by Fiona Cole
“Maybe I’ll just sleep in these.”
“Really?” he deadpanned.
“Well, I’d cut them, but I kind of like them.”
“Do you want help?”
“I definitely think it’s a two-man job. And since it’s just you and me, you’re in luck. Strip me,” I proclaimed.
The sweat from all the dancing cooled and made the leather stick to my skin like glue, and in that moment, I didn’t care if I undressed in front of him. I just wanted the damn things off.
We both bowed our heads and dug our hands into the waistband, trying to pull them down. I stumbled again and bumped my head to his.
“Shit. Sorry.”
“Always bumping into me,” he joked.
“Ha-fucking-ha.”
His lips tipped, softening the usual scowl or arrogant smirk. “You swear a lot when you drink.”
“Like a fucking sailor.”
Pulling his hands free, he held mine and guided me to lay on the bed. “This may be easier.”
“I bet,” I muttered, laying back.
He gripped both sides at my hips and tugged. Some pulls had me sliding down the bed with the pants, and by the time he got them down far enough to roll them off, I had both arms around my waist, clutching my stomach in a fit of laughter.
“Jesus Christ. Why bother wearing them?” he asked, out of breath.
“Because I look hot in them.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
He tossed the pants aside, and I stood, lifting my arms up like a child.
“Need help with your top?”
“It’s tight,” I whined. “And everything is spinning a wee bit faster. Just…don’t look.”
I closed my eyes like I was the one not supposed to look.
“Okay.”
His hands skimmed the bare skin of my hips, stroking softly in a way that had nothing to do with helping me take my shirt off, but I just kept my eyes closed and arms up. If I didn’t see it, I didn’t have to acknowledge it, and it could happen. Right?
Right.
He peeled that black, lacy, stretch material up my ribs, and I held my breath when the cool air reached the underside of my breasts. Seconds stretched into what felt like forever, his breathing picking up pace. The material scraped past my nipples with a rush of cool air, pulling them to aching points. He tugged the top up and off.
I dropped my arms to my sides and forced my eyes open, half expecting to find him staring at my breasts. Instead, I found him staring at me. Our eyes collided, and Raelynn’s questions about why I wouldn’t just fuck him came roaring back.
His eyes beckoned me like the snake in the garden of Eden.
Give in. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.
I knew he would. I remembered. And that was at a party, fully dressed—imagine what he could do naked with an entire bedroom at his disposal.
But like I’d said, I didn’t want to want him.
The truth was, that Nico was a choice. It wasn’t an arranged marriage like it had been to Camden. I chose to agree to Nico’s proposal. And when I was little, in the moments I let myself imagine a future that had me choosing my own husband, it was never one who didn’t love me.
I didn’t want to want him—a man who openly claimed he’d never love me.
But I did.
And maybe—just for tonight—I could repeat the gala. If I woke in the morning with regrets, I’d blame it on the alcohol and swear I’d never do it again.
The tension grew like a living thing between us, wrapping around our bodies, urging us closer. It spread across our backs, like a bubble enveloping us in our basic needs.
Despite standing in front of him in only a tiny scrap of lace, his eyes never wandered.
I rested the tips of my fingers at the bottom of his abdomen, a thrill rushing through me when his hard muscles rippled under my seeking tips. Slowly, I lifted each palm, rising higher past his chest to his shoulders.
Using him for support, I pressed to my toes and leaned in.
Only for him to grip my wrists like shackles and tug them away as he stepped back.
My heart stuttered over the quick, hard beat. Doubt squeezed my chest too tight.
“I don’t fuck drunk women,” he said.
Embarrassment washed over me like a bucket of cold water, freezing me on my toes, my wrists in his hands, and my jaw hanging open. All in a scrap of lace that felt sexy moments ago and now felt like that last shred of dignity I had left.
The heat burning in his eyes simmered, and part of me wondered if maybe I’d imagined the whole thing. Had it actually never been there?
Fuck.
Fuck.
I swallowed, struggling to pull myself together, grasping for any emotion—unable to feel anything beyond the alcohol sloshing in my stomach.
Oh, my god.
What a fool.
He’d said he’d fuck me anywhere, and here I was throwing myself at him just for him to reject me.
Was that his plan all along? To have me give in just to turn me down?
Shit. What an idiot.
I closed my eyes to focus, and one emotion shined in the dark. The one that was fast becoming my constant companion. The one that got me to this very moment in a room that wasn’t mine. In an apartment that wasn’t mine. In the arms of a man that technically wasn’t mine. With an engagement ring that should have never been mine.
Anger.
I reached out and clutched it tight like a shield.
Opening my eyes, I clenched my jaw and ripped my arms from his grip. I stumbled, and he reached to steady me, but I sidestepped, resting my hand on the nightstand to keep from falling.
“I’d regret it anyway,” I spat. “Just like all the other women you’ve probably fucked and left with regrets.”
Apparently, my anger sparked his own because a waterfall of ice covered any lingering heat in his gaze, and instead of the almost-smile from earlier, his lips curled into a cruel smirk. “Trust me, Vera. There’s nothing about me being inside your tight little body to regret. What did you say earlier?” He pursed his lips. “The best ever? Like a twenty?”
