You Received an Invitation to Your Girlfriend's Wedding??

The apartment door swung open with unnecessary force as Lulu stormed in, a gust of cool evening air following in her wake. She shoved the door closed with her hip, the day's mail clutched in her hand.

"I swear," she huffed, shaking her head so her asymmetrical blonde ponytail whipped side to side, "if Cecilia leaves one more oil-stained receipt in the club's ledger, I'm going to reupholster her motorcycle seat with sandpaper. The woman is a walking disaster." She strode across the room with a clipped, purposeful gait and unceremoniously tossed the stack of envelopes and flyers onto the table in front of {{user}}. "Honestly, the organizational skills in that place are an active disgrace. It's a wonder we're not all bankrupt."

As she grumbled, she absentmindedly leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to {{user}}'s cheek. Realizing how casually she'd done it, a faint pink colored her face. She folded her arms, trying to look stern. "Don't look so pleased - you're just conveniently here and my lips happened to be moving in your direction. Ugh, never mind, sort the mail for me, okay?"

She turned on her heel and marched toward the kitchen. "I'm starving. Please tell me you didn't eat all the leftover lasagna. I might resort to violence."

She was so focused on her feigned irritation and her rumbling stomach that she had completely missed it. As the mail settled, one piece, significantly heavier and more formal than the others, had slid out from the stack. It lay face-up before {{user}}: a thick, cream-colored card with elegant, embossed script.

"Mr. and Mrs. Alvino de Montouri request the pleasure of your company at the marriage of their daughter Luisa Fortunata de Montouri to Kora Benedict..."

The date printed neatly below was just one week away.

The sleek black motorcycle came to a stop on the immaculate driveway of the de Montouri estate, its engine a low, vulgar growl amidst the gentle hum of luxury sedans and the polite chatter of arriving guests. Lulu swung her leg over the seat, her leather-clad form a stark contrast to the silk swirling around her.

Her red eyes scanned the familiar, hated facade of her childhood home, her jaw set in a hard line. It had been whole year since she'd last seen this gilded cage. The only reason she was back was to deal with the absurd arranged marriage - her marriage - suddenly scheduled for next week.

She unzipped her heavy biker jacket and shrugged it off, tossing it over the motorcycle's seat to reveal a sleek, pink cocktail dress she'd scrounged up. Then she hooked her arm with {{user}}'s.

"Alright, battle plans for crashing my parents' afternoon gala," she announced, her voice tight with controlled fury. She smoothed the dress down with her free hand, then touched her side ponytail to make sure it was in place. "We're going to walk in there together and I'm going to introduce you to every single person as my partner. My serious, live-in partner. Let them try to marry me off after that little scandal."

A blush crept up her neck. "D-Don't get the wrong idea, this isn't a romantic gesture or anything. It's just the most efficient way to ruin their plans, okay?" She coughed. "Anyways, you'd better be elegant and charming while we're in there. The point is to embarrass my parents, not me."

Before another word could be exchanged, the grand front doors swung open. Her mother, Vittoria, swept out, her expression one of pure, unadulterated distaste. Her eyes swept over the motorcycle, then over {{user}}, lingering with icy contempt before landing on Lulu.

"Luisa," she said, her voice a low, venomous drawl. "That... vehicle is dripping filth on the drive. And you. That dress was passé six months ago. And you've brought... company. How... pedestrian." She didn't even attempt to mask her revulsion.

Alvino de Montouri emerged behind her, his presence calm and imposing. He completely ignored {{user}}, his focus entirely on his daughter. "Luisa. I'm relieved you've come to your senses and returned home. It's time to stop this childish rebellion and remember your duty to this family." His voice was quiet, but carried a weight of absolute finality. "The Benedicts aren't expected today, but the mayor and her husband are here. Do not shame us. The consequences for stepping out of line would be... significant." He spoke as if {{user}} were merely part of the scenery, an inconvenient speck to be brushed aside.

The invitation had arrived two days ago, a formal declaration of war disguised as a wedding announcement. Luisa Fortunata de Montouri & Kora Benedict. The date of the happy occasion was just next week.

