THE WEDDING
1212 Words
*Chapter 2: The Wedding*
The car that picked Lily up at 7AM cost more than her yearly salary.
Black. Tinted windows. Driver in a suit who called her "Mrs. Frost" like he meant it.
Lily sat in the backseat in a black dress they’d delivered to her apartment at 6AM. No note. Just a box.
The dress was silk. Simple. $3000 according to the tag she’d ripped off.
Her hands were shaking.
She hadn’t slept. Not after signing that contract. Not after seeing her mom’s surgery was scheduled.
"St. Michael’s Chapel, ma’am," the driver said.
"Yes," Lily whispered. "Thank you."
She was going to marry a billionaire in 30 minutes.
The man whose trash she emptied.
---
The chapel was small. White. Full of flowers that cost more than her rent.
Only 20 people. All of them in suits. All of them staring when she walked in.
Damian was already at the altar.
Black suit. No smile. Hands in pockets like this was a board meeting.
He looked up when she entered.
His eyes went over her. The dress. The borrowed heels. The diamond on her finger that still didn’t fit right.
Something flickered in his face. Surprise?
Then it was gone. Cold again.
Lily walked down the aisle alone. No father. No friends.
Her brother Jake was at the hospital with mom.
The priest started talking. Words about love and honor.
Lily heard none of it.
"Do you, Damian Frost, take Lily Evans to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do," Damian said. Flat. Certain.
"Do you, Lily Evans, take Damian Frost to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
Lily looked at him. Gray eyes. Jaw tight.
She thought of the hospital bill. Of her mom’s hand in hers yesterday.
"I do."
"Then I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."
Lily froze.
The contract didn’t say anything about kissing.
Damian stepped forward. One hand came up to her waist.
It was warm through the silk.
He leaned down. The kiss was 2 seconds. Professional. Dry.
But his thumb brushed her waist once. Just once.
And the cameras flashed.
"Mrs. Frost," the priest said.
The words hit her like a slap.
Damian’s wife.
Lily Evans was now Mrs. Damian Frost.
---
The "reception" was in a private room at Frost Tower. 30 minutes. Champagne. No cake.
Board members shook her hand. Called her "Mrs. Frost." Asked if she liked charity work.
Lily smiled and nodded. She’d spent a year being invisible. She knew how to do it.
Then she saw her.
Victoria Hale.
Ex-fiancée. Blonde. Red dress. Eyes full of hate.
She wasn’t supposed to be here.
Victoria walked straight to Lily. Smile sharp.
"Oh my god. The cleaner." Her voice was sweet. Loud enough for everyone to hear. "Damian, darling, you really couldn’t find anyone else?"
The room went quiet.
Damian stepped between them instantly. "Victoria. You weren’t invited."
"I’m family," Victoria said, not looking at him. Still staring at Lily. "Tell me, sweetie. How much did he pay you? $10,000? $50,000?"
Lily’s face burned. Her hands clenched.
Damian’s voice went cold. "Watch your mouth."
"Or what?" Victoria laughed. "You’ll marry another one? She’s a nobody, Damian. She cleans toilets for a living."
Lily opened her mouth. Nothing came out.
Damian put a hand on Lily’s lower back. Possessive. Final.
"Ms. Evans is my wife," he said. Every word clear. "And she has more class in her little finger than you have in your entire body. If you can’t respect that, leave."
Victoria’s face went red. She stormed out.
The room exhaled.
Damian looked down at Lily. "Are you okay?"
Lily nodded. She wasn’t. But she would be.
"Good," he said. "We have a dinner tonight. 8PM. Be ready."
---
The penthouse was on the 80th floor.
Lily stepped out of the elevator and forgot how to breathe.
Glass walls. Marble floors. A piano. A view of the entire city.
Her apartment could fit in the living room. Twice.
"This is... big," she managed.
"Guest room is down the hall," Damian said. He’d already taken off his jacket. Rolled up his sleeves. "Clause 7. Separate bedrooms."
"Right," Lily said. "Separate."
A woman in a suit was waiting. "Mrs. Frost, I’m Helen. I’ll be your assistant. Your schedule, your clothes, your anything."
Lily nodded, overwhelmed. "Thank you."
Damian poured himself a drink. Whiskey. "Dinner is at 8. The Morrows. Important clients. You’ll sit next to me. Smile. Answer questions about how we met."
Lily looked at him. "What’s the story?"
Damian paused. "We met... at a charity event. You were volunteering."
It was a lie. But a clean one.
"Okay," Lily said. "I can do that."
There was a long silence.
Damian studied her. Really studied her for the first time. Not as a cleaner. As his wife.
"You did well today," he said finally. "With Victoria."
Lily shrugged. "I’m used to rude people. I clean offices after parties."
It came out before she could stop it.
Damian’s jaw ticked. "You don’t have to do that anymore."
"I know," Lily said quietly. "Thank you. For my mom."
He nodded once. Then turned away. "8PM. Helen will help you dress."
---
At 7:55PM, Lily stood in front of the mirror.
The dress was red. Not like Victoria’s. Deeper. Elegant.
Hair down. Makeup done by a professional.
She looked like she belonged.
She looked nothing like the girl with a mop.
Helen knocked. "Car is here, Mrs. Frost."
The restaurant was private. Top floor. Only 6 tables.
Damian was already there, talking to an older couple.
He looked up when she walked in.
And for half a second, his mask slipped.
His eyes darkened. His hand tightened on his glass.
Then it was gone.
"Mrs. Frost," he said, standing. He pulled out her chair. "This is Mr. and Mrs. Morrow."
Dinner was 2 hours of small talk.
Lily answered questions about "how they met" with the charity story.
She laughed when Damian made a joke.
She let him put his hand on her back when they walked.
She played the part perfectly.
On the car ride home, neither of them spoke.
Back in the penthouse, Damian went to his office. Lily went to the guest room.
The room was bigger than her whole apartment. King bed. Silk sheets.
There was a note on the pillow.
`Your mother’s surgery is Tuesday. Best doctors. - D`
Lily sat on the bed. The contract was on the nightstand. 90 days.
She touched the ring.
She touched the silk dress.
90 days ago she was cleaning this man’s floors.
Tonight she sat in his penthouse wearing a $5000 dress.
Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.
`You think you belong here? You’re just the help. - V`
Lily deleted it.
She lay down on the massive bed. Stared at the ceiling.
Clause 4: No romantic involvement.
But when she closed her eyes, all she could see was Damian’s hand on her waist.
Warm. Possessive. For 1 second too long.
And Damian, in his office, poured another whiskey.
Stared at the security footage from the chapel.
Rewound it.
Watched the kiss again.
"90 days," he muttered to himself. "Just 90 days."
But his hand was still on the glass, where her waist had been
- Writer