Embarrassment tried to slam into me again, but I used my shield as a weak defense. “Fuck you.”
“Happily. How about in the morning when you can actually participate?”
I choked on a forced laugh. “Yeah, right. You missed your chance. I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last man on Earth.”
“We’ll see about that.” Confidence dripped from every word, putting a dent in my shield more than embarrassment did.
Unable to form any more arguments as exhaustion crept through my limbs, I held my chin high. Struggling to not cover my chest, I portrayed my own confidence that was all a façade.
I bumped past him, wobbling as I stormed into the closet and clumsily got into a T-shirt and shorts. The shirt was inside out, and the shorts were on backward, but I didn’t care. I had about two-percent life left in me, and I was using every ounce to salvage my mangled pride.
I opened the door to find him still standing there, so I bumped him again and climbed into the right side of the bed.
“Goodnight, Nico. I really look forward to the next five years of not fucking you.”
With that, I flicked off the bedside lamp and rolled over, smiling at my small victory of having the last word.
At least until his low chuckle crept through the shadows like my darkest fantasy, poking holes in my thin confidence.
“Goodnight, Verana.”
Twenty-Three
Vera
“Last chance. You want to run?” Raelynn asked. Her ocean eyes met mine through my veil. She looked like a grenade with the pin pulled but not released. I may not be marrying someone I loved, but I had love around me today. “I already prepped Austin to clear us a path and call it all off. Bruce is on speed dial around the corner with the car.”
“Raelynn!” Nova reprimanded.
“What?” She looked at
Nova like she was the crazy one. “We’re her maids of honor. We wouldn’t be doing our jobs if we didn’t ask her to run.”
“Fine. Vera, you know I’m always in if you want to run,” she said, the perfect supportive friend. Then she focused her pinched brows back at Raelynn. “But still.”
Raelynn shrugged and turned back to me, searching my face for any signs I wanted to run. “Are you hesitating? Because I’m serious. We can run. Platonic, all-girl, love island, here we come!”
She added a shimmy, looking stunning in her pale rose dress.
I laughed, wondering if maybe an all-girl island was better than the current situation.
I looked in the mirror. The veil slightly blocking my view of a woman in all white. The lacy top cutting into a deep v that met at the fitted waist of my dress before flowing out into soft, heavy silk. I hadn’t been sure about the more revealing top, but Raelynn promised it was classy-sexy.
Meeting the dark eyes of the woman looking back, clutching her all-white peony bouquet, she looked so familiar, yet like I’d never seen her before in my life.
Standing taller, I lifted my chin, portraying the defiant courage stirring in the chocolate depths. I may not recognize every inch of the bride in the mirror, but the strength filled me just the same. I was no longer the docile, obedient woman who waited for her future to be chosen because everyone told her it was the right thing.
No. I was Verana Mariano.
And although she looked like a stranger, she was me. She was just a newer version I hadn’t realized had been lying dormant all these years.
“I’m ready.”
“Then let’s go.”
With one last deep breath, I headed to face my future.
To Nicholas Rush.
With each step closer, I thought over the last week after I’d embarrassingly thrown myself at him.
I’d expected to find him gloating the next morning. Instead, I’d woken up to a water bottle and ibuprofen on the nightstand. In fact, we never spoke of it beyond a glare across the kitchen island—he’d sat greasy bacon in front of me when I’d finally found the courage to leave the bedroom, and it pissed me off that he was making it so hard to be mad at him.
Work consumed our days, leaving no room for alone time to face the consequences of my drunk actions. At least, until we both crawled into bed at night. I’d get ready in the guest bathroom to avoid running into him showering. That had happened once, and I’d immediately closed my eyes, running in the other direction like a prude, his laugh following behind.
I considered trying to hide in the guest room, but the petty joy of taking his side of the bed always brought me back to the master bedroom, where I crawled in bed and clung to the edge.
Each night, I’d turn the lights out and feign sleep, but he knew better. He’d repeat the same arrogant chuckle and ask me if I wanted to offer myself up on a silver platter.
“I’d gladly eat you up, Verana. I remember how sweet you tasted on my tongue.”
“Well, hold tight to that memory because it will never happen again.”
“Oh, I do. I hold it tight in my fist every morning—usually in the shower. You could have seen if you’d stayed.”
I’d swallowed my moan, reminding myself that he was a disrespecting man whore. Yet, despite my best efforts, there were times I still woke up in the middle of the night in his arms. Despite hating him and refusing him, I never pulled away, instead, staying put, only to wake up alone in the morning.
Nico got up early to hit the gym before holing up in his office for meetings to prepare for the two-week honeymoon he’d planned.
He’d been so busy that he’d actually given me a job beyond the usual menial tasks. Gasp. I’d gloated when I’d crushed the job, and the client said my ideas were unique and had the potential to reach new heights. It’d forced him to acknowledge my awesomeness. I’d met his dark glare across the conference table with a winning smile. But then his lips twitched to a semblance of a smile, something like pride flashing across his face before he quickly moved the meeting on.
Remembering that moment made me smile all over again, even picking up the pace to get into position.
