Sebastian and Taylor filed into the classy lobby of the Biltmore, intimately taking in the venue that would most certainly change their lives forever. Usually, the bride’s parents would pay for the wedding, but Sebastian had insisted that they allow him to cover all expenses. He didn’t want to take credit for it publicly but he’d gone out of his way to explain it on numerous occasions. He looked at their wedding as the ideal opportunity to show Taylor and her family how much he cared about them. He’d been saving for the day his entire life—it was in his head long before he found Taylor. Whomever fate saw fit to be Sebastian’s soul mate would never need to worry about a thing.
Dorian, their wedding planner, poked the up button and waved them over just as the elevator arrived. “Right this way!” he said with a smile and enthusiasm that would’ve jumped out from the crowd had there been one. But the Biltmore was barren. No guests busily stirring about and rushing in and out. It was empty, all but for a pair of maids preparing a cleaning solution near the restroom.
Sebastian moseyed over with his arm tangled relaxingly with his soon-to-be trophy wife’s. Sure, he’d just turned thirty-two but he was years ahead in maturity. A lifetime of excessively responsible, frugal, and more often than not, downright boring approaches had made the blueprint possible.
Carving out an administrative role for himself at an upstart internet advertising company had left his bank account with premier client branding. Pairing that personal stability with a sound knowledge of investments spawned the more than promising young man that was nearing the million-dollar mark staring back at him in the mirror every morning.
Taylor knew it wouldn’t take him long to add another digit. But even more heart-pounding than Sebastian’s already booming success was knowing that once they were married, part of that fortune would become hers too. There were now only a handful of formalities left separating her from a stress-less golden future.
She looked down at her phone as they entered the levitating cell: 117 new text messages, 302 new emails, and 36 missed calls. The novel-worth of communication was all from that day. The always social butterfly couldn’t sleep a wink without clearing out the queue first. Taylor was a chameleon, it was all a progression for her—find the meal ticket, “fall in love,” enjoy the wedding and festivities that lead up to it, then, when the time is right, cash out.
As they ascended, stimulating imagery populated her skull; high fashion, stardom, indulgence. And the best part was that she would be at the center of it all.
Taylor knew she deserved so much more than the mediocracy that had been allotted to her, and finally, it was only a cunt hair away. The outline of her carefully premeditated and monetarily fruitful future dispelled her depression and raised her psyche to scream-worthy heights like a potent drug splashing into her bloodstream.
She leaned up against the wall as she watched the floor indicator continue upwards. A well-acted and believable abuse scandal followed up by a few court dates would see her quickly rid herself of the pale fat boy, but not his surging wealth. She saw herself somewhere like southern California or maybe Florida, preparing for luxury and finding the dreamboat stud she’d sculpted while fantasizing during her finger-flick sessions.
She looked at Sebastian’s chubby cheeks and pinched the left one, pulling him in for a kiss. Dorian waved his hand toward his collar as if to say, ‘it’s getting hot in here!’
Taylor didn’t feel bad for him, mostly because she couldn’t. It was one of the perks of being a sociopath. All she saw was the light at the end of the tunnel. A daiquiri in between her shimmering and snowy manicured fingertips and her toned to excess body caramelizing from excessive doses of religious poolside sunbathing.
The socialites would flock to a flashy persona such as hers at the gym or nightclubs. She’d be in the settings she’d day-dreamt about, eventually acting as the new leader of a crass clique of people with a similar shallowness. The people she fancied and identified with. And it would all be happening in less than a year.
She didn’t want to rush the plan and make it feel the slightest bit unnatural or questionable. She wanted to do things right, everything had to be perfect and it would be. Everyone knew the story, it’s one that was true more often than not.
The story goes that a relationship is perfect, the man is everything any bloodsucking babe would kill for. Then they get married, and suddenly, something sinister begins to blossom. Suddenly, the charming man contorts into something entirely different. He’s controlling. He’s manipulative. He’s demanding. He’s aggressive. He’s filled with pure rage. But most importantly, he’s violent.
She already had a few ideas that might be a little painful, but each cut and bruise she manufactured upon her body would be accompanied by the sound of a cash register ringing. She would accumulate dozens of hushed incidents before letting the cat out of the bag. It didn’t matter that Sebastian didn’t have a history of violence. The talking heads always believed a woman.
An alert popped up on Taylor’s cell, causing a vibration against her ass cheek. She fished the device back out again and examined it. There it was, a new ‘Me Too’ piece populating her screen.
The climate was a cog that fit perfectly into her plot-wheel. In an era rife with talk of female empowerment and a bloodlust for the slightest whiff of male misconduct, all she’d need to do was find the right shoulders to cry on and the pitchforks would come out stabbing.
She already had a large enough following to ensure the exposure would generate a scandal with some legs. If she posted the appropriate content to trigger the virtual mob and began to advocate for abused women “like herself,” then Sebastian’s prolific empire would come crumbling down at freefall speed.
