Sinful Summer by Emilia Finn

Author:Emilia Finn [Finn, Emilia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Beelieve Publishing, Pty Ltd
Published: 2024-04-12T00:00:00+00:00

MINKA

The next day, I wander around a bedroom suite on the boat that is all dark tones. The bed. The walls. The bedspread, and all the furniture. The carpet is black, and the light shade is, too.

Everything about this room says gloom. Unhappiness. Danger.

It says Felix Malone. Which, I think, is the Malone brother who claimed this room way back when the family purchased a stupidly expensive boat and never expected Archer to marry or need to admit his financial status to the little wife.

Today, unlike most, I suppose, this dark room is shrouded in white. Gowns. Gowns. So many fricken wedding gowns, my stomach tumbles and nerves make me hesitate to touch the fabric for fear sweaty hands will mark them.

Designers have volunteered their hard work, no strings attached, no financial remuneration, and no notoriety. They don’t even get a public wedding, one where newspapers might print pictures of a mafioso’s wedding and stir up a little interest in hopes other people might covet the gown I choose and buy one for themselves.

There’s nothing in it for them. Nothing at all. And yet, as I walk a loop of the room, I count six, seven, eight, nine, ten, or more elaborate gowns. Many with trains that stretch a dozen feet. Several with glitters I suspect, though I hope I’m wrong, are encrusted with diamonds. Some have a mermaid tail, while others are completely and utterly princess. Some have no straps at all, and with a heart-shaped bust, while another goes right to a woman’s chin and highlights the wearer’s shoulders.

There’s so much happening in one room. So much fabric and tulle and silk and zippers, my hands quiver with fear and Mary, the woman who was ordered to help me, merely watches my spiral.

“I suggest you try one on, Doctor Mayet.” She, too, got the memo about my job title, and my lack of Mrs. Malone. “Just pick one at random and put it on. Once you’ve tried that, you’ll get an idea of which direction you’d prefer to take.”

“J-just pick one?” My stomach turns with dread. An existential crisis, making my blood run hotter. I have no Aubree here to help me. No chattering best friend to take the choice out of my hands and alleviate that stress. I have no damn clue if I want to look like a mermaid in a few days, or a princess straight out of a Disney classic. Do I want diamonds? Or tulle? A corset that squeezes me to death and creates that silhouette shape most women hope for?

Do I want to get married—again—in a gown that costs the equivalent of a month’s rent, or would I be more comfortable in my yoga pants and a slouchy shirt that hangs just off my shoulder?

And then there’s Archer… does he want to marry a chick in yoga pants? Has he always envisioned the princess gown and tiara and all that bullshit romantics think about?

“Doctor Mayet?”

“I can’t…” Folding my arms, I stop in the middle of the room and shake my head.

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