by Dee Palmer
“Jason.” She sighs my name as a heartfelt plea, even if my statement caused a flash of colour to her cheeks and a sweet sexy smile to tip her lips.
“Fine.” I groan out through gritted teeth. Reluctantly releasing my hold, she spins on her toes away from me to gather her bag and slip her strappy sandals on. I take a moment to adjust myself and challenge the wisdom of going commando when I take her in. She turns to face me, flushed, gorgeous, and all mine.
She looks absolutely stunning in a floaty, pale pink summer dress that skims her body and hangs some way below her knees. When the sunlight catches the silky material there is just a tease of her tempting curves that lie beneath, fleeting glimpses before she moves and the shadows once again modestly hide her attributes.
“Ready.” She beams and her voice has a sing-song lilt of pure joy that makes my chest damn near swell tenfold with the exact same feeling.
“As I’ll ever be.” I hold my hand out, and she slips hers into mine. For the first time in just under a week, we exit the room. It was fucking heaven.
The promenade bustles with bodies and we weave our way through the crowds of tourists and street vendors, selling a pastiche of all that Venice has to offer as souvenirs, replicas and miniatures, from masks to gondolas, t-shirts and totes. Gabriel is standing at the rear of the yacht on the mid-deck, and he raises his hand, acknowledging us as we approach the Ambrosia. I tip a nod, and Sam waves enthusiastically and leads me up the gangway with a bounce in her step. I take comfort that she’s happy, and I know without a doubt I’m the cause, from that first kiss at the Gathering and reinforced every minute of the last five days. That is only a mild sop to having to endure this lunch meeting with Gabriel.
I wasn’t lying when I said Gabriel doesn’t have friends. He only has ulterior motives. My phone buzzes just as I step foot on board, and Sam freezes and turns to face me. Her eyes are wide and she’s biting her bottom lip with worry.
Swiping the screen I can see it’s a local number.
“You’re going to have stop worrying every time my phone rings at some point, beautiful.” I squeeze her hand before letting go.
“Maybe. Who is it?” I show her the screen and she shrugs it off, equally clueless.
“I don’t know, it’s a local number though.” I press the call button and take the call. Sam surprises me by turning and skipping away, disappearing up the stairway. I thought she’d want to listen in, given the concern on her face, but then I have promised to tell her if I received another threat and there is no way I’m risking this shit again. That in itself tells me she trusts my word.
“Ciao. Signore Sinclair?” the female voice asks.
“Sì.” I know my Italian accent is pretty good but she still slips into faultless English.
“Ah good, Mr Sinclair. You said you wanted to be notified if we had a cancellation?”
“Cancellation?” I repeat even though I heard her perfectly. Didn’t I?
“Yes, this is the Palazzo Cavalli. We have had a very unfortunate last minute situation with the planned ceremony for this afternoon. The bride’s mother has taken quite ill and they have postponed. If you are able to come today—”
“What time?” I’m curt, though I can’t even pretend to feel sorry, because this is a fucking dream come true.
“Three o’clock, signore. I understand this is very short notice, only you did say—”
I cut her off with an equally abrupt declaration. “We’ll be there.” I end the call and take the steps after Sam two at a time. I hear Sam’s warning.
“Do not repeat that Gabe, unless you want to be eating this amazing lunch you’ve laid on through a straw.” She speaks with a wasted whisper.
“Repeat what?” In a few long strides I’m standing behind a seated Sam and towering over both her and Gabriel seated at her side. He reaches for his wine and waves his hand dismissively.
“I was just saying, I have never seen the room clear so quick after your little display the other night. Most of the guests thought it was all part of the show and were so damn horny we couldn’t open the rooms up quick enough,” he chortles.
“Why should he not repeat that, Sam? I’m taking it as a compliment.” I don’t particularly care what people thought, that wasn’t why I was there.
“He wasn’t finished,” Sam mutters and then groans into her hands as Gabriel continues with a broad and smug smile.
