The room smelled of white roses and regret.
Juliet stood in front of the mirror, her reflection wrapped in ivory satin and lace. Her wedding gown fit perfectly, every stitch a testament to a union she didn’t want. Her hair was pinned up in delicate curls, her veil trailing behind her like a ghost. She looked like a dream.
But her eyes—her eyes gave her away.
They were wide. Wild. Desperate.
A soft knock on the door snapped her out of her trance.
She didn’t turn. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
The door creaked open anyway.
“I never cared much for rules,” came the voice. Deep. Velvet smooth. Dangerous.
Her breath hitched. Her hands gripped the edge of the vanity.
“Elijah,” she whispered.
He stepped into the bridal suite like he owned it—like he had every right to be there. Dress
