Surrender to Me (I Surrender Trilogy Book 2) Read online

  I am confused by her reaction, but don’t dare argue with Bridezilla.

  “Okay fine. Just ask me easy stuff like dresses and cake and food... Oh, I can totally help with food.” I smile, feeling happy that I can actually contribute something of worth.

  “Yeah I’m sure you could tell me all about clothing, seeing as you’re decked out looking like you just ransacked Prada.”

  And good to see all this wedding stuff hasn’t softened V one bit.

  “What’s wrong with my clothes? Seriously, we’re going to talk about this again?” I know I am going to live to regret that comment.

  “Are you serious? Do you not have mirrors in Singapore? You wouldn’t know the difference between Couture and Target before you left. But now you look like all the snotty people we poke fun at. What’s your deal?” V states, glaring at me.

  I fiddle with a lacey frilly something that is lying on the couch next to me.

  “Do I have to have a deal to want to dress nicely?” I reply huffily, because I know she is right, but I don’t want to face the truth.

  This is why I knew coming back here would exhaust me, and it’s only been half a day.

  “There was nothing wrong with the way you dressed before; I think you looked nice enough.” V shrugs nonchalantly.

  She notices my mood change, and her tone softens as she continues, “I’m not trying to be a bitch, I’m just stating facts. How would you react if I came back home looking like a total tool?”

  I know she is not intentionally trying to be rude, so I reply calmly, “I would be happy for you, and not question your fashion choices.”

  “Whatever, Ava. I’m not going to fight you over what you choose to wear in your private time. BUT, I will fight you in regards to your dress. If you don’t like it, too bad. It may not be the latest fashion from Paris, but you’re wearing it. No questions asked!”

  Chapter 3

  4 Months Itch

  I am actually dreading seeing her choice of dress now.

  Just out of spite for leaving for Singapore, I am a little scared I will be walking down the aisle in lots of pink taffeta and puffy tulle. I have never doubted V’s wardrobe selection in the past, but I am frightened to see what she has picked as an appropriate Maid of Honor dress for me.

  While deep in thought V blurts out, “Why the fuck are you with Harper?”

  Well I was not expecting that. Actually whom am I kidding, of course I was.

  I give her a sharp look and she surrenders.

  “Fine, we won’t talk about this now, but this is a conversation we will be having and soon. You just kinda sprung this on me, and I am still trying to get my head around it. But do not think for one moment I am going to stand by, and watch you commit relationship suicide with this fucktard again!”

  Sighing, I look out the window, as looking at anything other than that judging look in her eyes sounds wonderful to me.

  It has been easier dealing with my decision to rekindle my relationship with Harper, with my friends and family living in a different country. My parents will not be pleased when I tell them we are back together, and hey surprise, we’re getting married.

  I am not that much of a shitty friend, as I told V as soon as Harper and I got back together, which was roughly two weeks ago. When she asked me whom I was bringing to the wedding, I sheepishly told her Harper. She laughed, but when she soon realized I wasn’t joking, she hung up on me, and we didn’t speak for two days. When she calmed down and finally decided to talk to me again, my ear was bleeding after an hour of serious scolding. It’s safe to say, she is not happy with our reunion.

  However, things with Harper are…complicated. Oh God, I blanch when I hear that phrase in my head. Someone once told me his relationship with a certain nameless bitch was complicated. Back then I remember thinking everything was black and white, but now I know there are millions of colors in-between.

  A horn tooting loudly shakes me out my reminiscing as V takes a corner too quickly, and I end up pressed against the passenger door.

  “Learn how to drive moron!” V zips past a car while waving her fist in the air at him.

  She peers over at me as I attempt to peel my face off the window.

  “You need to slow down V; you’re going to get us killed.”

  She brushes it off with a wave of her hand, and a cheeky smirk.

  “Hold on,” she giggles while stepping on the accelerator.

  This woman is on a mission to get us across town in record time, and nothing will stand in her way.

