I Kidnapped My Ex On His Wedding Day

Chapter 4

CHRISTIAN JAMES

I was alone in my room, dressed in a black three-piece suit, seated in silence while I waited for the signal that would tell me it was time to leave for the church.

Today was my wedding day.

If someone had told me years ago that my life would come to this, I would have laughed in their face.

Her father had once been my father’s fiercest political rival. For years, the Kingsley and Beaumont families had been dragged through mud—dirty accusations, ugly words, and bitter public wars that never seemed to end.

But today, all of it was supposed to stop.

A settlement had finally been reached. A truce sealed by bloodlines instead of signatures.

To keep that fragile peace alive, this wedding had to happen.

Unfortunately, no one had bothered to ask whether I wanted it.

The door suddenly opened, and my body reacted before my mind did. I started to stand, expecting one of Dad’s men to come get me, but I stopped when I saw who it was.

My brother.

Of course it was him.

Already dressed. Already grinning. Already looking far too pleased to be my best man.

Christopher closed the door behind him and walked toward me, and the expression on his face immediately irritated me.

He was smiling like he wasn't looking at a man about to be sacrificed.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I snapped, my patience already thinning.

He looked absurdly happy, as if he weren’t standing in front of the man this whole family had practically offered up as a sacrifice.

I didn’t want any of this. But wanting it had never been part of the equation.

“I have a gift for you,” he said.

I narrowed my eyes. “What gift? And where is it?”

He had nothing in his hands.

Not a box. Not a bag. Not even a stupid card.

“Surprise,” he said, that smug grin still on his face. “You’ll see it later at the altar.”

That was enough to make something in me snap.

I stood up and smacked him on the head.

“At the altar?” I hissed. “You’re going to give me the gift at the altar? Right when the ceremony starts? What kind of i***t are you?”

He winced and clutched the side of his head. “Ow! That really suits the two of you. You’re both so violent.”

His words made me glare at him harder.

“Suited?” I repeated, my voice turning sharper. “Damn it, no matter what happens, Gretchen and I will never be suited for each other.”

Everything about Gretchen exhausted me.

The heavy makeup. The expensive perfume. The way she walked into my room like she'd already become Mrs. Kingsley before the wedding had even happened.

I had done everything I could to keep my distance. I told her I didn’t want anything to happen between us until after the wedding.

And now here I was.

And now I was only a few hours away from making it official.

The thought alone made my stomach turn.

Just imagining what would happen after the ceremony made my skin crawl.

Christopher kept talking, but I'd already stopped listening. If I could have punched his face without ruining the entire event, I would have done it already. But there were too many people around, and this was a formal occasion. I couldn’t afford to leave a mark on my own best man.

Still, I knew exactly how to shut him up.

Without another word, I opened the drawer, took out my pistol, and pointed it at him.

Violence had always been more effective than arguing.

His face changed instantly.

“Damn it, what the hell is wrong with you? Put that down. I’m your brother. Are you a psychopath?” he asked, the color draining from his face.

The wide grin vanished. In its place was a pale, stunned expression that almost made the whole thing worth it.

Go on.

Keep teasing me now.

“A little,” I said with a dark grin. “And I’ll really finish you off if you don’t take back what you said about me and Gretchen being suited for each other. I will never accept the idea of us being compatible. Even if I married her ten times, I still wouldn’t like her.”

Christopher went quiet.

Then, after a few seconds, he burst out laughing, the color slowly returning to his face.

“Who said I was talking about Gretchen?” he said between laughs. “I know you don’t like her. Don’t worry, I’ve got something for you later.”

I frowned. “If it’s not Gretchen, then who are you talking about?”

But before he could answer, there was a knock at the door.

I quickly shoved the gun into the back of my pants.

The door opened.

Dad’s men had arrived.

It was time.

Christopher stopped laughing. I stopped thinking. The room seemed to shrink around me as the finality of it all settled in.

We left my room and headed for the car waiting outside, the one that would take me straight to the church.

Straight to the altar.

Straight into the marriage I'd spent years trying to escape.