These two weeks were bustling for her, with various meetings discussing her wedding. Though she seemed disheartened, she told them about her allergy to lavender, so they avoided that. The brother had taken her to a doctor's appointment they soon put her on birth control.
They filled the room with photographers, makeup artists, hairstylists, dressmakers, and guards. A man was working with her hair, styling it into an elegant bun. "You have very silky hair, lady," the hairdresser commented while putting some bobby pins securing the hairstyle. Soon they put some hair spray to set the hairstyle.
"You are looking perfect," the makeup lady grinned, applying some higher on her button nose. Iris wouldn't lie. It felt like she was a royal, getting three people working on her at one time. The worker admired her beauty. Very few looked this gorgeous with minimal makeup. Iris had taken care of her skin very well.
Each one was very attentive and careful with their work. They were truly experts in their respective fields.
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They styled her hair in a low bun while they kept the makeup minimal, romantic and fresh with a rosy touch, while they added wine color lipstick on her plump, moist lips. They kept her nails simple and elegant, matching the look they were going for. Luxurious yet elegant. A woman helped her into her fairy-like shoes. They were custom-made for her.
She wore diamond earrings which were once owned by a Victorian queen. They had gone to lengths to get that piece just to make the look come together. "Perfect," the stylist clasped her hands, admiring the bride. She looked surreal.
The brother sure had spent a fortune on her.
They were showering her with praises and best wishes. She smiled and nodded. Just the difference this time was her smile was not real.
Her palms were sweaty; she was nervous. She felt as if she was going to have an anxiety attack. "It will all be good," one female in her 40s comforted the young girl. She could observe the anxious look of the soon-to-bride. She pressed her shoulder in assurance.
Every bride felt uneasy before getting married. It was normal.
They didn't know the reason for her uneasiness, though.
The media had gone crazy after hearing the news of- the most eligible bachelors of the country were getting married. That also to the same girl. Many companies tried to find who the lucky girl was, but they could find a single thing. If someone wrote anything malicious about Iris saying she was a slut marrying two guys. The company ended up being bankrupt or sued. So they took all the negative articles down. No one dared to offend the Sinclair brothers.
Flint's Father came and became the man to walk her down the aisle, while Rhea became the maid of honor. She looked at him guiltily. His son was kidnapped because of her. Understanding her gaze, he let out a helpless sigh. "You are a victim, too. I understand." he didn't hate her but a part of him wanted his son away from her. He cared more about his son's well-being than their friendship. It had been three weeks since he had seen his son.