  *****

  We safely pull into a parking spot; while I pry open my fingers from the grab handle above me. I look at the store in front of us. It reads Dominique’s. Who the hell is Dominique? It sounds like a posh store Harper would shop at.

  V ushers me out of the car quickly. “Hurry up, we’re late.”

  “Oh, I seriously doubt that, seeing as you gave Tony Stewart a run for his money,” I joke.

  But she is shooing me into the door, and before I have time to question whom this Dominique is, I am confronted by a snobbish older lady, who I presume is the owner. Her glasses are perched on the tip of nose, and she is wearing a very nice tailored navy suit. Her hair is pulled high into a messy bun, and her red shade of lipstick is a little inappropriate for someone her age.

  “Oh bonsoir Ms. Donovan,” she says in a thick French accent.

  “Bonsoir Madame Dominique, I am so sorry we’re late. Traffic was a bitch. This is my friend and Maid of Honor, Ava Thompson,” V says while extending her hand in my direction.

  But I am paying her no attention as my mouth is agape, as I am staring around the store. There is so much...white. I feel a heat creep up my neck, and I think I am going to have an internal panic attack. All this wedding paraphernalia, in one place, is reminding me of my impending doom. As I take a deep, loud breath, both V and Madame Dominique look at me strangely.

  Dominique looks down her nose at me. Okay, I have clearly pissed her off. What is this lady’s problem? I met her like two minutes ago; surely I haven’t done anything wrong.

  “Ah, so this is the famous Ava. Why were you not here sooner to help the lovely Veronica? C’est le rôle de demoiselle d’honneur.” Her accent rolls off her tongue, and her s’ sound like z’s.

  Is this lady really scolding me for not being here sooner? I am ticked off. She doesn’t know me, what gives her the right to be so…rude!

  V picks up on my hostility, and quickly tries to change subject. “So Madame, no time like the present, let’s show Ava her dress.”

  Dominique throws me one last nasty look, before turning to V. “Yes my Cherie, good idea. I will go get her gown,” and she quickly scurries off into the back room.

  Looking at V, I raise an unimpressed brow, and before I begin my tirade, she holds up a finger to silence me. “I am the bride Ava. Don’t piss the bride off, word of warning.”

  I hold up my hands in defeat because she’s right. Whatever Dominique’s problem is, I only have to see this woman a handful of times, and I can do this for my friend. I will just ignore Dominique’s insolence as I have dealt with her kind a lot lately, and it actually saddens me that that is the case.

  Pushing those thoughts aside, I look around the store once again, taking in the racks upon racks of dresses hung up around the circular room. We are sitting on a couch in the middle of the room, and suddenly, I feel nauseous.

  V gives me a puzzled look. “Ava, are you okay? Are you going to throw up?”

  I shake my head, biting my lip, too afraid to speak, because I think she may be right and I might lose my lunch.

  Before I have time to lose anything, the curtain out back scrapes across the railing and out saunters the lady of the hour. She is holding a white coat hanger, with a red silk dress draped over her forearm. I blow out a relieved breath. So far so good.

  V is clapping her hands in excitement, bouncing up and down on the seat next to me, while Madame Dominique stops in front of us, and unvei
ls the dress like it deserves its own entrance.

  I am shocked.

  The dress is simply breathtaking. I am in awe of V’s choice, and she looks at me concerned.

  She mistakes my silence as revulsion. “Oh my God, you hate it. She hates it Dominique!”

  Madame Dominique soothes V. “Oh Cherie, she is just taken aback by its exquisiteness, non?” She looks at me pointedly to confirm her statement.

  I have to agree with her, it is definitely not taffeta or meringue like.

  “V, I love it. It is simply stunning.” I smile at her, grasping her hand.

  She squeals in happiness. “You’re not just saying that? You really like it?”

  “Are you serious? What’s not to love?” I reply, staring at the dress.

  This garment has obviously been inspired by the infamous Marilyn Monroe dress she wore in The Seven Year Itch.

  Madame Dominique smiles at me, and seems to like me a bit more, now that I love her dress.