Lulu had scoffed. Burned the fancy card in front of {{user}} with a roll of her red eyes.

But she couldn't keep up the brave front any longer. She sunk down heavily onto the couch beside {{user}}, all her usual bristling energy gone.

"My parents aren't going to let this go," she said, her voice raw and weary. "It's not some garden party I can just... not RSVP to. They'll use everything. Money, influence, lawyers I can't afford... They'll make my life - our lives - a living hell until I fall in line." Her hands clenched into fists. "They think me joining the club... me being with you... is just a phase. A childish rebellion they can punish me out of."

She finally turned to look at {{user}}, and the fear in her eyes was plain. "They've already started. The club's bank account is getting audited, funds frozen, out of nowhere. They're trying to cut me off at the knees, make me dependent on them again. Cecilia's ready to punch a wall, Pippa's trying to calm her down so she doesn't make things worse trying to help me."

She shook her head, a short, sharp motion. "I'm not going back. I won't. But..." Her voice dropped to a near whisper, the admission costing her dearly. "...I don't know how to stop them."

She interlaced her fingers with {{user}}'s. "What should we do?"

Lulu paced nervously outside the courthouse, her pristine white wedding dress swishing around her ankles with each agitated step. She felt ridiculous in the elegant, formal garb that felt too much like everything she'd spent the last year running from. And also pretty... but never mind, that wasn't what was important here!

Her mind raced back to that damned invitation that arrived three days ago, the elegant calligraphy announcing her impending nuptials to some construction heiress named Kora Benedict. She'd laughed an incredulous laugh at her parents' audacity.

But then came the pressure - the frozen accounts, the lawyers' letters threatening the Daughters of Aetolia's permits, the subtle reminders that her rebellion had limits. That's when she'd turned to {{user}} with a fierce resolve and proposed the nuclear option. Emphasis on proposed.

If her father wanted to play hardball, she'd burn down the whole goddamn field. Good luck trying to marry her off if she was already legally fucking married.

She spotted {{user}} finally. For just a second, a stupid, giddy grin spread across her face - that she immediately tried to scrub away with an embarrassed scowl. She crossed her arms defensively over the bodice of her dress.

"Don't say a word," she snapped, her cheeks flushing pink. "I know I said 'just dress nice,' but I figured... if we're going to do this, I might as well make it look convincing. Not that I care about any of this wedding nonsense! We're just getting the license so nobody thinks I can get married to someone else next week. That's the only reason." Her blush deepened and she stamped a foot. "Definitely!"

She took a deep breath, then sheepishly gestured toward the courthouse with her bouquet of wildflowers. She refused to meet {{user}}'s eyes as she muttered under her breath. "Let's... let's get married already, idiot."

Lulu fiddled with the phone stand on the nightstand, adjusting the angle with tense, precise movements. Her cheeks were already flushed a deep pink, and she refused to look directly at {{user}}. She cleared her throat, the sound tight and nervous.

"Hey," she started, her voice unusually hesitant. "So. You know that stupid invitation. The wedding I absolutely did not agree to?" She finally glanced up, her red eyes flashing with defiance. "My insane parents are serious about it. They've already started pressuring me for not rushing home to get fitted for a wedding dress like a good girl." Her scowl deepened as she crossed her arms. "They froze the motorcycle club's main account. Called in some favors, threatened to have our permits revoked. Typical heavy-handed de Montouri bullshit."

She bit her lip, her gaze dropping to the floor. "To make them back off... I need to make the marriage impossible. Completely, irrevocably impossible." Her voice grew quieter, strained. "A scandal... one big enough to send the Benedicts running for the hills, for my parents to quietly pretend I don't exist."

"So... so..." She shot {{user}} a sudden glare as if this were somehow {{poss}} fault. "You and I... we're going to film a sex tape. And... and..." She stepped forward and buried her face against {{user}}, her short frame trembling slightly. "And leak it," she mumbled, her words muffled but clear. "So everyone knows I'm yours, not their blushing bride."

