Wedding The Wrong Brother: His Accidental Bride

Chapter Four

SLOANE

"Just like that, she's off the market!"

The screaming started the exact second my hotel suite door was kicked open. It was nine o'clock in the morning, and my mind felt like it was completely stuffed with concrete.

"All her girls like period!" Tessa shouted, clapping her hands right over my face as she stormed into the room. She was already fully dressed in her pastel pink bridesmaid gown, jumping up and down like she had not just spent the last forty-eight hours chugging tequila in Florida.

"And all his boys like yeaaaa!" Lila and Cassidy chimed in, dancing their way toward my bed. They were playing that viral Alton Kiing song, Fiancé Anthem, blasting it straight from a portable Bluetooth speaker. The bass hit my throbbing head in a way that wasn't pleasant at all.

"Now all she wanna say is my fiancé! Every other word is my fiancé!" Maren yelled, grabbing my left hand and waving it in the air to hype up the massive, flawless diamond engagement ring sitting there.

I pulled my hand back, burying my face deep into the pillows and letting out a muffled groan. "Please. Turn it off. I am begging you, turn it down."

"No way, bridezilla!" Tessa laughed, ripping the blankets off my legs. "It's your big day. Get your ass up!"

I dragged myself out of bed, every single muscle in my body aching. My throat was still dry, and my chest felt so heavy I could barely take a full breath.

I was forced straight into the glam chair, and for the next two hours, my world became a chaotic sensory overload. I was rotated between burning curling irons, sharp makeup wands, and clouds of strong hairspray.

On the outside, as the makeup artist finished my airbrushing, I looked like a flawless, glowing, high-society bride. But on the inside? My hands were shaking so hard that the rim of my champagne flute rattled loudly against my teeth when I tried to take a sip.

The door clicked open again, and the room went completely quiet. My mother swept into the suite, looking like royalty in her emerald green mother-of-the-bride dress. She walked over to me, placing her manicured hands on my shoulders as she looked at my reflection in the mirror.

"Oh, Sloane," she whispered, her voice thick with proud satisfaction. "You look absolutely magnificent. Do you have any idea what today means? This marriage is going to finally seal the multi-billion-dollar Vaughn family partnership forever. Our family's legacy is secure."

I swallowed hard, looking at my own empty eyes in the glass. "Right. The partnership."

"Adrian is waiting for you," she said, leaning down to press a cold kiss against my cheek. "Don't keep him waiting, darling. This is the day your real life begins."

"Yeah," I muttered, my voice barely audible. "My real life."

It didn't feel like my life was beginning. It felt like I was walking straight into a lifelong prison sentence. As the girls helped me into the heavy, suffocating white lace wedding dress, my brain kept torturing me.

It was a constant, looping replay of sensory memories from Miami. The dark-haired, broad-shouldered stranger. The smell of his expensive cedarwood cologne. The heat of his mouth. The lazy, wicked way he had called me Mrs. Trouble.

Stop it, I screamed at myself in my head. Lock it away. It was a mistake. It wasn't real. You're marrying Adrian Vaughn today. You have to be Sloane Richardson again.

By the time the limousine pulled up to the grand cathedral, I was completely numb. The church was a stunning, overwhelming display of white roses, massive wealth, and towering stained-glass windows. The pews were packed to the brim with New York's elite—politicians, billionaires, celebrities—all waiting to watch the wedding of the century.

The heavy oak doors opened. The traditional wedding march began to play, the organ notes echoing through the massive vaulted ceiling.

I took a slow, heavy step forward. My heels sank slightly into the thick white-petaled aisle as I began my long walk.

Adrian was standing waiting at the altar. He looked absolutely perfect, like a literal prince had stepped out of a fairy tale. He was wearing a crisp black tuxedo, his blond hair styled to flawless perfection, and he gave me his signature polished, golden-boy smile as I got closer. He looked like safety. He looked like the right choice.

I took another deep breath, forcing my feet to keep moving. I could do this. I could play the part.

But the exact second I reached the front of the church and stepped up to the altar, my eyes wandered to the side. I looked at the best man standing directly next to the groom.

And my entire world went up in flames.

The floor vanished beneath my feet. My breath caught so violently in my throat that I literally stumbled over the train of my dress, barely catching my balance.

Standing right there, looking devastatingly broad and lethal in a custom-tailored tuxedo, was the stranger from the Miami hotel room.

I stared at him, my face turned completely pale, the blood draining from my limbs until I felt faint. It was him. The dark hair, the sharp jawline, the whiskey eyes. There was absolutely no mistaking it.

Adrian didn't notice my silent heart attack. He smiled warmly, proudly turning to the crowd and then to me, gesturing toward the man beside him.

"Sloane, darling," Adrian said, his voice full of genuine excitement. "I am so incredibly glad he made it back in time. I want to officially introduce you to my older brother, Aleck. He just got back into the country this morning after running our family's international shipping business overseas. Aleck, this is my beautiful bride, Sloane."

Aleck.

There went my hopes of him being a doppelganger.

My mind was spinning violently. The man I had met in a crowded Miami club, the man I had let drag me into a twenty-four-hour chapel, the man I had legally married less than forty-eight hours ago... was my fiancé's older brother.

The horrific realization hit me like a freight train. I was standing at the altar about to marry a billionaire, but I was already legally married to his brother.

Aleck stepped forward, closing the small distance between us. He locked his sharp eyes onto my pale, trembling face. The church, the crowd, the music, Adrian—everything disappeared into background noise.

A familiar smirk deepened on his lips. He leaned in slightly, his dark energy completely wrapping around me, and whispered in a voice that was meant for my ears only.

"Hi, sister-in-law.”