The Billionaire's Fragile Bride

7. WELCOME TO THE BARLOWE FAMILY

The rustic wedding theme was planned out by Rosa and a friend of hers who was an event planner. The part of the garden that was festooned with different varieties of flowers was carefully selected. 

The arrangements of flowers in between the ribbons and linens used to decorate the tables were simple but very classy. There were about seven chairs at a table with a large flower atop each table.

After deliberations, Elizabeth's garden was chosen as the venue for the wedding ceremony.

Orla arrived at the garden with her father loosely gripping her hand. It felt so precarious as Arnold grabbed her hand, compelling her to walk faster as if it was forbidden for him to hold her for too long. 

She winced when his fingers roughly scuffed her fragile hand, but he didn't seem to be concerned. He increased his strides and she did the same, they hurriedly walked until they went in front of the altar, Callan and the officiating priest and the few people present to grace the event.

Orla did a quick surveying of all the people present and they were quite numerous; she had never seen their faces. She only recognized Elizabeth, David, Rosa and of course, Liam, who was grinning from ear to ear as he took pictures of her in her overflowing wedding dress that he proudly designed. The others were probably staff from Callan's workplace because she didn't have an idea who they were.

She drooped her head when she was standing next to Callan. Her eyes landed on his properly polished designer loafers that screamed thousands of dollars from how they glistened. She had not looked at him to read the expression on his face, she was avoiding his gaze on her. 

A small visible bruise marred her face from the slap earlier and she didn't want him to see that. She felt ugly already and with those puffy red eyes, Callan will find her even more disgusting.

"Hey?" He cleared his throat and she just nodded her head, inhaling his sharp manly scent of mint blended with patchouli. She raised her eyes to take a good glance at him. 

He was hot, nothing like her and she kept on wondering why he chose her. She looked so lowly being by his side, just her wedding dress and her hair were giving, every other thing about her was worse.

"Your makeup is smeared. You shouldn't have had any on if you knew you were going to ruin it with your tears." His voice came out gentle but hurting to the bone. Smiling smugly, his eyes disgustingly ogled her, sweeping from her hair down to her feet. He scoffed and continued, "I know that you don't want to marry me and trust me, I don't want it either but I have to do it for my mom who wants her grandchildren." 

"I…" Orla couldn't find the words. She stared at him, probing the brown suit he donned. The shirt was the same shade of white as her wedding gown, and the black blazer perfectly hugged him, highlighting his well-structured body that she'd have fallen for if only she was happy that she was getting married to Callan.

Callan caught a glimpse of the bruise on her face and his expression suddenly went bland. "What's wrong with you?" He queried.

Orla sniffed, soundlessly bursting into intractable tears. That wasn't cool with Callan, he didn't plan to make his bride cry on their wedding day. 

His eyes darted across the garden, resting on Arnold who was clenching his jaw and fists as he disdainfully gaped at Orla like she was some piece of shit. He looked back at her face, easily tracing the fingerprint of the bruise. He got it now, he understood that her father slapped her.

"Hey," he pulled her closer, wrapping her in an embrace. "Stop crying, the people will think that I am a monster and that isn't cool with me." He cautioned her, wiping her tears with his thumb.