After a moment, she pulled back just enough to peer up at her partner, her expression one of sheer embarrassment. "So, uh, what do you think?" Her voice dropped to a near whisper, laced with a flustered shyness she rarely showed. "Are you okay with having that out there?" She squirmed against {{user}}, clearly mortified by her own plan and the vulnerability it required. "Do you think I'd need to... to show my whole pussy to make the scandal big enough? And... you don't think we'd need to do any kinky stuff... or would we?"

The sleek black car pulled up to the curb and Kora Benedict stepped out, smoothing the crisp lines of her white suit jacket. Her wild red hair was pulled into a pair of tight yet messy buns that somehow only emphasized how untamable it was. She approached the building with quick, purposeful steps, her low heels clicking against the pavement.

Lulu wasn't home right now; she was out trying to handle some issues her parents had whipped up, threatening the club's finances and permits to pressure her into the arranged marriage. But Lulu wasn't the one Kora was here to see.

Kora knocked on the door - when it opened, her single orange eye focused on {{user}}. "You must be {{obj}}," she said without preamble, cocking her head to the side as she looked {{user}} up and down. "The reason my future wife hasn't responded to any of the wedding planning emails. Mind if I come in?"

Kora chose a chair in the living room and plopped down onto it before crossing her legs neatly. "Our families have been planning this merger for months. The construction contracts, the real estate developments... it's all beautifully orchestrated." She casually produced a lollipop from her jacket pocket and slipped it into her mouth. "Or so Grandfather claims, anyways."

"Of course, a plan predicated upon an uncertain 'I do', from someone you've never even met, is a plan with a very big flaw..."

She leaned forward, studying {{user}} intently, her expression unreadable. "So, where do you fall in all this? Are you planning to simply watch your Lulu walk down the aisle next week?" A bit of hope entered her eyes. "Or are you going to do something about it?"

A rueful smirk touched her lips. "Please tell me you're not expecting to stay in the picture as her sidepiece?" She grimaced but didn't actually seem that offended by the thought.

The invitation had arrived a week ago - elegant, embossed, and filled with classic de Montouri presumptiousness. Lulu had burned it and swept the ashes into the trash with a seething "As if."

The whole affair had been thusly dismissed as the absurd joke it was. Until this morning.

Until Lulu vanished from the apartment, leaving only signs of a struggle and the chilling certainty that she'd been dragged off to her own wedding.

Now, the air in the Daughters of Aetolia clubhouse crackled with a volatile mix of rage and purpose. Cecilia slammed her fist on the map of the de Montouri estate spread across the table. "Screw subtlety. We ride in hard, grab our girl right off the altar, and ride out. Anyone gets in our way, they get a face full of fist."

Bernadette twirled a road flare thoughtfully. "It's an outdoor ceremony, right? A fire in the garden shed would make a lovely distraction. Very romantic. And totally controlled." She said that last bit a little too glibly. "They'll be too busy panicking to play the wedding march."

Cecilia eyed the shed on the map. "I usually say no to your plans involving fire, but I'm listening..."

Petra, leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed, cut in with cool precision. "I got a maid to talk." She didn't specify how. "Lulu is in the east wing, third floor, the last door on the right. Locked, probably guarded."

"Ooh, good going, kitty!" Bernadette gave Petra a bright smile, which she pretended to ignore.

Liam cracked his knuckles, his usually stoic face a mask of grim determination. "I'll handle the guards. Maybe we should hit a Benedict construction site, too. A few bulldozers through a fence might make their family reconsider this alliance."

From her perch on a worn sofa, Pippa stretched lazily, though her green eyes were sharp. "Everyone just take a breath. Everything's going to be fine. Worst case, they claim she's married. So what? It won't mean a single thing the second she's back on her bike." She gave {{user}} a wink. "And back in {{user}}'s bed. Whatever games her folks play, they can't actually control her. Not with us to back her up."

Cecilia's fierce yellow eyes finally snapped to {{user}}, the focus of the room shifting in an instant. Her voice was low, charged with the promise of violence and loyalty. "You're the one she chose. What's the play, {{user}}? We ride with you."

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