“I have had several very handsome offers for a turn on the cross with my Mistress here.” He pats her knee, and I tug her chair away so he loses his hold. He narrows his eyes at me and continues, “I was just negotiating when you so rudely interrupted.”
“Oh God.” Sam’s head popped up for an incredulous open-mouth gawp at Gabriel before dropping her head back into her hands.
“You’re funny, Gabriel, I’ll give you that.” I let out a flat, humourless laugh and lower my voice to add the necessary impact to what I need to say. “However, if you ever refer to my wife as your anything, you won’t need that straw she mentioned.”
“Okay boys, now calm down, put your willies away. Jason, yours is by far the biggest.” She states this as a matter of fact. Damn right. “Come and sit down, and I’m not your wife.” She pats the empty seat on her other side, but I shake my head.
“Yet,” I counter. “Come on, we’re going to fix that, right now.” Sam cocks her head and gives me a placatory smile. “He’s only joking, Jason. There’s no need to be like this. Let’s just eat and play nice hmm?” She pats the seat lightly again to encourage me down.
“Oh I don’t give a shit about Gabriel.” I turn and give him a slight shrug. “No offence.” Honestly, I have long since moved on from worrying about Gabriel’s games.
“None taken.” He raises his glass to me, then sips as if toasting my statement.
“But we have to leave. There’s something I need to get from the hotel safe.” I twist her chair and pull her up. Her face is a cute mix of utterly confused and slightly irritated. I press my lips to hers firmly and smile against our connection.
“Jason, you’re making no sense.” She pushes me away and breaks the connection.
“We’re getting married at the Palazzo in an hour, so we have to hustle, baby.” I look at my watch briefly and start to tug her to follow me.
“You are?” Gabriel coughs around his wine, wiping the splatter from his chin with the back of his hand. He looks almost as comical as Sam does with her mouth dropped open in shock.
“I am?”
“Yes, you are… I mean we are. They’ve had a last minute cancellation. Sofia had all the documents, which I gave them when I arrived. I just told them to let me know. I wasn’t expecting this, but I’m not going to lie, it will make me the happiest fucking man alive if I get to leave this place with you as my wife.” I use my index finger to tip her dropped jaw shut and slide my hand to cup her cheek.
“Don’t, you’ll make me cry.” Gabriel mockingly dabs his eyes with a serviette, and Sam fires him a deathly scowl before I can tell him to fuck off.
“Really? We’re doing this?” She snaps her head back to me, a tentative smile beginning to take hold.
“Yes, beautiful, we’re doing this. We can do it all over again with everyone when we get back to the UK, if you want, but right now, the only thing I want is you. Just you and me, baby.”
“You, me, and baby.” She places her hand over her belly, and I get a hit in my chest that knocks the wind right from me. I nod slowly, taking in her gesture and draw in a deep breath.
“Yeah.” I press my hand softly over hers that is resting on her bump, clenching my fist with the other when I hear Gabriel make some indiscrete retching sounds.
“One more noise from you, Gabe, and you won’t be invited.” Gabriel holds his hands up in surrender.
“Fine, fine. I am only teasing.” He pushes his chair back and stands to face us both. “Why don’t you go and get whatever you need from your hotel, Jason, and let Sam get ready here. I do believe there i
s something a little more bride appropriate in your room. I will escort her to the Palazzo and we will meet you there.” He offers and I scoff in his face.
“You have to be kidding me if you think I’m going to trust you.” He doesn’t flinch at my insult. In fact, his impassive expression and cool glare seem to soften as he seems to search every inch of her face. He addresses me, but doesn’t take his eyes off of her.
“You see, Jason, that’s where you are very much mistaken about my intentions. I have only ever had Mis—” He wisely corrects himself mid-word, and Sam snickers at my low warning grumble “Sam’s best interests at heart, and even I can see this is going to make her very, very happy. Look at her, she glows in your hands, Jason. You are the luckiest son of a bitch this side of me.” For once, I find myself in totally fucking agreement with the man
“Yes, I am.” I roughly pull her close and cover her mouth in a proprietary move, my tongue diving between her sweet lips when she gasps. She’s breathless and flushed when I break the kiss, and I hold her a little longer until she has stopped swaying. “Okay, Sam. You have twenty minutes to get ready and get this sweet arse to the Palazzo, think you can do that?”
