Chapter 4

An overhead light beamed on the aisle, lighting her path to her groom. A soft, melodious tune kicked off as the curtains divided to reveal standing guests.

Gilly, all smiles, sauntered in and walked gracefully till she got to the altar and took her place. Rhylan sucked in a breath before taking the first cautious step into the halo.

The room was crammed elbow to groin with a motley throng of people. In front of the left column, young damsels in flattering and colorful silk were huddled together with their fancy hairdos and prideful poses.

Behind them sat young bachelors slicked in tuxedos and ties. To the right, the elderly and gnarled occupied the seats. Pocketed next to them was a smattering of cheeky guests in overpriced but tacky clothes.

As Rhylan advanced, she watched the reactions on both sides. Disdainful faces and envious stares bore through her veil and sent a fresh poke in her confidence till her eyes fell to the floor in front of her.

The whispers that floated were hardly discreet. Everyone was shocked and highly disappointed that the 'ugly one' turned out to be the bride marrying the dashing man at the altar. Someone pointed out her gaping ass and her legs wobbled for a second. She inhaled, kept her pace.

When she lifted her head, Calvin was staring right at her. The power of his daunting eyes hit her like a fist through glass. She shuddered as her stomach started doing cartwheels.

She braced herself and really looked at him. It was just as advertised or maybe the descriptive prowess of the novelist didn't do him any justice. The man was a sight for sore eyes.

He had a slight dent in his angular face. In his dark suit and red bowtie, he loomed, high and breathtaking, like a tidal wave. Rhylan's eyes dipped to his wrist to find the sentimental tattoo partially masked by his gold watch. His shoulder-sweeping hair was swept in a low bun behind his head, as he was fond of doing when the matter at hand was important to him. The realization caused a small bloom in her heart.

She rarely entertained fantasies about her perfect mate beyond one who would share her love for reading dusty paperbacks. A romantic at heart with a toned body and a sophisticated bent. Calvin topped it all in a sterling way. The fact that he wasn't utopian felt like the icing on a cherry cake.

Armed with desperation and nothing left to lose, she had indulged Readym by taking up their offer. She had hidden away in her room, rifling through mental files of books she had read and male characters she had thoroughly loved and pined for.

The second option was tricky. According to Readym, whatever she failed to pen down will not be assumed. Since she was too shaken to think things through, she opted for the first choice and considered male characters from books with full character arcs that she knew like the back of her palms. It was a safer bet, she had thought.

She went from crying over her impending wedding to a quiet and brooding bride. Her family had also noticed, dropped a comment or two about her adjusting to her new reality. They didn't know any better.

Inside her room, she had spent sleepless nights thinking cautiously, flipping through books she had borrowed from cover to cover. And on the third day, she had voiced out her choice as instructed; Calvin Banks from one of her favorite titles, Taming the billionaire.

It was almost an obvious and relatable choice, not just because his name was coincidentally the same as that of her intended groom. In Taming the Billionaire, Calvin was described as a billionaire who was loyal when he loved and ruthless when he protected the ones he loved.

His love interest in the novel hadn't exactly been a popular, safe or acceptable choice but Calvin hadn't cared. His affections for her only grew stronger with every opposition they attracted. Gradually, his love overturned the jealousy and hatred his lover suffered into admiration.

As she drew closer to the altar now, Rhylan desperately searched Calvin's face for traces of the disappointment glistening on everybody else's, as he took in his bride.

As far as she could tell, she was nothing like Calvin's lover, Kehlani, who was described as having a long, flaming-red hair he loved to tangle his fingers in every time they locked lips.

Her lips. They were soft and full and constantly melded with his. She was petite and skinny with a confidence that aroused and appealed to him. A rawness in speech that stirred his soul. And when she plowed her knee into his groin on their first meeting in chapter three of the novel, Calvin knew the fireball of a woman was going to have more than a page in his story.

Rhylan didn't have any of that fire in her eyes, and she suspected Calvin could see that. His face still betrayed nothing as she approached him. Dread filled her to bursting as he quirked those eyes at her, from head to toe.

What if he saw what every other man in utopia had seen; an inconveniently curvaceous woman with a loud mouth and a stiff attitude? Would it matter if she wasn't a mirror image of his one true love?

Her legs gave in and she took a hard fall on her face. Pleased smiles and laughter shimmered over the shocked and concerned gasps. Managing on all fours, Rhylan felt the shame claw towards a scream in her throat. She must have been kneeling there for a minute or two, trying and failing to muster the courage to rise up and continue her walk with her head held high.

All she could think of was how Kehlani would have easily spun this situation around. In the book, it was a staple of hers to have the last laugh, to be unpredictable, to always win. And Calvin had verbally expressed his admiration for those particular qualities in her. Inside Rhylan rose a need as basic as breath; a need to not fail, at least not on her wedding day.

Through her cloudy eyes, she saw a pair of shiny shoes stride into her path. There was intention in the deliberate movement, in the rigid stance.

A hand reached out to cup her veiled chin. Seeing Calvin sent pleasant shivers down her spine. Taking his hand, she pulled herself to a standing position. Calvin slowly crouched on one knee, tore his eyes away from Rhylan's to tangle a hand in the ankle-skimming fishtail design of her wedding dress. In one move, he ripped it apart.