Chapter 197
Chapter 197
Sunny's POV
The tires kicked up gravel as we peeled out. In the rearview mirror, security guards started running, then stopped when they realized we were already gone.
Rainey was laughing—actually laughing, her head thrown back. "Oh my God. We just ditched our own wedding."
"Correction: I just kidnapped my bride."
"That's not how kidnapping works!" But she was grinning now, stress melting away. "Where are we going?"
"Airport. Private jet's waiting."
"A private—" She stared. "Sunny!"
"What? You think I was gonna fly commercial on our wedding night?" I glanced over at her—oversized hoodie, messy hair, bare feet in cotton slippers. She looked absolutely perfect. "Besides, you need real sleep. Not that bullshit power nap."
She bit her lip, still smiling. "Your father really is going to murder you."
"Yeah, probably." I laced our fingers together. "Worth it."
---
Thirty thousand feet up, Rainey was curled in one of the jet's leather seats, wrapped in cashmere, hands cradling hot chocolate. The interior was all warm wood and soft amber lighting.
I stretched out across from her, watching her stare at the dark sky.
"You okay?"
She nodded slowly. "Just... processing. We really left."
"We really did."
"What about all those people? The dinner, the speeches—"
"Babe." I leaned forward. "Do you honestly give a shit about any of that?"
Quiet. Then: "No. Not really."
"Exactly. This day was supposed to be about us. Not my father's business associates." I sat back. "Besides, Robert's probably having the time of his life, complaining about his rebellious son."
She laughed. "You're terrible."
"You married me anyway."
"I did." She looked at her ring, diamonds catching the light. Her voice dropped. "Sunny... your father's really going to be upset, isn't he?"
"Probably apoplectic. He'll survive." I reached across and took her hand. "Stop worrying about Robert. The only person's opinion I care about is sitting right in front of me."
Her cheeks flushed pink. Even now, I could still make her blush.
"Where are we actually going?"
"Italy. Amalfi Coast. Private villa, no tourists, just us for two weeks."
Her eyes widened. "Two weeks? But my classes—"
"Already handled. Talked to your professors last month."
"You—" She stared. "You planned this a month ago?"
"Had to make sure everything was perfect for my wife. Give you a real break."
Rainey set down her hot chocolate and climbed into my lap, straddling me. She cupped my face in both hands.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"For kidnapping you?"
"For knowing exactly what I needed." She pressed her forehead to mine. "For always knowing."
I wrapped my arms around her waist. "It's selfish. I needed it too. Time alone with you. No pressures, no schedules, no three hundred fucking people watching."
She kissed me—slow and deep and grateful. When she pulled back, her eyes were shining. "I love you, Sunny Hayes."
"Love you too, Mrs. Hayes." I grinned. "Now go back to your seat before the captain yells at me."
"Make me."
"Babe, do not test me. You're exhausted, I'm barely holding it together, and we're on a plane."
She laughed and returned to her seat.
---
Robert's POV
I stood backstage in the reception hall, adjusting my bow tie in the mirror. My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and felt my blood pressure spike.
"SUNNY HAYES!!!"
My roar echoed through the backstage area. Staff members jumped. Gabriel nearly dropped the champagne bottle he was holding.
"Find them!" I bellowed at the nearest security guard. "Search the entire goddamn property!"
Gabriel cleared his throat delicately. "Sir, perhaps Sunny simply—"
"I don't give a damn! He has three hundred guests waiting for him out there! The first toast is supposed to happen in ten minutes!"
Five frantic minutes later, the head of security returned, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.
"Sir... the young master and Mrs. Hayes have already left the property. They're en route to the private airfield."
"Then stop them!"
"Sir, the plane is scheduled for immediate departure. By the time we reach—"
"Call the pilot! Tell him to delay!"
"The pilot isn't answering, sir. I believe his phone has been... disabled."
I felt my face go from hot to absolutely scorching. I grabbed the champagne bottle from Gabriel's hands and took a long drink straight from it, not bothering with a glass.
"That boy," I growled. "That goddamn boy."
But then I found myself staring out at the elaborate reception hall through the backstage curtain—the ice sculptures, the floral arrangements that cost more than a car, the three hundred guests milling about in their designer clothes, expecting a show.
My mouth twitched. Then twitched again.
"Sir?" Gabriel asked carefully.
I let out a long breath. And then—God help me—I started to laugh. It came out rough and rusty, like I'd forgotten how, but it was definitely a laugh.
"Just like his mother," I muttered, shaking my head. The champagne was making everything a little softer around the edges. "Marcella did the exact same thing at our rehearsal dinner. Walked out halfway through because she was 'bored of pretentious conversation' and made me chase her all the way to the beach." I took another swig. "Stubborn as hell, both of them."
Gabriel's expression softened. "Shall I make an announcement to the guests, sir?"
I straightened my jacket, pulling myself together. "Yes. Tell them the bride and groom send their apologies, but they've decided to start their honeymoon early. The reception will continue as planned." I paused, then added, "And Gabriel? Open the top-shelf liquor. All of it. If I'm dealing with this circus alone, everyone's getting properly drunk."
Gabriel allowed himself a small smile. "Very good, sir."
As he left to make the announcement, I pulled out my phone and looked at Sunny's message one more time.
Took my wife on our honeymoon. Handle the reception yourself. Peace out ✌️
Despite everything—the chaos, the social embarrassment I'd have to smooth over tomorrow, the three hundred confused guests—I found myself smiling.
"You goddamn little peace of shit," I said fondly to the empty room.
I took another drink and headed toward the stage. Time to face the music.