Once she’d successfully vilified him, things would be close to a wrap. Taylor would be patiently left waiting to sift through the rubble and pick up the scraps. Those scraps would be beefy enough to vault her into a new stratosphere. She would quickly find herself in an existence of constant leisure and holiday.
She generated an internal sigh as she reassessed his attire—he was painfully plain. Sebastian was a square, more vanilla than the play calling of a pre-season football game. He was formal, intelligent, and sweet, but anyone who knew either of them could see from a mile away that something wasn’t quite right about their arrangement.
Those who knew Taylor understood what the deal was, it wasn’t like they needed to run the query: “So, why are you marrying a guy that is completely out of your league?” Before they even internally pondered the question, they’d found themselves reciting the answer: “Oh, the fucking money, of course.”
The elevator finally came to a jerking halt and Sebastian and Taylor locked eyes once again before exiting. While they were both completely different, Taylor didn’t hate being around him. He was robotic and dull but he always allowed her space. He never whined or complained or acted emotionally clingy in the slightest. Maybe that was what she liked most about him… she didn’t really have to be around him at all.
Sebastian didn’t get butthurt about the distance kept in the slightest. She was a ghost anywhere from four to five nights a week. Bar-hopping, flirting, getting wild with her girls, and fucking raw with a reckless abandon were just a few of the things that she was always free to do.
The level of wild unadulterated liberation was remarkable. The type that a drop-dead hottie like herself wasn’t accustomed to. Nearly every other guy she’d ever been with tried to pin her under their thumb, knowing that the second they left her side, some suave cocksucker at the bar doused in cheap cologne would be buying her a martini and hoping for sex on the beach.
There had even been a handful of evenings that she didn’t return home at all, yet somehow, there was no reaction on Sebastian’s behalf. It bothered him so little that it was after one of these evening benders of Taylor’s that he planted one knee on the Maison hand-knotted rug and popped the question.
She’d become so outwardly comfortable with her debauchery that she hadn’t even had a chance to wash the dried cum shots from her highlights before she saw him. The moment happened quicker than she’d expected, but at the rate they were going, she could count on being finished with the whole charade even faster than initially anticipated.
The potential ballroom was on the 13th floor, which the Biltmore considered the 14th presumably due to old superstition. Dorian moved forward, leading the cheerful couple down the hallway and up to the already open doors.
They’d both rushed into the planning, eager for their own reasons. Sebastian offered to let her choose everything, and price wasn’t an issue. After all, it was her special day. He’d even sought out Dorian to be at her disposal.
Dorian was one of the highest-rated wedding planners in the entire country as evidenced by the smorgasbord of five-star reviews that Sebastian had screenshotted and presented to her from years past. He would see to it that their ceremony was as modern and majestic as it could possibly be.
Dorian knew that the lone request Sebastian had asked Taylor to consider was the reception venue. The old hotel was a spot that he’d grown fond of in a love at first sight kind of way. A place that held deep nostalgia for him. A place he’d stayed at with his family as a child.
Understanding the importance of coming to an agreement, Dorian speedily arranged the viewing. Now that they were both in front of it together, he would be eager to learn what Taylor’s take was. Once he knew how she felt, he could start getting on with the rest of the major preparations. Based on everything else Taylor had been blabbing about, he knew that almost any detail of the wedding was not going to be an easy sell.
“This place is just… it’s breathtaking. Just like I remembered it,” Sebastian gushed unsurprisingly.
Dorian perked up, excited by his reconfirmation. He knew it brought them one step closer to locking down the location. He knew a place as ostentatious as the Biltmore Hotel should generate immediate infatuation, but he also knew Sebastian hadn’t seen it in years. He was relieved to validate that his opinion hadn’t wavered.
“This venue is fabulous, absolutely to die for. You can literally do anything you want in a space like this. This is exactly where I’d be getting married if it was up to me,” he said, smiling at Sebastian.
Dorian turned back to Taylor, “But the important question is, what does the soon-to-be missus think?” The queerness in his voice was flamboyant. The look of wonder cast upon him asked if he might be in for his easiest sell in history that morning.
“If there is any doubt, I would also add that the hotel hasn’t even officially relaunched yet. There will be no guests here to bother you, no unnecessary distractions. Getting a venue like this entirely to yourself is, well, it’s unheard of. Just you, your guests, and a few of the hotel staff. In all my years of planning, I’ve never seen the stars align like this for a client.” He was laying it on thick, but at the same time, he wasn’t lying. The setup was legendary, truly once in a lifetime.
Tears started to well up in Taylor’s eyes and a grin of excitement manifested below. Her wedding would be so much better than anyone else’s. The beauty of the venue would stop just short of matching her own. People would comment on the event endlessly and she would gain an incredible amount of clout as an influencer with a nuptial that bordered on royalty. The event would be talked about FOREVER.
No one in her cynical circle would ever have the financial aptitude, resources, or flat-out luck to outdo it. It would be a celebration for the ages. The salty warm water began pouring down her cheeks. All eyes would be on her.
“Well then, it looks like we have our answer,” Dorian confirmed with a smile of his own stretching ear to ear.
