Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol)

by Fiona Cole

  “I love that.” My family was based around traditions, but none that made me smile quite as much as Nico’s. “I had no idea. I’ve never seen it displayed anywhere at home.”

  I didn’t even struggle in the slightest at calling Nico’s apartment home. If anything, I usually had to stop in shock at how easily it rolled off my tongue.

  “Because I don’t have one. We’ve always just kept them in plastic bags.

  “Were you close with them?”

  “Very,” he said, his gaze dropping. When he looked back, he had a small tilt to his lips but tinged with sadness. “We always traveled together. My dad said that just because work pulled him away from home, it didn’t have to pull him away from his family. He was a good man.”

  “He sounds like it.”

  “When I was too young to travel too much, he’d bring the rocks back to us until we could start collecting them together. Mom complained about them being shoved in a bag in a drawer but eventually rolled her eyes when my dad would tell her there were more important things than decoration. She’d argue because she really did love to decorate, but he’d swoop in and let her know he’d rather dance.”

  “My mama and papa would dance around the kitchen all the time. I loved watching them.”

  “Did they have an arranged marriage?”

  “Yes, and Mama hated Papa when she first married him,” I explained, laughing.

  “Then why did she marry him?”

  “The arranged marriage. My family was built around traditions. My great-grandparents came to the US from Italy and set up Mariano Shipping with the archaic tradition they brought with them from a strict family in Italy. It just stuck.”

  “Until you.”

  “Until me,” I agreed. “I always wanted a marriage like theirs. I never saw when they struggled. Of course, I saw them fight. My mother was a passionate Italian woman, which she said was how she earned Papa’s respect. She said after that, they slipped into love without her even knowing. They worshipped each other, and it destroyed the core of my father when she died. I guess I just never realized how much until now. He hasn’t been the man I remember raising me.”

  A veil slid over Nico’s eyes like it usually did when I mentioned my father. I assumed it happened because of how we ended up in this situation, but a part of me wondered if there was more.

  An awkward silence stretched, and I struggled to fill the void. The day had been nice. We’d talked about the history; he’d explained his favorite parts of Rome, and we ate entirely too much food. We’d been typical tourists, and he’d been kind enough to take pictures of me whenever I asked. He’d even humored me when I asked him to take selfies with me.

  It had been…almost easy.

  And I didn’t want it to end, so I moved to a safer topic.

  “Do you miss work?” I asked.

  We sat on the stone edge of the fountain, the splash of water at our backs, and the soft conversation of tourists surrounding us. He considered my question, looking over the fiery sky.

  “Yes and no.”

  “That clears it up,” I joked.

  He breathed a laugh and shook his head. “It’s kind of nice. I thought it would be harder to not be at the office, but I’ve worked my whole life. I studied the business as a teen, taking internships where I could get them. Once I graduated, I worked overtime to build my business and continue my education. I haven’t really stopped.”

  “I can’t believe I’m going to ask this, but how old are you?”

  He turned to me and smiled. God, his lips were so full. It should have been feminine, but the dark scruff and sharp edges of his face sculpted them into anything but feminine. Nico was all man, and right then, my mind flooded with all the times his lips had been on mine. An ache started low in my stomach to feel them pressed to mine again, and I fought to push it away.

  “I guess we skipped some of the getting to know you parts.”

  “A little.”

  “I’m thirty-five.”

  “Oh, my gosh. You’re a cradle robber,” I mock-gasped with my hand to my chest.

  He rolled his eyes. “Hardly. You’re twenty-three and plenty adult—all woman.”

  His eyes dropped to my chest, and I applauded my choice to wear the padded bra over the lacy bralette. Otherwise, there would have been no hiding how the way he looked at me hardened my nipples to desperate peaks.

  “And no vacations in your thirty-five years?”

  “A few. Some with Grandpa.”

  “Maybe a few trips with all the women you’ve been with?” I asked, trying to make myself believe that Nico probably swooped women away to seduce them, only to leave them. Maybe I’d crave him less if I actually thought he truly was the man who greeted me at the office every day like I was trying to sleep my way to the top.

  Instead of a fond smile of his travels like I expected, he snorted. “Hardly.”

  “What? Can’t entice any woman away?”

  “Oh, no, Verana. I could have had anyone with me,” he said, confidence dripping from his words.

  “So, why not take them?”

  The arrogant smirk faded, and he studied me again, this time like he was curious and not like he could see through my clothes. My heart thudded at the change, and I held my breath.

  “I guess I never found anyone worth traveling with.”

  The words stole the breath I’d been clinging to, and my head swam with his words. Did he mean I was worth traveling with? We didn’t have to go on a honeymoon. We could have said our I dos and gone right back to work like normal.

  His eyes reached mine, and my body swayed like it had a mind of its own, desperate to taste his lips again.

  “A picture?” a heavily accented voice asked.

  I blinked, jerking back and looking to the short man, holding up his hands like he would a camera.

  “Can you take our picture?” He gestured to the stunning woman behind him. “A few, please,” he clarified.

  “Um, sure.”

