THE WRONG VOW: My Perfect Husband

Chapter Five: The Vote

Elizabeth didn't speak, she couldn't bring herself to.

The words hung between them.

“For the rest of your life.”

She searched Damien's face, waiting for the slightest sign that this was some twisted joke.

There wasn't one.

She let out a short laugh.

"No."

Damien said nothing.

"I said no."

"I heard you."

"You don't seem to understand."

"I do."

She took a step toward him.

"I'm leaving."

"You'll try."

"I'm not trying."

She brushed past him and headed for the front door.

The handle wouldn't move yet she tried again but it was locked.

She turned to another door.

That one was locked too.

"So that's your idea of hospitality?"

"The house is secure."

"It's a prison."

"If that's how you want to see it."

She spun around.

"No. That's what it is."

Before Damien could answer, the council room door opened.

The butler appeared again.

"My lord."

Damien looked over.

"They're ready."

He glanced back at Elizabeth.

"I'll have someone show you to your room."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Then stay here."

He walked past her.

Elizabeth grabbed his arm and he stopped.

She hadn't expected him to.

For a second, neither of them moved.

"I want answers."

"So do I."

She frowned.

"What does that mean?"

"It means Isabelle disappeared less than twelve hours ago."

His voice stayed calm, but there was something behind it now. He looked frustrated.

"The council wants the wedding to continue."

"My family will be looking for me."

"I know."

"They'll come here."

"I know."

"They'll tear this place apart."

His eyes met hers.

"Well, they'll try."

The confidence in his voice annoyed her.

She let go of his arm.

"You're unbelievable."

"So I've been told."

He stepped into the council room, the doors shutting close behind him.

Elizabeth stood in the hallway, staring at the carved oak panels.

She could hear voices inside, but she couldn't make out anything they were discussing.

Mrs. Ashcombe appeared a moment later.

"Miss McLauren."

Elizabeth looked at her.

"I'm not in the mood."

"I know."

"Then why are you here?"

"To show you your room."

"I've already said no."

Mrs. Ashcombe smiled faintly.

"You're welcome to stand here all day."

"I might."

"I wouldn't recommend it."

"Why not?"

"The council has a habit of making decisions that affect everyone nearby."

Elizabeth folded her arms.

"Cryptic seems to be the language people speak in this house."

Mrs. Ashcombe laughed quietly.

"I can't argue with that."

Elizabeth studied her.

"You've worked here for a long time."

"Thirty-four years."

"So tell me."

Mrs. Ashcombe waited.

"Is Damien always like this?"

She smiled.

"Quiet?"

"And impossible."

"He wasn't always."

Elizabeth caught that immediately.

"What changed?"

Mrs. Ashcombe looked toward the council room.

"Life."

Before Elizabeth could ask another question, a sharp voice echoed through the doors.

"No."

Another answered.

"The agreement must stand."

Someone struck the table hard enough for the sound to carry into the hallway.

Elizabeth looked at the closed doors.

"They're voting."

Mrs. Ashcombe nodded.

"They've probably started."

"Voting on what?"

"You."

Elizabeth's stomach tightened.

Inside the council room, twelve people sat around a long mahogany table.

Each chair bore the crest of one of the Great Houses.

Damien remained standing.

An older man with silver hair looked around the room.

"The facts are simple."

He folded his hands.

"The bride disappeared."

Charles Ashbourne leaned back.

"That's one way of putting it."

"Do you have a better one?"

"No."

The chairman continued.

"The alliance cannot fail."

Another woman spoke.

"Not after three years of negotiations."

A man across the table nodded.

"If the marriage doesn't happen tomorrow..."

He didn't finish the sentence.

He didn't need to.

Everyone in the room already knew.

Charles broke the silence.

"The question isn't whether the wedding proceeds."

"It's whether Elizabeth McLauren takes Isabelle's place."

Several heads turned toward Damien.

The chairman spoke first.

"Lord Valmont."

Damien looked up.

"Do you object?"

The room waited.

He answered without hesitation.

"Yes."

A few eyebrows rose.

Charles wasn't surprised.

"You object to the substitute bride?"

"I object to kidnapping an innocent woman."

The chairman's expression hardened.

"That wasn't the question."

"It should be."

Another member leaned forward.

"The alliance matters more."

Damien looked directly at him.

"To you."

"To all of us."

"No."

Silence filled the room.

Damien rested both hands on the back of his chair.

"If Isabelle is alive..."

He looked around the table.

"...then she's the woman this agreement was made with."

"And if she isn't?"

No one answered.

The chairman finally spoke.

"We don't have time."

Damien's jaw tightened.

"You've had twelve hours."

"We have less than twenty-four before tomorrow's ceremony."

Charles sighed.

"He's right about one thing."

Everyone looked at him.

"We're rushing this."

The chairman's voice stayed firm.

"We don't have the luxury of patience."

Another vote was called.

Hands rose around the table.

One after another.

Charles looked disappointed and Damien looked away.

The chairman counted silently, then nodded.

"The motion passes."

No one celebrated or made any toast, their faces remained rigid.

The chairman looked directly at Damien.

"The wedding will proceed."

He slid a sealed envelope across the table.

"Your instructions."

Damien didn't touch it.

Outside, Elizabeth paced the hallway as every minute felt longer than the last.

She stopped beside one of the tall windows overlooking the grounds.

The rain had finally stopped.

A black SUV rolled through the gates.

Another followed behind it.

Then another.

She frowned.

"More guests?"

Mrs. Ashcombe joined her.

"No."

"What then?"

"They're security."

Elizabeth looked at her.

"For a wedding?"

Mrs. Ashcombe didn't answer.

The front gates closed behind the vehicles.

A second later, every light mounted along the perimeter wall switched on.

Even though it was barely afternoon.

Elizabeth watched men in dark suits spread across the estate.

Some headed for the main house while others disappeared into the gardens.

One climbed into a security tower she'd completely missed earlier.

The entire estate was locking down.

A cold feeling settled in her stomach.

This wasn't preparation for a wedding.

It was preparation for something else.

The council room doors opened.

Damien stepped out first.

He looked straight at Elizabeth.

She already knew.

She could see it in his face.

"The vote didn't go your way."

He didn't answer immediately.

Finally, he said,

"No."

She swallowed.

"What happens now?"

He looked at the sealed envelope in his hand.

Then back at her.

"They've given me twenty-four hours."

Her heart began to race.

"To do what?"

Damien's voice was quiet.

"To convince you to become my wife."