KEIFER POV
Three days had passed since that chaotic night in the rain.
With the wedding only four days away, time was running out fast.
We had not even gone shopping for her wedding dress yet, and knowing Jay, she would probably try to show up in a hoodie and sneakers just to spite me.
I got dressed in a casual outfit she always liked on me, picked up a massive bouquet of the exact soft pink and red roses she used to adore, and drove straight to her architectural firm.
The moment I walked through the main doors, the security guards, secretaries, and engineers bowed their heads in quiet terror.
I did not give a single damn about any of them.
I took the private elevator, marched straight to her corner office, and pushed the door open without bothering to knock.
“What the fuck, learn to knock!” she yelled, instantly jumping up from her leather chair, her face flushed with irritation.
Her words died the second her eyes locked onto me.
“W-What the hell are you doing here?” she stammered, freezing in place and pointing her drafting pencil straight at my chest like it was a loaded weapon.
She looked breathtaking.
Her dark hair was thrown up in a messy, effortless bun, a few soft strands framing her face, and her small reading glasses were perched right on the bridge of her nose.
The small desk fan was blowing softly, catching the loose hairs around her cheeks.
“Keifer?” she called out again, softer this time, taking in my clothes and the flowers in my grip.
For once, her voice did not carry any anger.
Just raw surprise and confusion.
“Here. Flowers,” I said simply, stepping forward and holding out the roses to her.
“Let’s go,” I said, catching her by the hand and gently pulling her out from behind her desk.
“Where?” she asked, blinking in surprise as her pencil slipped from her fingers onto the wood.
“Wedding dress,” I told her, not giving her a second to overthink it.
“I don’t have to come. You can just pick one out yourself,” she muttered, digging her heels in slightly, clearly trying to avoid the whole thing.
“I need your opinion too, Jay,” I answered smoothly, tightening my grip just enough to keep her moving with me.
She glared at me, her cheeks turning slightly pink, but she didn’t argue any further.
I reached down, slid my arm firmly around her waist, and guided her out of her office.
The entire floor of architects and assistants fell completely silent as we walked past, staring at the sight of the feared mafia boss walking side by side with their boss.
We took the private elevator down to the garage and walked over to my car.
When we reached the passenger side, I opened the door for her, but she paused, looking at me with that guarded, stubborn expression she always put on when her defenses were starting to crumble.
I drove us straight to an exclusive bridal boutique in the heart of the city.
I had call ahead to shut down the entire store for the afternoon, so when we pulled up to the curb, two security guards opened the double glass doors and bowed us in.
Jay stepped inside and immediately stopped, her eyes wide as she took in the endless rows of white silk, lace, and tulle hanging under crystal chandeliers.
“You rented out the whole place?” she asked, glancing at the empty fitting lounge and the nervous staff waiting with glasses of iced water and champagne.
“I don’t like sharing you with a crowd, Jay,” I said quietly, brushing a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear.
The head designer came rushing over with three assistants, nervously gesturing toward a velvet sofa.
“Mr. Watson, Miss Mariano, we have curated the top bridal collections according to your preferences. Whenever you are ready.”
“Go pick whatever catches your eye,” I told her, nudging her gently toward the racks.
Jay wandered down the aisle, her fingers trailing over the fabrics.
Her usual sarcastic guard was up, but I could see the soft, curious spark in her eyes every time she paused in front of an intricate embroidery design.
She pulled out a simple, satin A-line dress with long lace sleeves, turning around to hold it up against her body.
“What do you think about this one?” she asked, tilting her head with a small, skeptical frown.
“Too plain?”
I walked up behind her, stepping close enough that my chest hovered just inches from her back.
I reached out, my fingers curling around the velvet hanger beside her hand, while my other arm rested lightly against the small of her back.
“Nothing would ever look plain on you, Jay,” I murmured into her ear, my tone dropping into that warm, low whisper I only ever used when it was just the two of us.
“You could wear a paper bag down the aisle and I would still think you are the most stunning bride in the world.”
Jay’s cheeks flared bright red, and she quickly shoved the hanger against my chest to put some space between us.
“Don’t give me any ideas. Try to be more serious” she grumbled, though the small quiver in her voice gave her away completely.
“I am being serious,” I said with a quiet smile, catching the hanger with one hand while my free hand found hers, interlacing our fingers together.
I looked down at our joined hands, smoothing my thumb over the back of her knuckles with absolute care.
The faded purple shadow on her wrist was still visible, but the sight of my skin covering hers seemed to ease the tightness in my chest.
“Try this one on first,” I told her, my voice turning remarkably soft “I want to see how my wife is going to look standing next to me at the altar.”
Jay stared at our linked fingers, her lips parting slightly.
She looked up at my face, searching my eyes for the arrogant tease she usually fought with, but all she found was open, steady adoration.
She swallowed quietly, took the dress from my hands, and nodded toward the dressing room.
“Fine.”
While she was in the fitting room trying on the gown, I sat on the plush velvet sofa in the private lounge.
I rested my chin on my knuckles, my eyes wandering lazily over the other mannequins and displays around the room, picturing what each veil and cut would look like on her.
Ten minutes later, the soft rustle of silk pulled my attention back to the pedestal.
The heavy satin curtains parted, and Jay stepped out into the bright showroom lights.
My breath caught completely in my chest.
She looked absolutely breathtaking.
The ivory satin hugged her curves with effortless grace, flowing down into a soft train on the carpet, while the delicate floral lace sleeves framed her pale shoulders perfectly.
Her dark hair was loosely pinned up, her skin glowing under the chandelier, looking so radiant and pure that every violent, dirty part of my world felt entirely distant.
She stood on the circular platform, smoothing her hands down the sides of the fabric, her eyes flickering over to me with a nervous, hesitant glance.
“Do you like it?” she asked softly.
I did not say a word at first because my vocal cords were practically paralyzed.
I just sat there, transfixed, and nodded slowly with pure, honest admiration in my eyes.
“Well, I don’t,” she stated, completely deadpan, rolling her eyes and tugging at the neckline with an annoyed scowl.
I let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand down my face while a dry, amused smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth.
Stubborn woman.
Literally two minutes ago she was looking at the lace like she had fallen in love with it, and now she was standing on the pedestal rejecting the whole thing just to be difficult.
“What is wrong with it, Jay?” I asked, leaning back against the sofa cushions and raising an eyebrow at her.
“You look like an angel in that dress.”
“It is too tight around my ribs, the skirt feels like a parachute, and I can barely breathe,” she complained, turning to face her reflection in the three-way mirror and sticking her tongue out at herself.
“Next. Bring me something I can actually run away in if I change my mind at the altar.”
I stood up from the couch, stepping toward the pedestal with a dangerous, teasing glint in my eyes.
“You are not running anywhere on Sunday, Jasper Jean,” I murmured, stopping right at the edge of the platform and looking up at her.
“Even if you have to walk down the aisle in sneakers.”
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