"That woman, she's bloody annoying."
"Who?" I ask, taking in Victoria's erect figure as she stands silent, her lips curved in the makings of a smile.
"Amelie," he snorts, "she talks too much, laughs too much, and have you noticed what she's wearing?"
"Huh?" I glance at her dress, "What's wrong with it?"
"Too much skin." He looks her up and down, "Her legs are too long for her dress. And her hair... Why is she wearing it up? And those fuck me heels? Seriously, you'd think she was trying to attract every male in the vicinity."
"You're attracted to her?"
He laughs, "Not bloody likely." He continues to watch her. "She's not my type."
Amelie turns her head, catches his eye. She draws herself up to her full height and flips him the bird, then turns her back on him.
"What the fuck—?" he sputters.
I laugh, "Yep, she's definitely not your type."
"What do you mean?"
"She has too much spirit for you."
"Hmm." He strokes his chin. "Maybe, maybe not."
Amelie whispers in Victoria's ear and Victoria's smile broadens. Her features light up. My breath catches. She's beautiful, the woman I'm about to marry.
I roll my shoulders.
Married? I am fucking getting married. Had it been a moment of insanity when I’d told her to get hitched to me? Or… I can’t stop my gaze from wandering over her curves. At least, she’s not wearing black. Red. That’s her color. Her dress is conservatively cut, but it clings to her body, highlighting those high perky breasts, the swell of her hips, those long, long legs that I want wrapped around my waist...my head—No, not yet. First, I am going to bend her over and take her from behind as I’ve promised myself. Sheath myself in her virgin hole… Fuck. My dick lengthens. I’ve never cared before about being any woman’s first in any way…but with Gigi… Something about her makes me want to claim every new experience of hers. She is mine to own. To break. To possess. To use in getting to my final goal.
I pull out my phone, cue it up, then hand it over to Weston.
"What’s that?"
“Ask the staff to cue it up over the speakers in the room, will you?"
"Now?"
"Right away."
He snatches up the phone and walks off.
My heart begins to race. Sweat beads my temples. I curl my hands at my sides, then glance over again.
Victoria tips up her head. Our gazes clash—green, emerald seas, stormy with a hint of wariness, fortified with that strength I am coming to associate with her.
She swallows and her lips tremble. I take in her features—her flushed cheeks, the straight set of her shoulders, her stiff spine. She is ready to take on the world, to face anything. The woman has a resilience that belies her delicate build.
I hold out my hand. She draws in a breath. I hold her gaze, jerk my chin. She draws herself up to her full height, hesitates.
She twists her fingers in front of her. Under the skirt of her dress, her thighs move. Is she turned on? Can she sense the imprint of my fingers inside of her, my tongue licking her clit, my mouth biting down on her pussy as I take her to the edge, only to draw back, leaving her waiting, wanting, needing.
The opening notes of All You Need is Love by The Beatles fill the room. The crowd quietens. Her gaze widens.
Come. I curl my fingers.
She takes a step toward me, and another.
I stay where I am, brace my feet against the plush carpets, hand outstretched, stalking her as she closes the distance between us.
When she reaches me, she pauses, glances down at my hand, then back at my face.
I allow a smirk to curl my lips. Make a dash for it. Try to escape. Do it.
She places her hand in mine.
I blink.
The warmth of her fingers bleeds into my skin. Her touch is soft, like the petals of a flower, waiting to be torn from its stem. Her palm trembles and she draws back, but I shackle her wrist with my fingers.
She shudders.
I draw her close, weave my fingers with hers. Stare down into her eyes, drinking from that glimmer of anticipation, of surprise, of…Something more I can’t quite define. Her scent crowds my nostrils—subtle lilies, a dash of pepper, laced with that sweetness that tells me she’s aroused. My groin hardens and my cock thickens. I squeeze her fingers.
"You remembered that I love the Beatles?" She whispers.
"I told you, I'd never forget anything about you." I nod toward the front of the room. "Ready, Gigi?"
26
What did the hamburger buy his sweetheart?
Answer: An onion ring
Victoria
No, I’m not ready. I’ll never be ready. He walks forward and I follow. Not that I have a choice. Not that I am going to resist. It doesn’t matter what transpired before this. I am here… With him now... Next to him, as he moves toward where Edward, the same minister who married Sinclair and Summer, waits for us.
"What about the paperwork for the wedding?" I whisper.
"It’s taken care of."
"But how…?"
He angles an eyebrow, "Does it matter? I am the third richest man in the country. Do you think something like paperwork would get in the way of me from getting what I want?"
Right. Of course. Anything can be bought with money…except me. He probably thinks that’s why I’m standing here in this sham of a ceremony, tying myself to him for as long as he intends to have me? I stiffen my shoulders. I’ve got this. I’ll let him think what he wants. I can get through this. I’ve made it this far… I’m approaching the last mile. This will make it easier for me to keep an eye on him. Surely, the proximity will ensure I can wrangle my way into his affairs.
I lean into him, "What were the results of the blood tests?"
"You're clean. So am I." He angles his head, "Not that we needed to know in advance of