  Nico and I stood up, and the couple took our place. She wrapped her arms around him and looked up into his eyes. I snapped a picture, wanting to capture the moment. Their love so palpable, my heart beat quicker for them. Then he leaned down, and she met him halfway, their lips crashing with passion. He pulled her close and unsure if they wanted such a moment documented, but needing to do so anyway, I continued to click the red button. They glowed in front of the white stone, and blue water illuminated among the darkness. Their love was beautiful, and I hoped they cherished the photos forever.

  “Thank you,” he said when they pulled back. “This is my wife. Fifteen years.”

  My smile grew, hearing the pride in his voice, and I gestured to Nico. “My husband. Only a couple of days, though.”

  “Newlyweds,” the man almost shouted with joy. “I take your picture.”

  “You don’t—” Nico tried to say.

  “Nonsense,” the man interjected. “Go. Hold your bride by the fountain.”

  Nico slipped his arms around my waist, brushing the patch of skin bared between my crop-top sweater and high-waisted flowing skirt. My fingers crept around his body, secretly loving every ridge and dip I encountered on their way to his side. He held me close, and we smiled.

  Before we could step away, the man held up his hand. “No. You must kiss. My wife—we kissed here when we marry, and we happy still.”

  “Oh, I don’t—” I tried to say, terrified that if I started kissing Nico now, I wouldn’t stop.

  This time, it was Nico who interjected. “Of course.” He turned to me, his smile brimming with promise. “Maybe we can make a tradition of our own.”

  His words were light and teasing, but they hit me like a train. Despite the archaic traditions, I loved them. We had many that were passed down, and I’d had faith in what my parents had, hoping I’d have the same happiness they found. Even if it didn’t happen like I imagined, the traditions still had meaning to me, and him saying we’d make our own meant more than
the joke he’d intended.

  “Bene!”

  I turned in Nico’s arms, closing the smallest gap, and gently pressed my fingers to his chest. His long fingers spanned my waist and held me close. His dark eyes shone like an abyss I wanted to get lost in.

  He leaned down but stopped, all promise and joking gone from his serious face. “Are you sure?”

  “About what?”

  “A kiss. I may push you and taunt you because I know how much you want me, even if you won’t admit it, but I won’t corner you into it.”

  Flutters spread like a million butterflies in my chest, and I swallowed past the lump in my throat. I wanted to ask what was so different now than our wedding day, but I didn’t care. The fact that he hadn’t whisked me in his arms and took advantage of the moment sparked something in me that quickly spread like wildfire, and there was no chance of me saying no.

  “I’m sure.”

  As soon as the words passed my lips, his didn’t hesitate. He lifted me to meet him halfway, and we both groaned when our mouths collided. It started off slow, but hard, but quickly my hands scraped up his chest, over his shoulders, and into his hair, holding him to me. I flicked my tongue against the lips that had taunted me all day, and his fingers dug hard into my back. With a moan of surrender, he parted his lips, touching his tongue to mine for only a moment before taking control. I pressed to my toes, pushing my hips against his, whimpering at the hardness I encountered.

  Laughter brought us out of our bubble and back to the reality that we were in public with a man taking our picture. I wondered if when I looked at them, they’d find the same passion I saw in them.

  Nico pulled back, and I quickly leaned in to nip at his lush bottom lip, sucking it between my own before finally settling back on my heels.

  “Careful, Verana,” he growled.

  Unable to meet his eyes after my boldness, I merely bit my lip, slicking my tongue to catch every last taste of him, and turned back to the other couple.

  “Tante passione e amore,” the man said, handing my phone back to me. “I’m sure you will have a long, happy marriage. Bene.”

  In that moment, I wanted to believe him. I wanted to ignore the contract we signed for five years and believe our marriage was real.

  I wanted to be brave enough to admit that I was falling in love with my husband and believe it wasn’t going to break me in the end.

  Twenty-Eight

  Nico

  On day three, Vera’s enthusiasm hadn’t waned in the slightest.

  “This whole thing is ours? I mean, do we—you—own it?”

  A flare ignited in my chest in her mix-up of calling my things our things. “No. We don’t own it. But it is ours for the week.”

  She looked to the luxury yacht, then back to me, then to the yacht, and again back to me, her jaw dropping a little further with each volley. “Nico. It has two whole floors. On a boat.”

  “Actually, three. You can’t see the bottom floor from this angle.”

  “THREE?”

  I playfully rubbed at my ears and winced, her exuberance reaching a new pitch.

  “That’s insane.”

  “Champagne for the newlyweds?” a butler asked as we stepped aboard. He earned his full tip for not wincing at Vera’s squeal of excitement. She grabbed the glass and ran off, poking her head in each door.

  Something had changed after the fountain. We didn’t kiss again, but she looked at me differently when she didn’t think I noticed and sometimes even when she did notice, almost like a schoolgirl smile, full of secrets and blushes. Hell, this morning I’d woken to her pressed to my back, and I’d been too scared to move. She’d woken soon after, thinking I was asleep. I expected her to pull away, but instead, she’d stayed close, and if I hadn’t been mistaken, even leaned in to graze her nose along my shoulder.

  I’d stayed still the entire time, not wanting her to pull away. Instead, I’d soaked in her warmth, letting it bleed into the heat that bloomed like a constant companion in my chest.