  “Go try it on Cherie.” She is holding the dress out to me, and I take it gently.

  I smile at V, nodding my approval. She looks ecstatic and I know even if I hated the dress, I would still make it work for my friend. This is her special day, and I will do anything to make it extraordinary for her.

  As I walk into the silky white change room, I am impressed with the full length mirror which has small light bulbs running along the edges, rendering it fit for any Hollywood actress.

  Stepping out of my clothes, I hang them up as I hear V squeal in excitement as the front door opens. I wonder what the commotion is, but when I hear Lucas’ voice, that solves the mystery to why my friend is suddenly so excited. He must be here to try on his tux, seeing as Dominique’s also caters for grooms and groomsmen.

  As I slip on the beautiful gown, I tie the elegant silk bow around my waist, letting the ribbon ends run down the length of the dress. The high waist sits under my breasts, with the halter neck revealing a little too much cleavage deemed appropriate for a wedding. The length is too long, which is not surprising, but apart from that and the gaping bust line, the dress is perfect. Some minor alternations and the dress will fit flawlessly.

  Smoothing my palms over the silky material, I suddenly get really excited for my best friend. This is going to be the happiest day of her life, and I am nothing but grateful to share it with her. I then realize I haven’t been the best Maid of Honor, and decide then and there, it’s time to change my attitude. From now on, if V wants me to jump, I say how high. I will do anything to make her happy, because I know she would do the same for me. Will I be this happy when it’s my turn? I don’t want to think about that because this is all about V.

  With my new outlook on the wedding, I waltz out beaming, “Ta dah! How do I look?”

  I open my arms to reveal my dress, which is a bad idea as I feel the loose material around my bust fall open. But my gaping bust line is the least of my worries as I trip, nearly falling onto my ass, when I see who I am standing before.

  A set of familiar cerulean eyes are assessing me, looking as confused as I. I spin to look at V, who is at my side, trying to steady my balance while smiling uneasily.

  I can’t speak, I am shell shocked.

  Turning to look into his eyes, my heart drops, along with my stomach, because as I stare at the man I left, the man I lied to, and the man whose heart I broke, he returns my look with one of hatred. I know why he is so mad at me, and I don’t blame him. But no matter the loathing he feels for me, I am so happy to see him.

  But that happiness is shattered when I hear him say between clenched teeth, “What the FUCK is she doing here?”

  Chapter 4

  Old Friends

  I look at V, my face demanding answers.

  My legs are jelly beneath me because I am in the same room as Jasper White.

  V awkwardly smiles and steps away from me, while I place my hand on the wall for support.

  “Sooo, I guess now would be a good time to tell you both.” V looks over at Lucas for support.

  “Tell us what? Lucas, what the hell is going on?” Jasper asks, looking at Lucas who is uncomfortably holding up a suit, which is two sizes too small for him.

  Then it all clicks into place.

  Judging by the suit Lucas is holding, Jasper is meant to be my partner. The best man! Bride or not, I am going to wring her neck!

  This is so awkward, and I suddenly want to escape into the safety of my fancy dressing room.

  After a few moments of centering myself, I slowly take in all things Jasper White. I haven’t seen him for over four months, and taking him in has the same impact it does every time I see him.

  I melt.

  Looking at his physique, he appears to have bulked up somewhat, as his shoulders seem broader and his arms look firmer. His biceps are peeking out of his grey V neck t-shirt which is complemented by his close-fitting black jeans, and black combat boots. Jasper stands at 5’10, and has always been lean, but muscled in all the right places, and now is no exception. He is the epitome of what a male should look like.

  I work my way up to that glorious face that could bring a nation to a standstill, but that face now looks harder, like it has experienced many hardships since I last saw it. His hair is slightly longer than I remember it being. He still has shortish sides, but it’s the longer layers on top which are styled messily, giving it more of an unkempt look. He has tamed his bedroom locks with hair product, and it appears wet and wild and so, so hot! Perfect hair to yank onto when one is wriggling in pleasure underneath him.

