1.

Jasmine.

I fucked up, big time, and this is the last place I should be. 

I force a smile, standing in the audience in the same silver gown as yesterday. With a wine glass in hand and a faint smile on my lips, I nod to every pair of eyes that looks past me. But inside, I’m screaming, and my heart is about to explode. 

“Jasmine…” someone whispers behind me, drawing my attention. 

Betty! Oh thank fuck! 

I bolt, grabbing her by the arm and heading to the restroom. She doesn’t say a word; she just follows. 

I shut the bathroom door behind me, locking us both inside. 

“What the fuck did you do, Jas?” she snaps at me, clearly not on my side. “You reek of alcohol, and what perfume is that?” she adds, that overprotective, motherly tone slipping out. 

“Fuck Betty, I’m dead…” Those are the only words that seem to leave my lips. I head for the mirror, and it completely explains why everyone had been staring. 

I look like a mess. My makeup is smeared, probably because I woke up naked in a hotel room with no recollection of who I was with after wandering off from the bachelorette party last night. 

Now I feel off. Off in an awkwardly embarrassing way. Off between my legs. 

I grab the bag Betty brought in, pull out the makeup kit as I try to fix myself up. 

“You were right, I shouldn’t have agreed to come here. I’m drowning in debt, and I spent my last dime flying to Singapore for a mother who thinks I'm a failure.” I nag, fixing my makeup, clearly trying to hide what’s really eating me up inside.

“Ugh…” she groans tiredly. “This again, come on Jas, you’re an adult now, you can’t keep having mummy issues. Pull up your big girl panties.” 

It’s working. Fuck. I can’t let her know. 

“It’s not fair… You should see the way they all stared at me, in their pesky, fancy rich gowns, and… and the posh way they hold their glasses. They think Violet is better than me, and I keep proving them right.” I continue to nag, as I slip into the new dress she brought. 

She snatches the dress from behind, and just when she’s about to pull the zipper up, the question I’ve been trying to avoid comes up. 

“Where were you last night, Jasmine?” 

I swallow hard, trying to stay still while my zipper goes up. 

Before I even say the words, my knees weaken. 

“I—I think I had sex last night.” 

The room goes silent as though she suddenly loses her voice. 

She knows what this means. I know what this means. 

I turn to her, and I’ve never seen Betty shocked. Nothing ever surprises her. But this… 

My heart sinks into my belly. 

“You… you did?” 

“Fuck, Betty, come on… Now I feel worse…” I sigh, turning away, struggling to fix my hair. 

“I’m sorry, how did you expect me to react?” she scoffs, her tone filled with judgment. 

“I know we said we’ll keep our virginities until we get married, but we made that promise when we were twelve; it was ten years ago…” I retort, my heart almost exploding because that’s not even the worst part. 

“I…I know, but you look like it’s a bad thing. Didn’t you even enjoy it… How did Walter…” she pauses, and so did I. 

Shit. 

“I know you did not…” 

I press my palm against my temple as though it can somehow reduce the ache that threatens to crush my skull. 

“Walter said he couldn’t make it to the pre-wedding dinner, only the actual reception tonight,” Betty whispers, processing the math in her head. “Walter isn't even in the country yet. Oh my god, Jasmine…” 

“Oh, my God…” I copy her in a panicked whisper. 

“What did you do? Were you drunk?” She begins to scold me. 

“I—I don’t know. I remember kissing him… and that scent on my gown. Everything else is a blur… But—” 

“Who was it…” she cuts me off before I can say that myself, grabbing me by the arm.

I scratch my neck, a confused expression coating my face. 

“I—I don’t remember. It’s mostly fuzzy, but I know it happened. I can feel it.”  

She doesn’t let it sit for a second before she begins scolding me. 

“Do you know what this means?” she starts, and trust me, I do. I wish the ground would open up and swallow me right now. 

“You mean to tell me that you lost your virginity to one of fifty guests at your mother’s wedding and you don’t recall who?” 

Fuck! 

Hearing it now, I clearly see how fucked I am. 

I can’t go out there. God! 

What if it’s one of the staff or worse, the older groomsmen? 

How on earth would I explain this to Walter? How would he feel? 

The vibration of Betty’s phone pulls our attention back to the present. 

“Shit… It’s your mom, Jas. The wedding is about to start.” She panics. 

“I… I don’t think I should be there…” 

“You’re one of the bridesmaids!” she retorts, grabs my old clothes, and packs everything back into her bag. 

“This is your mother’s wedding; it’s your only chance to make it up to her. We’ll go out there, act as nothing happened, and when the wedding is done, we’ll find your mystery man. Hopefully before Walter gets here.” 

She grabs my arm and pulls me outside. 

I’m not ready. 

“Maybe I should stay back—” 

“Jasmine Faye Sinclair, we are attending your mother’s wedding, and you will smile as you enjoy it.” 

Yeah, I’m screwed. When she calls me by my full name, clearly imitating my mother, I know she’s serious down to the bone. 

I just have to breathe and remember, he might not even care; it might not be as big of a deal to him as it is for me… right?

I try to gather as much courage as I can, but the second the doormen pull open the large door revealing the massive space with hundreds of people seated, my courage melts like ice tossed in a lava pit. 

All eyes turn to me, and I freeze. 

Fuck… they are judging me. Why does their gaze linger if they are not? 

I swallow hard. It feels like everyone knows. 

“Move…” Betty groans with the side of her lips as she pulls me forward to the altar where my sister and mother are already standing. 

My gaze doesn’t stop at her for a second before I see the rage on her face, even though she tries to mask it with a smile. 

“You’re late,” my mother says with bitterness, even with a smile on her lips. “It’s my day, Jasmine. Don’t fuck this up!” she adds as I walk behind her holding a flower like a proper bridesmaid would. 

It can't get any worse. 

I’m all dressed, my perfume coating the stench of last night’s sin. 

Nobody knows… it will be alright. 

I try to calm my thundering heart, then the door opens again, drawing our attention to the entrance. 

My breath is stolen from my lungs as a tall, well-built man walks in. He's dressed in a black suit, and the wind immediately carries the scent of his thick oud cologne brushing through me. 

Each step he takes echoes through the hall, and nobody takes their eyes off him. He looks like he’s in his mid-thirties with a firm, bold masculine jawline. 

“Who the fuck is that?” A thought that’s supposed to be in my head, but slips out anyway. 

He gets up the altar, and I still can’t take my eyes off him. 

“My Lady…” The baritone of his voice sends a shiver through me as he takes my mother’s hand. It’s almost like my body reacts to him even though he’s talking to her. 

Strange, I know. But that scent…   

“Stop staring… That’s Vladimir Kensington, mother’s new husband. I told you he was hot.” Violet responds to me in her regular sassy tone. 

I barely draw another breath in before his gaze meets mine. 

I freeze. 

‘Are you a virgin, Jasmine…’ warm breath steams my neck, forcing my body to flinch. 

My thighs press together, holding back the slight tingle before it becomes a nuisance. 

Almost immediately, his gaze moves back to my mother without a single expression on his face. 

That voice… That scent! 

Fuck me!