Falling for my best friend's billionaire brother

🌹The Day the Bride Ran Away 🌹

I always imagined the first time I'd walk into Christian Blake's arms, it would be different-something straight out of a rom-com or one of those classic Pinterest-worthy moments. I'd be in a red dress, the wind playing in my hair, the sun casting a golden glow over everything. He'd turn, spot me across the room, and smile like he'd been waiting his whole life just to see me.

But no.

Today, I'm wearing a blush-pink satin bridesmaid dress that hugs my hips a little too tightly and pinches at the seams when I breathe. I've spent the entire day forcing smiles for the cameras, my best friend's brother-the man I've secretly loved since I was seventeen-just meters away, preparing to marry someone else.

I'm not the bride.

God, I wish I was.

But life isn't a fairytale, and some of us are meant to clap from the sidelines while the love of our lives says "I do" to someone who isn't us.

And today? Today, I was determined to let go.

To bury the feelings I've nurtured for years. To stand beside Vivienne-his picture-perfect influencer fiancée-as one of her two handpicked bridesmaids, the other being my best friend, Maya. It was some kind of cruel poetic joke: me, dressing up to help the man I love marry someone else.

I did it anyway.

Because Christian Blake wanted it.

And I would do anything for him.

Maya reaches over and pats my back gently, her smile small and tight with understanding.

"You okay, Bells?" she asks, her voice soft.

I offer a smile that doesn't reach my eyes. "I'm fine, Maya. Don't worry about me."

She gives me that look. The one that says she knows me better than I want her to. The one that says she's not buying it.

"I just wish... I wish it was you up there. I never really liked Vivienne."

I chuckle under my breath, the sound hollow. "Come on. Be happy for your brother. He deserves to marry the woman he loves."

"If she ever shows up," Maya mutters, glancing at her phone. "She's taking forever."

"I know, right? These heels are murdering me."

We're standing in the hallway of Connecticut's most luxurious wedding venue, bouquets already beginning to wilt in our hands. Guests are murmuring, checking their watches, and sipping expensive champagne, clearly wondering why the wedding hasn't started-an hour and a half after the scheduled time.

Then, suddenly, Christian storms away from the altar.

The movement is so abrupt it slices through the tension like a knife. Maya curses under her breath.

"I'll go check," she says and disappears down the hallway.

Something in my chest tightens, like the universe is shifting, and I follow her minutes later. I toss my bouquet onto an old lady's lap-she glares at me but I don't care-and head to the bridal changing suite at the back of the venue.

As soon as I step in, I know something is wrong.

Maya's parents are arguing in hushed, frantic tones. Maya herself is trying to talk to Christian, who stands statue-still in the center of the room. His jaw is clenched. Daniella, their hot-headed youngest sister, is swearing like a sailor and throwing Vivienne's name around like it's a curse.

"What's going on?" I demand, my voice slicing through the chaos.

Maya turns to me, eyes wide. "She's gone," she says.

I blink. "Gone? What do you mean gone?"

"She left," Daniella snaps. "Vivienne freaking DuPont ran off. Took the damn private jet!"

Vivienne DuPont-fashion queen, social media icon, and Christian's perfect fiancée-has vanished.

The ceremony was supposed to be the billionaire wedding of the year. Now the guests outside are sipping their second glasses of champagne, confusion painted across their Botox-smooth faces. Reporters are waiting by the gates for the first flash of bridal white.

And the bride?

Gone. Vanished into thin air.

What the actual hell?

Christian is just standing there, every inch the stoic billionaire in a perfectly tailored black suit that probably cost more than my rent for a year. His hand is gripping his phone so tight I swear it might snap. He hasn't said a word.

I step toward him, unsure what to do, unsure what to say.

"Maybe... maybe she's stuck in traffic?" I offer, weakly.

He doesn't laugh. Doesn't blink.

"She left," he says finally, voice low and hard. "She took the private jet. She's not coming back."

I swallow.

I've known Christian Blake since I was fifteen. I've seen him win awards, command boardrooms, walk into rooms like he owned the air people breathed. But I've never seen him like this.

He looks... broken.

And for some wild, reckless reason, I want to find Vivienne and slap the expensive lip gloss off her face.

"I'll go find-"

I turn to leave, but his hand shoots out, catching my wrist.

His touch is electric-fire and ice and everything in between. I freeze.

"Everyone leave," he says, voice sharp.

Maya glances at me, eyes wide, but obeys, guiding her parents and sister out the door. Soon, it's just the two of us.

Just me. And Christian Blake.

"What are you doing?" I whisper. "You need to go find her."

"I don't want to find her."

His voice is deeper now, rougher. He steps closer, and my heart does a somersault.

"Don't go," he says, eyes locking onto mine.

"Don't...?" I repeat, confused.

"Don't go."

The world tips on its axis. His stare is unreadable, but intense. I feel it burn into my soul.

"I need a favor," he says. "A big one."

"Christian? You're scaring me."

"Marry me."

The words hang in the air like smoke.

One heartbeat.

Two.

I blink. "What?"

"Right now. Today. You."

"Christian, you can't be serious-"

"I am. The media's outside. The merger is on the edge. If the board finds out Vivienne ran, it all falls apart. I can't afford this scandal. I need a bride. I need a wedding. And you-you're the only one I trust."

I can't breathe.

I laugh. A bitter, startled sound. "You don't even like me."

He doesn't deny it.

" l don't need to like you ,l just need you to say yes"

This is so wrong but does it feel so right?

l square my shoulders. Lift my chin.

This might ruin me. It might be the biggest mistake of my life.

But it might also be the beginning of the only story I've ever wanted.

"Fine," I whisper. "Let's get married, Mr. Blake."

His eyes flicker-surprise? Relief? Regret?

But before I can figure it out, he's already dialing his phone. Already salvaging headlines. Already saving his empire.

And me?

I was gonna wear someone else's dress at someone else's wedding, agreeing to marry the man I've dreamed of for years.

This is either madness...

Or fate.

And l wanted it .

***********

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