“Just try and stop me.” She exhales, and the smile that dominates her flawless face, not only makes my day but is about to make my fucking life.
I race back to the hotel. I don’t need to change since Sam made me wear a fucking suit for the lunch, so I know I look smart enough. I just need to pick up the wedding gift I bought for Sam and brought with me. In this instance, I wasn’t being a cocky bastard, actually, I thought the opposite. Either way, if she didn’t want anything to do with me, I still wanted her to have it. It belongs to her.
When I arrive at the Palazzo, there’s about ten minutes to spare and still no sign of Sam and Gabriel. I’m not worried—well, I’m mostly not worried. The building has been transformed from the other day, with chairs set out in rows, each with thick white silk ribbons tied to the back. The columns are also draped with white ribbon and entwined with flowers and vines. Plinths and vases, bursting with blooms, line the room, and the aisle is edged with candles leading up to where the marriage officiant, a man called Fabio Romano, is waiting. Whosever wedding this was, they had ticked every box in my book at least,
The room looks stunning, oozing romantic elegance. There are even musicians posed in the corner of the room, and I just hope Sam doesn’t mind the fact that there are no guests.
My breath catches when I turn at the first note from the quartet, the “Wedding March”.
Gabriel puffs his chest out, pulls his shoulders back and stands tall before grinning down at Sam. I can see her beam in return. Her eyes are wide with wonder as she takes in the room. Then they settle on me, and my chest tightens so much I have to fight to draw my next breath. I catch Gabriel wink at me as he starts to lead her down the aisle. Wow, just wow. She’s wearing a floor-length, white, silk dress, with thin lace straps and her hair is loose and long, cascading in dark curls and clipped at one side with a small spray of flowers and something sparkly which reflects the sunlight blazing in through the large French windows.
She reaches me, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt more anxious in my life. Taking my hands in hers, we both exhale with the comfort that small contact brings. She lets out a second puff with a tense laugh, and I pull her to me, thread my hand into her hair, and kiss her, hard and quick. I tell myself it’s to calm her nerves but it’s just as much to ease mine.
“You look breathtaking, Sam. Stunning.” My greedy gaze quickly rakes her silk-clad body.
“My dress back home was nicer, still this will do.” She gives a light shrug, her tone and smile are so joyful I know she isn’t really bothered.
“We can do it all again, beautiful, when we get back, with your dress, everything and anything else you need.” I don’t care if we do this a hundred times, as long as we do this right now.
“I have everything I need right here, Jason.” Her eyes shine, her whole body seems to glow with life and love.
“Good.”
“Besides, I wouldn’t fit into it…again.” She laughs and Signore Romano is about to interrupt when I raise my hand to halt him.
“Not yet, signore.” He mutters a begrudging concession, and I shrug it off. Nothing is going to dampen my utter fucking joy today.
“Just one more thing before you start.”
“Jason?”
I smile so wide my cheeks hurt even as Sam’s worried glances flit between Signore Romano and me. Her question is not so much a warning but sounds more like a prayer.
“I have some restraint, Sam. Give me a little credit. I just had to kiss you.” She visibly relaxes, and I shake my head at her obvious wayward thoughts. I continue before I too get distracted. “I also have to give you this.” I slip the thin velvet box from my pocket and hand it to her. Her brow furrows and then shoots right up when she unclips the latch and opens the case.
“Jason!” she gasps. Her voice is trembling, and her hand flies to her neck as if touching the ghost of the necklace nestled in the silky casing. “Is this…?”
“Yes.” I take the case from her as she slides the necklace free and into her hand.
“My grandfather’s necklace,” she whispers. Her fingers dance reverently over the Cartier natural pearl and diamond necklace that her mother held ransom over her head and which she sold to regain her life at eighteen.
“How?”
“I’ve been looking for it for some time, and I wanted you to have it.”
