Lysander still couldn''t set his mind at ease.


    This was more than just a rescue mission for him. It wasn''t only about taking M back; it was also a long-awaited rematch with Cossio. Thest time they''d shed head-to-head was back in college, and Lysander hadn''te out on top. In fact, he''d barely made it out at all, and the price he''d paid had been steep.


    This time, he had to win.


    There was simply no other option.


    As he stepped out of the bar, Leonard-dressed in the same ck overcoat- appeared quietly at his side. He spoke in a low voice, "Everything''s ready."


    Lysander nodded. After a moment''s thought, he added, "Get a few people to keep an eye on Francis. Until that damned wedding starts, make sure he stays away from alcohol. I don''t want him screwing anything up."


    "Understood."


    Just then, a striking woman in a red dress-tall, curvy, impossible to miss- sauntered over, swaying her hips. She took a slow drag from her cigarette, exhaling smoke in elegant spirals, eyes narrowed as she studied Lysander''s handsome face. She offered him the cigarette with a bold, inviting grin.


    "Hey, handsome. I noticed you back in the bar. You look like a good time. How about a date tonight?" She ran her tongue over her red lips, making her intentions more than clear.


    "Sorry. I''m taken," Lysander replied, gently pushing away the offered cigarette. His voice was calm, unbothered. "My partner hates the smell of smoke, so I quit ages ago."


    The woman blinked in surprise, but didn''t press the issue. With a careless "Your loss," she turned and sauntered off.


    Lysander paid her no mind. He turned his gaze toward the heart of the ind, where, in the distance, a grand old castle stood atop a hill.


    His love-his wife-was there.


    The wedding date was drawing ever closer.


    M had tried to brace herself, but for reasons she couldn''t name, her anxiety only grew as each day passed. An uneasy sense of dread gnawed at her, as if something terrible was looming.


    Her insomnia returned.


    She was just grateful that every time she saw Cossio, her face was hidden behind a veil. Otherwise, the dark circles under her eyes would have made it painfully obvious how little she was looking forward to the wedding.


    One morning at breakfast, Cossio downed a shot of strong coffee, clearly in high spirits. "My dear," he said, "the invitations have gone out. In just a few days, the world will witness the beginning of our eternal marriage."


    M managed a bitter smile.


    The invitations were thest thing she wanted to think about.


    She''d hoped Cossio would at least put both their names on them. That way, when the invitations began to circte, her friends might realize something was wrong, and her chances of being rescued would rise.


    But, to her dismay, the bastard had only put his own name on the invitations.


    His intentions couldn''t have been clearer. He was still clinging to the fantasy of marrying her under Felicity''s name.


    A fake bride.


    A fake wedding.


    Cossio was utterly lost in a dream, pouring his heart into a wedding where even


    the bride was a sham. M found it both absurd and pathetic.


    If he loved her so much, why had he let her go in the first ce?


    He was only lying to himself.


    She picked half-heartedly at her breakfast, already nning to sneak back to her room for a nap once he left. If she didn''t get some rest, she''d have neither the energy nor the wits to try escaping.


    But to her surprise, Cossio didn''t leave when he finished eating. Instead, he came over and pulled her into his arms. Through his gloves and her veil, his hand gently caressed the back of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. His voice was soft, almost worshipful. "Darling, we''re about to be husband and wife. Are you happy?"