Clay's Unwanted Blondie

Chapter 20

๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠˙BROOKE ˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑

WHAT WAS IT THEY CALLED IT?

Right, betrayal. Like a landslide mauling you in an instant. Like a dagger being jabbed from your back by a close friend. A classic Ned Stark deja vu.

You know the whole promising you one thing and later chopping your head off without warning. If she was comparing her life to the Game of Thrones universe, then reality hadn't quite sunk in.

The hand interlocked with hers hadn't done anything either to assure her this wasn't a dream.

The same hand that had clawed her forearm telling her to seduce a man, to help the family, to stop acting like an ungrateful brat. That hand.

The same person who'd done everything humanly possible to ensure this was even happening in the first place walked by her side.

A cane in his right hand, a Zegna suit perfectly fitted on his old body and a grimace so wide it made her sick.

The gush of wind hitting her right leg as if warning her this was real, she looked up. Past the crowd of people she didn't know, past the cameras flashed from a mile away to the man standing by the isle.

She couldn't believe it.

She couldn't believe him!

She couldn't believe herself in the first place because for a minute moment in time, she'd not eaten nor slept when the man she was about to marry was fighting for his life in the hospital.

But now? Whatever feelings she had of him, no matter how small, had been extinguished like a blow of air to a flame.

Instead, she held so much resentment and distaste for him she actually wished Clay Cervantes was six feet under.

That the donuts had choked him to death. Ill of her to say but hey, who wouldn't given the situation she was under?

Dressed in a vaginal white lacy gown that might as well have exposed her nakedness, a father ,who hated her, walking her down the isle, a man she didn't love waiting for her with a growl at the end of the isle, her life was over.

"Be good. Say yes", her father kissed her cheek handing her to the devil himself.

The cameramen doing their job as if they were being paid a grand an hour to take pictures, she swallowed saliva with difficulty.

The groom was every bit the handsome devil he was. Clad in a black suit, his dark gaze fell on her before he stretched out his hand for her.

Brooklyn stared at it for a second.

She hated him for forcing her to do this.

With a bit of hope, her eyes flickered to the first row to the man she hoped would end all this shenanigans.

What she got instead was an empty seat. And next to the empty seat was Calandria dressed in a new Louis Vuitton cream colored dress. Her sister should have been the one getting married today not her!

As for Ashton?

What did she expect? That the priest would ask who objected to the marriage and Ashton would gallantly stand up and profess his love again?

How dumb she was.

This was happening and no man could be able to stop it except Clay Cervantes himself.

Gazing back at his hand, her eyes traveled to his.

"Please", she whispered.

The man she'd spent the afternoon with last week had to be inside of him somehow. The man who'd tried to talk her out of wallowing in depression had to be there.