  “This is insane,” she said, coming back.

  “So you said.”

  “I love it.”

  I inhaled, soaking her words in, filling my chest with pride. “Good. I figured we’d unload and sunbathe on our way to Naples and then dock for dinner and a night out.”

  Her straight teeth latched on to her wide smile, and she nodded, clapping her hands.

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  “I don’t even care. I’m so damn excited.”

  I shook my head and led her to our rooms. Despite the boat having almost ten rooms, she didn’t argue when I placed our items in the same room. We shared a room at home, but part of me half expected her to argue every step of the way.

  Instead, she grabbed her bathing suit and twirled away to the bathroom.

  Before I changed, I dug through her purse and grabbed her phone, listening carefully for her coming out. I checked to make sure everything was still blocked, and when I was satisfied, I plugged in the USB and uploaded the second program.

  I’d planned this honeymoon specifically to keep her out of the loop. By this point, her friends may have caught wind of what was going on, and I needed to keep her as far away from any information. I planned the yacht because it would be more believable that we lost service out on the water.

  Just as I was tucking her phone away, mine vibrated with an incoming text message.

  Archer: See if she knows any information on the sale of the company when it transferred to L. Need more to proceed without error.

  Me: Get it to you soon.

  Guilt pricked, and my grandpa’s wisdom about honesty in a marriage hit me.

  But like Verana reminded me, this wasn’t a real marriage. This wasn’t born from love like he had with my grandma. This was business. And for me, it was revenge. Guilt had no place here.

  No matter how much her reminders that this was all a ruse created a growing ache in my chest.

  It was business.

  Maybe if I said it enough, I’d push any doubt away.

  I’d barely got my swim trunks on when she came out. When I looked up, I found her eyes glued to where my dick had been hanging out moments before and smiled a victory at her hard swallow.

  However, it was short-lived. When we made it to the pool up top, she removed her swim-cover to bare a skimpy black bathing suit, and I was the one left gawking. Her bottoms were more of a thong than anything and the top covered her cleavage, but a strip bared the underside of her breasts. I clenched my fists at my side, fighting the urge to crawl over her and suck and bite at the pale curves.

  More champagne was brought, but she asked for water, occasionally humming to the music playing through the hidden speakers on deck. I tensed each time she picked up her phone, but she would merely huff and set it aside.

  “Everything okay?” I finally asked.

  “Yeah. My phone is just acting up. I’ve restarted and everything, but I have no service.”

  “If it makes you feel better, mine isn’t getting service either.”

  Her lips pursed, and she looked at the glittering water stretched along the horizon. “It’s just bad timing. Nova is heading on a trip, and it’s secluded with an intense hike. I was hoping to FaceTime her before she left since she’ll be gone when we get back.”

  The guilt rushed back, and I opened my mouth before I could let the risks talk me out of it. “I’ll call the company and see what we can do. Maybe we can at least call her from the yacht phone.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  She still studied the water, occasionally picking up her phone. Each time she’d huff, and I hated the pressure it placed on my chest, squeezing tighter and tighter.

  Needing to distract us both, I turned to my side, propping up on my elbow and resting my head on my hand. The dock had half a dozen loungers, but she sat on the double one with me, and I counted it as a win.

  “You know, sunbathing topless is completely normal in Italy.”

 
; I infused heat and innuendo into my suggestion, and some of the pressure eased when she sat her phone aside and barked a laugh.

  “You wish.”

  “Hell, yes, I do.” She turned her head, and I took my time scanning her entire body, spending extra time on her chest. “You have perfect tits. I remember them in my hand, your hard nipples scraping my palm and begging for my fingers.”

  I tracked the way her chest rose a little harder and faster, looking up her neck to watch it work over a heavy swallow, and to her cheeks, turning redder than the sun could make them. She pursed her lips, and I enjoyed watching her struggle to regain her composure.

  “You just want me for my body.”

  “Not true.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  I wanted her for her connections. I wanted her for revenge. Her body was a bonus—or at least, I had hoped it would be. However, despite not having her body, I found her smiles to be the bonus—her laughter. Not that I’d admit it. Hell, it sat in my chest like a square peg in a round hole; there was no way I could admit it to her when I couldn’t even admit it to myself.

  Instead, I settled on the safety of work.

  “You’ve helped my company with your ideas more than once.”

  Her face softened. “Really?”

  “Yes. Your suggestion to Domenic on the latest project shaved off almost a hundred thousand. I was impressed.”

  “Wow. An actual compliment coming from the man who accused me of sleeping my way into a job.”

  I shrugged, wincing over my harsh treatment of her at the office. “I may have judged too soon.”

  She flipped to her side, matching my position, her breasts bouncing, dangerously close to falling out. But I didn’t know where to look, the alluring flesh taunting me with a peek, or her radiant smile and perfect dimples.

  In the end, the smile won out, and I tried not to think about why too hard.

  “Does this mean different tasks at work?”

  “Maybe…”

  “I’ll take it.”

  “Your very smart, Verana. Your resume speaks for itself—as well as your actions. Your father was a fool to not utilize your talents.”