Craving Oblivion (New York Billionaires Book 3)

31| Bride

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Bride

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Chapter 31: Bride (Zarah's POV)

I stayed seated in my seat while the voices of our guests swarmed around, echoing outside. Alessia and Mom just left moments ago to take their seats and my Dad was still here, waiting for the perfect moment to walk me down the aisle. The perfect moment meant a confirmation from security that it was safe to proceed. 

"Is this really necessary?" I questioned, lifting my hand to touch my hair but stopping when I remembered how many swats Alessia gave me for messing up the veil repeatedly. I pulled my hand down. 

"Of course, it's necessary," Dad said, glancing at me. After confirmation from the last security guard we had stationed, we were ready to go. Linking my arm with my father's, we headed outside and around the flowerbeds, up the small staircase that stopped behind the double oak wood doors that led to the garden, walking past all the guards. "You seem much calmer now than you did this morning," he mused, patting my hand. 

"I had a drink," I shrugged, shooting him a grin as he stopped abruptly and stared at me in shock. "Or two," I whispered as we continued walking. 

"I hope you're joking, mia cara," he exhaled as we reached the doors. 

"I guess you'll never know," I chuckled, greeting Scott with a nod before he pushed the double doors open. My breath hitched in my throat as I stared at the crowd seated on either side of the aisle while flowers cleared a path for me to walk along. "This is the guest list?" I whispered. 

"You approved it, honey," Dad laughed softly as he began steering me down the aisle while I dragged my feet behind me. 

"Yeah. Before two hundred people were added to it, apparently," I whispered, my eyes scanning the crowd before reaching the altar. The doors closed behind us with a loud thud and everyone turned in their seats. A shaky breath left me before my eyes met Logan's as he turned around, his hands maintained behind his back as he faced the crowd, faced me. 

"Forget the crowd, Zarah," my father whispered, "just find your finish line." 

Logan. He's my finish line.

Each step forward I took, Logan's eyes remained locked in mine, lazily drifting down from my head to toe, taking in the wedding dress. I caught the slight twitch of his eyebrows before his gaze lifted back to mine. 

Either I seemed that horrified or he sensed it just by looking at me, but he took in a slow breath, his chest rising as he lifted a hand to it. Instinctively, I inhaled with him, our chests collapsing with a slow exhale as I reached him, walking through the flowered aisle to the arch created behind him, decked out in white roses with two long sheer curtains fanned out and reaching the ground, creating the perfect background, the perfect altar. 

It was all so fucking perfect, I couldn't decide if I hated that wedding planner for stealing my opportunity or loved her for getting everything right, just the way I wanted it. I handed off my bouquet, letting go of the white and blush-colored roses that were decked out in pink and white pearls, tied off with a champagne ribbon.