  His dark growth is shadowing his strong jaw line, and complementing his sinful bow lips, which are as tempting as I remember them being. The small scar he has on the left side of his bottom lip is getting worked furiously between his teeth. I shiver when I remember how those teeth felt grazing along my flesh.

  But it’s his eyes, those cerulean eyes I have been lost in, too many times to count, that takes my breath away. Those eyes however, which once looked at me with such love and sincerity, are now piercing me to my very core with loathing. I dare say he still hates me.

  As if on cue, he runs his hands through his messy hair angrily, and I know from experience that this is a sign of frustration, a nervous habit he is unaware of.

  “So, is anyone going to answer my question, or did I just walk into the twilight zone?” Jasper asks heatedly.

  His voice shatters my ogling, always a little too rough from smoking too many cigarettes. The anger I feel from his heated words burn a hole into my heart, and I am a little hurt that my happy feelings are clearly not reciprocated. Lucas clears his throat and V whistles, looking anywhere but at him.

  I glance up at him shyly, and am wordless, as this man renders me speechless. He always has, and always will, but sadly this time around, it’s not in a good way. His eyes are filled with irritation, but when he looks over at me, they soften slightly. I see his intake of breath deepen and maybe, just maybe, he is as affected as I am.

  Peering at him a little more confidently, and gaining a little strength that he isn’t verbally assaulting me right now, I allow myself to rewind to a time when Jasper and I were happy. When he was my everything, my reason to breathe, and I wish I could go back to that time. We loved each other once, but now I can only see turmoil in his cerulean eyes, turmoil I also feel with every breath I take.

  We are staring at one another openly, but suddenly Jasper’s eyes drop briefly to my cleavage, which I remember was all but hanging out as I leaped out of the change room. He clenches his jaw, and I forget how to breathe when he licks his bottom lip quickly, leaving them wet and sinful. I quickly pull the lapels tighter across my chest, hoping I was not showing too much skin or worse yet, nipple! Judging by the heated look he is giving me, nipples on display may have been a possibility.

  Oh dear lord, kill me!

  My pulse is racing against my neck, and I know I am blushing deep shades of crimson. So I lower my eyes because if I look at him a minute longer,
I will either faint or do inappropriate things to him, regardless of who is in the room with us.

  His smell assaults my nostrils and his signature fragrance is literally making my mouth water, and I have to swallow quickly before I drool everywhere.

  Peeking up at him from under my lashes, his eyes are taking in every corner of my face and body with deep scrutiny. I could get lost in those deep blue orbs, and I secretly confess to myself, I still want to.

  But then another pair of blue eyes shatters my fantasy, those eyes of my fiancée. I snap the fuck out of my daydream and return to the present. Jasper senses my mood shift and takes a step back, but his eyes never leave my face.

  “Pourquoi tout le monde est triste? This is a time to celebrate,” Dominique says to everyone.

  We must look like we are about to get fitted for a funeral.

  “Okay Monsieur, you go over there and try on this suit. You are the best man and you must look tres bon. But not as good as the groom.” She is joking, attempting to break the ice.

  But I doubt a sledgehammer could break through this icy reunion.

  When Jasper hesitates, his eyes still locked with mine, Dominique seizes the suit Lucas is holding and thrusts it into Jasper’s face.

  “Go, now. No time to waste. Dépèchez-vous!”

  I don’t speak much French, but I think that means hurry up and move your ass, before I move it for you. Jasper breaks our staring match as he snatches the suit from her hands, and storms off into the change room, cursing under his breath.

  I meanwhile turn to V, who looks all shades of guilty. I pull her arm and retreat to the corner, away from Lucas and Jasper.

  “What the fuck V? You told me Abel was best man. Last time I checked, Abel didn’t look like Jasper’s doppelganger! Why didn’t you tell me Jasper was best man? And you obviously didn’t tell Jasper I was Maid of Honor, judging by his reaction of seeing me standing with my breasts on display for all to see,” I whisper furiously.