He may be a dick, but something brewed beneath the surface that intrigued me to go further. No, I didn’t need to run away. Even better—I didn’t want to.
I was ready.
“What the hell, Nico?” Raelynn screeched, stiff-arming me from walking around the corner. Nova scrambled to keep my dress from tripping me up before joining Raelynn to create a bridesmaid barrier—arms out and all. “You can’t see her before the wedding.”
“I just wanted to talk to her a moment.”
A slither of dread coiled its way around my chest and squeezed. Did he want to call it off? Did he have someone asking him if he wanted to run? A friend I hadn’t met? An old lover?
Ohmygod. Ohmygod.
The thoughts brought waves of adrenaline. My limbs shook so hard I almost dropped my bouquet. My vision darkened on the edges as scenario after scenario ran through my head.
I’d have to marry Camden.
I’d be stuck forever.
I glanced at Raelynn’s hand, picturing grabbing it and running.
“You better not be ditching her,” Nova said in the coldest voice I’d ever heard from her gentle soul. Even Raelynn’s head snapped her way in shock.
“I’m not. I just wanted to have a few words—privately—before we said our I dos.”
Relief almost took my knees out, and a giggle broke free because all I could think was that if I was going to pass out, at least I was surrounded by a heavy mass of silk and tulle. It’d be the softest landing ever.
Nova looked to me for permission, and I nodded, pulling myself together.
“Fine.”
“But stay around the corner. No peeking, or I’ll poke your eyes out with my stilettos,” Raelynn threatened.
“Jesus,” Nico muttered, pulling another giggle from me.
“It’s her wedding day. Real or not, it’s special.”
“I assure you, it’s very real.”
“Mmhmm.” Raelynn turned to me. “You okay with this?”
“Yeah. I’ll stay around the corner. Thanks, bodyguards,” I joked.
“Anytime. We’ll wait for you at the stairs.”
Both girls kissed my cheeks and headed out. Nova faced Nico and held two fingers to her glaring eyes before pointing them at him. I kind of wished I could see his face, but despite all this feeling like a hoax, I wanted it to be as real as possible. I always liked the silly traditions, so I stayed around the corner.
“What’s going on, Nico?”
I heard the fabric of his suit rub together, and I imagined him leaning his broad shoulders against the wall to get comfortable. Maybe he had his hands stuffed into his pockets, pulling the material tight across his bulge.
“I’m going to kiss you today, Verana.”
Of all the things I considered him saying, that hadn’t even crossed my mind. It took a moment to process, the rough words rounding the corner to sink into my chest like a promise. Crazily, in all this time, we hadn’t kissed. I knew how roughly his hands palmed my breasts, how hard they gripped my hips. I knew what his tongue flicked like between my thighs, how his cock stretched me to the max. I knew all of this, but I didn’t know how his lips moved on mine.
It was the last line we’d cross, and it felt more intimate than sex.
“Are you sure?” he asked so softly I almost missed it. It lacked the usual confidence he oozed without trying.
“About the kiss or the marriage?” I asked, just as softly.
“Both.”
Was I sure I wanted him to kiss me? Was I sure I wanted to follow through with the wedding?
I hesitated, considering running.
But I remembered the ten seconds of dread that swallowed me whole when I thought he was coming to cancel it all. And if I had to be honest, maybe I looked forward to finally kissing him. Maybe I’d wanted to f
or longer than I’d admit and doing it to lock in our arrangement sounded like the perfect excuse.
Still, I couldn’t give up all control. “I guess,” I answered playfully.
“About the kiss or the marriage?”
“Both.”
He chuckled. I closed my eyes, imagining his chest moving with the deep rumble, his full lips twitching into a begrudging smile.
“Does this mean you’ll let me fuck you properly on our wedding night?”
I swallowed down the yes, sitting on the tip of my tongue. “In your dreams.”
“We’ll see,” he promised.
I rolled my eyes, hearing all the confidence that had been missing before.
“I can’t wait to see you.”
With those parting words that rang with sincerity and something I hadn’t expected to hear from anyone beyond an actual groom who loved his bride, he left.
A moment later, the rustling of dresses announced Raelynn and Nova’s return.
“What did he say?”
“Did he look?”
“Are you okay?”
“You look pale. Do I need to stab him?”
They hit me with a barrage of questions too fast for me to keep up. I held up my hands and laughed. “I’m fine. I think it was just to make sure I actually showed.”
Appeased with my answer, they relaxed. “Okay. Well, let’s get this party started.”
They helped me up the old steps to the narthex, where my father waited, pacing the tiled floor.
I swallowed down the nerves and smiled at Nova when she gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.
Part of me hadn’t wanted my father to walk me down the aisle, our relationship torn into fractured pieces I didn’t recognize. But there he stood, mostly there for appearances—and for Mama. She would have risen from the dead to yell at us both if he wasn’t there for me today.
He stopped when he saw me. His jaw dropped as he looked me up and down.
For a moment, it was the moment I’d imagined as a little girl. He’d look at me with pride, his eyes filling with tears, and pull me into his arms, telling me I was the most beautiful bride he’d ever seen.
I waited, holding my breath.