“You were pretty sure I’d say yes, weren’t you?” she quips with a soft smile.
“Actually, I’ve never been more terrified in my life, but either way, this is yours. I hoped it would be as my wedding gift, that’s all.”
“Thank you.”
My thumb catches a tear from her cheek, and I suck the salt from the pad. She holds the necklace up, and I lean in to clip it round her neck, and slip the case back in my pocket. Her fingers trace along the shiny spheres and I nod to Signore Romano to proceed. Let’s do this.
I don’t hear much of the ceremony, but I damn well hear the part when Signore Romano says man and wife. I will have to thank Gabriel for the loan of the rings. Sam’s is way too big, and the one I borrowed fits just fine, and as symbols go, they did the trick. As I wrap my arms around my bride and kiss her for the first time as my wife, there is nothing symbolic about the feeling coursing through every cell in my body and making my heart beat so damn hard it hurts. Her lips can’t contain the smile long enough to continue the kiss, and she bursts into laughter holding my face to hers as I hold her to me. My wife.
Gabriel and the first officer of the Ambrosia are our witnesses, and we take full advantage of the photographer on hand to capture the day. We pose on the balcony overlooking the Canal Grande and sip champagne in the banquet hall. It feels slightly surreal standing in a semi-circle at one end of the massive, empty room, given that there are only four of us, five including Signore Romano who seems to feel obliged to stay to make up the numbers. It doesn’t matter. There could be a thousand people here and it wouldn’t have made a toss of difference to just how damn happy I am, or how happy Sam seems to be for that matter. Gabriel was right; she fucking glows.
“Wife?” I hold my hand out, and her shy smile is adorable. She places her fingers in my palm just as I pull her briskly into my embrace.
“Husband.” She exhales the words and it sounds as sweet as the breath that kisses my waiting lips. My mouth covers hers, both gentle and possessive.
I release her bottom lip from my own with a soft plop. “First dance?”
“I’d love to.” She beams and allows me to lead her to the modest space in front of the quartet. I guess the other wedding party didn’t intend on dancing much, but this is perfect. The music drifts and fills the opulent room as I glide my amazing bride across the parquet flooring. Effortless and elegant, she moves with me, my slightest touch has her following my lead as if, once again, we
are one.
“I can’t be sorry about today, but I’m serious, if you want to do this again—”
“Shh, it’s perfect.” Her laugh is light and carefree, followed by the most dazzling smile.
“Not an anticlimax?”
“Hardly. Look at this place! Look at you for that matter. If you’re worried about my climax…” She waggles her perfect brow suggestively, and I press my hand firmly on the small of her back and grin as she shudders, feeling my rock solid erection press into her soft form. She giggles, and it’s the sweetest sound mixed with the delicate classical rendition I recognise as “Thinking Out Loud”. I spin her out and back into a final dip low enough for her locks to tumble to the floor. The music fades and the Master of Ceremonies calls us to be seated for the meal. We both laugh because he looks slightly awkward, given that his announcement could’ve been whispered for the quiet that settled in the great room once the musicians had finished.
We are ushered into another room that has lavishly decorated tables, chairs draped in silk, tall glass vases with taller floral arrangements and so much crystal the room actually sparkles with the sunlight pouring in through the wall of windows. They are about to seat us at the top table in a line, which is ridiculous. There are only five of us for fuck sake, since Signore Romano has had a few drinks he seems more amenable to staying for the meal. Gabriel steps forward, and there is a flurry of activity, and a smaller, more intimate and appropriate table is laid in the bay of the centre window, overlooking one of the smaller canals.
“Much better.” Gabriel announces and we all take our seats.
Sam is happy to eat her meal one-handed because I’m reluctant to relinquish my hold. I would have seated her on my lap but we might as well take advantage of the extra seat. The food is delicious and the wine flows. Still, this isn’t a traditional wedding, and I find my tolerance for sharing has worn thin. I’m about to drag my bride away when Gabriel interrupts my thoughts by tapping his glass as if he needs to silence a great audience.