The Wedding Day

Abihirt Lincoln woke up to find a young girl wrapped in thick blankets in his bed. He blinked a few times, trying hard to remember the remnants of last night's bet. The bastard Roki had brazenly added stimulant powder to the last cocktail glass—which had to be gulped down—to celebrate the upcoming wedding day.

"Asshole!"

Abihirt cursed while rubbing his rough face. This morning was the blessing. He glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. 30 minutes to go, but as the groom-Abihirt had yet to make any preparations.

For a moment, the gray eyes scanned the innocent face, which slowly began to frown to avoid the light streaming through the white curtains. Abihirt picked up the cloth scattered around the edge of the bed. Putting his white shirt back on, he raised one eyebrow high when he noticed that the bright blue iris had completely opened and were staring in complete surprise.

"Who are you?" 

Moreau's breath caught. No one would have expected that in front of her a full-grown man—happy, damn handsome with faintly tousled hair—was towering over her. Instinctively, Moreau's fingers tightened, simply squeezing the thick blanket.

Overnight ....

The image reminded Moreau of one thing. She looked down. Her heart pounded hard as she found her body without a single thread. The suction marks left deep reddish patches that stood out clearly on her chest. 

It felt like Moreau needed more time to contemplate her fate. She did not know what to say. She was caught between regret and fear. Slowly Moreau's face lifted. The intense eye contact and the way the man looked at her sternly left all sorts of uncomfortable feelings.

Suddenly something was thrown in front of her. Moreau tried to understand the situation. A hotel access card. What was a strange man handing over such an object for?

"I should go."

That was all. So cold that even the width of the footsteps immediately clomped out of the room. Moreau snorted. Finally decided to improve her poor appearance. For a moment she stared intently at the roll of red cloth on her abdomen, which the man had stripped off last night. With tentative movements, Moreau's fingertips unraveled the cloth until it was pulled tight around her body. Today there would be a party.

"Oh, my God. Why did I forget?"

The last part was to grab the red underwear lying at the foot of the bed. Moreau walked rather hurriedly, completely ignoring the stranger's access card. It was only a one-night stand. The rest they did not want to know each other.

The first time she stepped outside, something odd immediately rushed into Moreau's mind. Woe, she had been dealing with a rich man. Not everyone could afford this luxurious hotel in the city center. Moreau subconsciously adjusted her long hair. The wedding party would begin any minute now. Moreau had to dig through her cell phone occasionally to recall the address of the reception hotel. She and her mother did not get along very well. Moreau was sure she had no choice but to include her in the wedding. Someone who needed formality. It made sense why Moreau had the responsibility of being there. She didn't have much more time.

***

"Where have you been, Abi? I've been waiting for you."

The whole time, Barbara worried about her husband-to-be, who had suddenly disappeared for the night. Abihirt Lincoln only sent a short message; the rest of the time the man was completely immersed as if this wedding day was never going to happen. The calm expression had also left a rumbling feeling. Barbara could hardly believe that just a moment ago she thought this wedding was about to be canceled.

"You said your daughter would be at our wedding. Where is she? I haven't met her yet."

Instead, Abihirt asked the question calmly, engrossed in fixing the buttons of the suit that clung firmly to his clay body. 

Barbara smiled faintly, then took a step closer to fix the shirt collar that was interfering with her vision.

"Are you in a hurry?"

Instead of answering. Something in Abihirt caught Barbara's attention. This man was seven years younger than her, but Barbara never minded. Abihirt had a strong sense of masculinity. She would probably never get that from any man, including one who had been in a serious relationship.

"You haven't answered my question."

Abihirt was still as coldly staring into Barbara's face. It took specialized knowledge, and Barbara was happy to respond. Moreau didn't really matter. It was better if the girl was not present. Just because of the wasisan, Barbara had no choice; either keep Moreau or live with the wealth that should have been hers.

Already living a life of luxury, of course Barbara rejected how she had ever tried so hard to find happiness.

  "I don't know. Maybe Moreau will arrive soon. That girl is sometimes hard to tell." Chuckling, Barbara then took the action of kissing Abihirt's rough jaw. She needed to stand on tiptoe a little, then rubbed the man's face lovingly.

"The blessing is about to begin. We should not discuss anything else here."

  Barbara gently hugged Abihirt's arm. They had walked to the wedding altar. Guests were already waiting, while the priest with all his readiness was also in the center of the altar.

  Barbara's smile never disappeared when she faced her future husband. Abihirt's cold face would always be the most beautiful part. She was content to watch Abihirt's hot lips move as the priest spoke while waiting for her turn.

  In a short time, the sacred vows were recited. The ring that symbolized love was pinned on. Their relationship was official. How happy Barbara was after the long wait. She kissed Abihirt on the lips to loud applause.

Meanwhile, just one step closer, Moreau's body suddenly froze at the fact that the man she slept with last night... was the man who married her mother this morning.

How could that be?

Moreau's heart responded with a loud thud. The shocking feeling made her even more anxious as gray eyes glanced at her sternly. Moreau swallowed roughly. I didn't know what she could do now. Serious urges were asking her to leave. Moreau slowly took a step back. Combing to a quiet place and wondering should she talk about this big problem to her mother? What would Barbara say? Moreau was sure the woman would only scold her harshly.