“Hi,” she said when she saw me, perking up. She was about forty, nice-looking in a MILF sort of way, her blouse buttoned a little too high. She looked friendly, though. Shouldn’t be too hard to get what we needed.
“Hey, sweetheart.” I’d put on my cap and pulled it low; no idea if she recognized me. “Looking to get married.”
“Great,” she said. “We’d be happy to accommodate you. It’ll just be a bit of a wait. There’s a ceremony in progress and another couple ahead of you. About… forty-five minutes?”
I leaned casually on the desk and looked her in the eye. “How about instead I give you whatever you make in a month, right now, to clear this place out and marry me and my girl.”
She stared at me, a little speechless, but I could see the wheels turning. She glanced guiltily at the wedding party who were chattering excitedly on the other side of the room.
“Oh, yeah,” I added, tapping the small glass display case next to the desk, “and I’m gonna need a couple of rings.”
Minutes later, I walked back out to the limo, reached in and took Maggie by the hand.
“Who were all those people who just left, looking pissed?”
Damn. The girl didn’t miss much.
“Don’t forget your flowers,” I told her as she scooted toward me.
“Got ’em!” Dizzy’s date, behind her, held up the bouquet triumphantly.
Maggie scowled at me as she climbed out of the limo. I held onto her hand and steered her toward the chapel door. The woman from the reception desk was holding it open for us.
“I saw a woman in a bridal dress, Zane.” Maggie craned her neck to see over the limo, where the wedding party I’d just had kicked out was piling into a couple of taxis. “She did not look like a happy newlywed.”
I ushered her into the chapel, shrugging. “Must’ve called it off.”
Maggie narrowed her eyes at me, but didn’t call me on my shit.
Dizzy and his date, some ditzy-looking chick in a tube dress who could barely be out of her teens, followed us inside.
When we’d knocked on the door to his hotel room, both Dizzy and Maggie had been stunned when I’d formally asked him for his daughter’s hand in marriage. He’d given his consent, looking way more astonished than I’d expected him to be. Apparently Maggie was right that he didn’t take her seriously, either as a member of Dirty’s management team or as a woman I’d be fucking lucky to marry.
Just sealed it for me that we were doing the right thing. Maggie’s old man needed to be put in his place.
Keeping my word to her, I’d made him promise not to tell a soul about the wedding until we said he could. Told him this was our night, Maggie’s and mine, and we didn’t need our relationship turning into a three-ring circus in the media. On that condition, we’d invited him to attend the wedding.
Pretty sure it would kill him to keep his mouth shut on this, but he’d do it for the honor of attending my wedding. And no mistake. The man was definitely more jacked about the fact that it was my wedding than his daughter’s.
Such a prick.
He’d then produced this chick from somewhere in the shadows of his hotel room and insisted on bringing her along, and Maggie didn’t seem to have it in her to refuse him. But as long as she kept her mouth shut, I didn’t have a problem with it either.
We stood over to the side of the lobby as the double doors into the main room opened, and the wedding that had just finished cleared out. Maggie shook her head as she watched the staff usher out the bride and groom, a little too hastily. Then she leaned in and murmured in my ear, “You’ve got serious impulse management problems. You know that, right?”
“What I’ve got you for,” I whispered back. I leaned down, nuzzling her neck and inhaling her sweet scent. “Managing all my impulses…” Then I reached around to grab a handful of her sweet ass and gave her tight cheek a slow squeeze for the first time ever.
I liked it. A lot.
She rolled her eyes but her cheeks flushed a little, and Maggie never fucking blushed.
I liked that, too.
The reception lady guided us over to the ring case and asked Maggie which wedding bands she wanted. Dizzy tried to butt in with his two cents, but Maggie wasn’t interested.
“I just want to marry Zane,” she announced sweetly, her arm wrapped around my waist, her other hand on my chest. “I don’t care about the rings. Just pick whatever you like, sweetie.” She fluttered her eyelashes up at me. I crossed my eyes and stuck my tongue out the side of my mouth. She giggled, which was totally un-Maggie. Maggie had a sexy, husky laugh.
She was really laying this shit on thick for her dad’s sake.
Dizzy was either too wrapped up in his date or too clueless about his daughter to notice anyway. Probably both. But Maggie managed to steer him away, feeding his ego by asking for his input on a bunch of things I was pretty fucking sure she didn’t give a shit about. Should his date be her maid of honor? Should we use the bouquet we’d brought, or use some of the flowers offered by the venue?
While they were distracted, I picked out some rings and took a look around.
It was a cheesy theme chapel, and the theme was rock ’n’ roll. I’d gotten the recommendation from the hotel, but in keeping my word to take care of things myself, I hadn’t let them call ahead for me. Was pretty sure I could make this happen with a little money. Didn’t occur to me until the dude who was about to marry us asked me to sign a copy of a framed Dirty
