Blackwater Falls Wedding Novels & Stories

Whatever's going on, the old fart and his son are taking their sweet time. "Anyway, do you like how the pack prepared this place for your wedding? There's too much white involved; we stand out. Everyone on the brides' side is wearing white, while we're all draped in black. Talk about the inability to fit in wherever we go." I'm about to snap or at least throw a sarcastic remark at Damon when movement catches my eye.

Emily nodded quietly. "I'm sorry." She returned to work, trying to forget the strange encounter. She never imagined that one small lie... Would change her life forever. Across the city... Inside Blackwood Estate... The atmosphere was tense. More than a thousand guests had gathered for what the media had already called "The Wedding of the Year." Business tycoons. Celebrities. Politicians. Reporters from every major television station. Everyone had come to witness billionaire Alexander Blackwood marry Victoria Harrington. Inside a private lounge, Alexander adjusted the cuff of his black suit.

They are a harsh reminder of the horrible heartbreak I went through. But strangely, I'm more than happy to be at Vanessa's wedding. The wedding is black-themed. The few guests are all dressed in black. The venue is decorated with black flowers and black seats. I thought it was an odd colour for a wedding but it's actually stunning and unique and different. To be honest, I expected a lot more guests at the wedding. Shockingly, there's a lot more empty seats. For a drug dealer's son who is also a model and a creative photographer, I expected the venue to be swarmed with dozens of guests.

“I’ve been waiting for yeh two to decide on this. I want to do a black wedding so bad.” Scrolling through the pictures, Shiloh stopped on a picture of a black four tier cake with a waterfall of red poppies going down one side. Nessie grinned when she saw which one her newest bride was looking at. “That’s one of me favorites.” “It’s beautiful.” “Bellissimo.” Pagan grinned as he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. She laughed as she turned her head and kissed his cheek. “Sì bellissimo.”

Our wedding was not like a party it was like a harvest festival. We had it in the middle of the vineyard under a white fabric canopy and fairy lights that looked like the stars in the sky. The whole village was there Brigitte was wearing her lace the fishermen were wearing their stiff collars and Sarah was still excited from her trip to Nairobi. The ceremony was over when a shiny black car arrived at the villa gates. The car looked really out of place next to the motorcycles and dusty trucks. Everyone stopped talking. I felt a lump in my throat. I thought it might be a reporter or someone with news.

Every time they tried to contribute, Catherine steamrolled over them. Athena attempted again. “What about the flowers? We thought maybe” “No, no, and no,” Catherine said, waving her hand dismissively. “The theme will be Royal White. Roses, orchids, lilies, and a mirrored aisle. The wedding should look like it’s for a Blackwood, not a Dexter.” Max swallowed hard. It was almost impressive. Almost inspiring. And absolutely terrifying. The Dexters watched silently as Catherine continued: “This wedding must scream elegance. Prestige. Power. Blackwood legacy. The girl might be your daughter, but she will marry into MY arrangements.”

Six months after the wedding. December. Snow falling outside. Holiday lights twinkling. Emma one year old. Our first Christmas as the Blackwood family. Officially. Legally. Completely. I’m Ariana Blackwood now. The name still feels new. Foreign. Perfect. The wedding was beautiful. Intimate. Perfect. Exactly what we wanted. Sunset on our cliff. Fifty guests. Julian officiated. Marcus gave a speech that made everyone cry. Sophia caught the bouquet. Emma toddled down the aisle as flower girl and fell halfway. Everyone laughed. It was perfect chaos.

A high slit ran up my thigh, elegant but dangerous. “This,” I said softly, lifting it, “is perfect.” The maid nearly panicked. “Ma’am, no!” she cried. “You can’t wear black to your wedding. It’s forbidden! Black brings bad luck. Black is for funerals, not weddings!” I ignored her and spread the gown across the bed. Even Lara hesitated. “Clara,” she said carefully, “we’re going to a wedding, not a funeral. You can’t wear black.” I smiled slowly.

The wedding after-party stretched into the night, long and packed with fun. And right now, I have a beautiful wedding ring on my finger, which matches my mates' rings, too. We had a joint shower and settled down to drain the Blackwood family cellar. "You want to get dicked down?" Nathan asked, his brows wiggling suggestively as he approached me. He pulled me into his arms, and I shuddered just at that touch alone. "Mrs. Blackwood," "Oh, shut up," I laughed to myself. It started small and soon blew out into a wild laugh. "I think Wendy spiked our drinks,"