Chapter 1 Kiss The Bride

Chapter One: Kiss The Bride

If her mother were here, she'd probably cry at the sight of her daughter in lace and love.

But her mother wasn't here.

And Naomi wasn't sure if what she felt was excitement... or something.

She felt Damien's arm slip gently around her waist as they stood before the officiant. Naomi gripped her bouquet tighter-not to stop herself from tripping, but to anchor herself to reality.

This was real.

She was married.

Her heart thudded beneath layers of satin and lace, catching in her throat when the officiant's voice echoed, "You may now kiss the bride."

Damien turned toward her, his hand brushing her cheek before he leaned in.

His lips were warm, slow, and patient against hers. The room erupted in applause, but Naomi barely heard it. It was like the world had gone quiet for just a second, and it was only the two of them.

"You're doing great, Mrs. Everhart," he whispered against her lips as they pulled apart, his voice low and teasing.

She smiled, cheeks blooming with warmth. "You make that sound like you've been waiting forever to say it."

"I have," he said, that charming grin sliding into place.

She believed him.

He had a way of saying things that made her feel... precious. Like she mattered.

When they finally pulled apart, Naomi's eyes flickered across the crowd-and landed on her father.

He sat stiffly at the family table like he had every right to be there.

Her smile faltered for the briefest second. She needed someone to walk her down the aisle. She just hadn't wanted it to be him.

But there he was-silent, unreadable, and still pretending to be the father she needed.

And then her gaze slid one seat over.

Empty.

That seat wasn't supposed to be empty.

It should've been her mother's.

She blinked quickly, willing the heat behind her eyes to settle. You're not allowed to cry today, Naomi told herself.

Her mother would've wanted her to be happy. She would've been the loudest one clapping. The first one crying.

She felt her chest squeeze at the memory of one of their late-night talks.

"Your wedding day should feel like the start of your forever, not the end of anything else."

Petals floated down from the ceiling, a blur of soft color. Naomi's smile widened-then flickered just slightly when her eyes landed on the empty seat beside her father.

That seat wasn't supposed to be empty.

It should've been her mother's.

She blinked quickly, looking away. You're not allowed to cry today, Naomi told herself.

Her mother would've wanted her to be happy. She would've been the loudest one clapping. The first one crying.

She felt her chest squeeze at the memory of one of their late-night talks.

"Your wedding day should feel like the start of your forever, not the end of anything else." Her mother's voice echoed through her heart, wrapping around her tighter than any hug.

Naomi pushed a breath out and forced her gaze back to Damien, who was leading her toward the reception hall.

Focus on now, she thought.

Focus on this.

The reception was a blur of champagne, soft laughter, and camera flashes.

Naomi caught glimpses of Rachel-her best friend-flitting between tables like a glittering butterfly in a satin dress.

Thirteen years of friendship meant Naomi could spot Rachel's chaos from a mile away-heels clicking, eyes gleaming, and trouble practically radiating off her.

Rachel swooped in for a hug. "Look at you, Mrs. Everhart. You're glowing like you just won the lottery and the man."

Naomi grinned. "I think the man was the lottery."

Rachel let out a dramatic sigh. "Ugh. Disgusting. I love it. But also-you better text me if the yacht has a chocolate fountain."

"Rachel," Naomi laughed, "It's not that fancy."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "You married a billionaire, Naomi. Everything's that fancy now."

Before Naomi could reply, a warm hand slid around her waist. Damien leaned in from behind, lips brushing just close enough to her ear to make her shiver.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "If you keep looking this beautiful, I might skip the honeymoon and lock us in a room right now."

Naomi's cheeks flamed. Rachel let out a scandalized cackle.

"Okay! I'm officially leaving before I need therapy," Rachel said, throwing her hands up.

Naomi could barely look up. Damien just smirked, clearly pleased with himself.

She was still blushing when Damien led her onto the dance floor, his hand splayed gently across her lower back.

"You look like you're thinking again," Damien said as they swayed.

"I always think," she teased. "Someone's gotta overthink us into forever."

He grinned, pulling her closer. "Just don't overthink tonight. Let it be perfect."

"Perfect might be too much to ask for," she said, smiling up at him.

"Then let's make it unforgettable."

And for a while... it was.

From the stolen glances, to the clinking glasses, to the soft kisses when no one was looking-Naomi felt like she was floating inside a bubble no one could pop.

As they headed toward the exit, Damien's hand never left the small of her back - steady, claiming, like she was his entire world.

But just as they passed one of the side tables near the door, Damien's gaze flickered down.

"Hold on a second," he said, reaching for a small white envelope lying alone on the table.

Naomi barely noticed. She was too busy feeling dizzy and giddy and a little like she might explode from happiness.

Damien turned the envelope over in his hand, curious. "No name," he mused, sliding it casually into his pocket. "We'll check it later."

He smiled at Naomi again, tugging her hand in his.

If only he had known.

If only he hadn't picked it up.

Because the real honeymoon was about to end before it even began.