses condoms religiously.”
I’d seen brides with cold feet before, but none quite like Amy. I had no idea on what planet she thought she was fooling anyone; the woman didn’t have time for a tryst, and she’d spent every waking moment trying to piss me off or banging my brother.
But if she wanted to play games, I’d play. “Fortunately for you, Matthew loves children.”
Her mouth dropped open, and I snapped a photo of her to immortalize the moment I’d rendered the bridezilla speechless. In the time it took her to recover, Wolfgang arrived, his expression the ultimate mask of excitement. “Is this jewel the bride?”
Wolfgang needed to have his head examined as soon as the wedding was over. “She sure is. Work your magic, Wolfgang. I’ve a dress and bridesmaids to wrangle.”
No matter what, the only disaster at my brother’s wedding would be Amy.
Amy concocted a thousand excuses to put the brakes on the wedding, testing my limits, pushing my buttons, and ultimately forcing my hand an hour before showtime. We shared a room with Amy’s three poor bridesmaids, who would have to witness the moment I transformed into a dragon and breathed fire.
Amy’s friends had already lost their will to live, their dead eyes watching while they waited for the worst.
They had no idea how determined I could be—or how ruthless.
I’d enjoy teaching them why underestimating me was a bad idea.
I smiled, and if Amy had any sense in her head, she would’ve recognized it as a warning she was about to have her ass handed to her. “Amy, my brother spent fifty-one thousand dollars on this wedding to make you happy. Go ahead. Try to run. I’ll haul your ass to the altar myself. If you want to divorce him tomorrow, fine. That’s your problem. I don’t care if you break Matthew’s heart tomorrow. But today? You’re getting married. You wanted this fancy wedding, and if you want to be a bitch, you’ll do so at the altar. Maybe you have the integrity of a newt, but if you’re going to spit in my brother’s face, you will do so where all five hundred guests, including your father’s top investors, can witness how unreliable and petty you really are. So. Are you walking with your father down the aisle? The other option is a literal ball and chain. I’m sure the ladies wouldn’t mind helping me lug it to the altar.”
Amy’s mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened to the point she ran risk of them popping out of her head. Her friends gasped.
The pretty blonde, a woman I believed had more money than sense, smirked, and her expression led me to believe I’d misjudged Kate. At least, I thought her name was Kate. She’d wisely dodged most of the preparations.
“It weighs eighty pounds and cost me a small fortune.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Amy whispered, and I savored the doubt in her tone.
“I dare. Go on. Try me. I’m in shorter heels, a better dress, and I’ve already requested backup. And if that isn’t enough to convince you, I’ve made a list of every expense leading up to your special day. I have your father’s cell phone number and his personal email address. Nice man, your father. It wouldn’t take me long to expose everything.”
Amy paled, and only her obsessive-compulsive suntanning disorder kept her from matching her dress. “You wouldn’t.”
“I worked too damned hard on this wedding to watch you ruin it by refusing to go to the altar like some spoiled brat who is just realizing life is work. If you want to