Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Olcan escorted Bronagh to her spot beside where the bride would stand and then took his own place beside Fergus. Next, came Niall and Ronan with the other two bridesmaids. The music, a very quiet Irish waltz, ended, and the wedding march began, signaling everyone to stand and watch the bride as she walked down the aisle on the arm of her boss, the man she had chosen in absence of a father to do the honors.
Fergus, who had been holding his breath, let it slowly out as he caught sight of her making her way down the aisle toward him. She was breathtaking. He didn’t know much about wedding dresses or any dress, for that matter, but the one she was wearing seemed like it had been made just for her. He was a lucky man.
The wedding itself was a blur to him, the words coming out of the priest’s mouth somehow foreign, despite having been rehearsed prior to their big day. He managed to say his vows, but all he could really think about was how incredible she looked and how much he loved her. When the priest pronounced them man and wife, he broke into a broad smile that he felt all the way to his core.
“You may kiss the bride,” the priest told them.
Fergus stepped toward her, pulling her to him and kissing her passionately. There was applause, disrupted by the slightly tipsy Ronan yelling, “Jesus, get a room!” quickly followed by “I’m sorry, Father Mulvaney.”
Laughing, Fergus and Eimear, turned and held their arms up, hands locked in a symbol of unity. The guest cheered as they ran back down the aisle and out the front where some of the attendees had attended to rain down birdseed on them as they ran through. Climbing into the back of a limo, they rode the few miles between the church and the large hotel where the reception would take place in the ballroom.
The party was lit, with more than two hundred of their friends and acquaintances drinking and enjoying the lavish food scattered on a row of tables to one side of the dance floor. Fergus knew that no matter what else might happen in his life, this would always be the day he came back to when someone asked what the best night of his life had been.
It would always be the day that he married the bride he had stolen to keep as his own. Perhaps it hadn’t started out that way, but that was the way it had ended. They spent their first night as husband and wife dancing and singing with their friends and families, his empire already growing with the new addition Eimear was carrying in her womb.
As the night began to come to an end, they left the hotel in the hands of his brothers and her sister, rushing out to the car that once again waited for them with instructions to take them to a private jet destined for a tropical paradise where they would spend two weeks with no worries beyond what they’d have for breakfast or drink with dinner.
Olcan was in charge of the family, and Fergus had no qualms about letting him hold things together in his absence. It had been fairly quiet anyway since they’d taken down the Doyle Crime Family and returned a number of people back to their families. With the head missing in action, his drug trade had been easy to squash, and a grateful community had shown their appreciation.
Still, danger always lurked for them around any given corner, and they would remain vigilant. For now, however, Fergus hoped things would stay sweet and allow him just a little bit of time to pretend he was just like anyone else. He couldn’t wait to just be a man on his honeymoon with the most wonderful wife in the world.
He watched as Eimear stopped at the foot of the steps and looked back at the people. Many of the women had already gathered toward the front of the crowd, waiting for this moment—the time-honored tradition of the bride tossing her bouquet. Supposedly, the one who caught it would be the next to be married.
“Is everyone ready?” she called out to them, holding the bouquet up toward them as they cheered her on.
“Throw it!” someone yelled, and Eimear laughed.
She drew her arm back, trying to get a bit of power behind her launch, and threw it up in the air. It spiraled round and round as it shot into the air and then began to fall back toward the screaming crop of single women waiting to catch it.