by Cox, Chloe
Roman looked at him. It struck him as such a ridiculous question at first that he didn’t immediately realize why he considered it ridiculous. As he thought about it a broad smile spread across his face: he wasn’t anything even approaching nervous. He just wanted to get started being a husband to his wife.
“No,” he said, still beaming.
Just then all the lights in Volare’s main room dimmed to almost complete darkness. Maybe moments before the most anxious among them would have started to freak out, two points of light illuminated the floor in the center of the room. Then another two, and another, and another, until there was a slowly moving path leading out to Volare’s own large terrace.
Ava and Catie had, somewhere in the last few minutes, gathered themselves together. The two of them led the entire wedding party out onto a terrace that had been, to Dagmar’s credit, completely transformed. It was almost entirely covered by a roof trellis, wrapped in vines and all sorts of plant life Roman would never be able to identify. There were flowers of all shapes and sizes interwoven with small lights. He thought he smelled honeysuckle.
Still, none of it was Lola.
“Roman,” someone stage-whispered. He followed the rest of the lighted path and saw Stella, Lola’s maid of honor, gesturing with her head. “Over here.”
Roman tried to figure out what was going on with him. He wasn’t drunk. He hadn’t had anything to drink. And yet, he was almost light-headed with joy. By the time he made his way to the small clearing under an arch and took his place near Stella, the rest of the guests had taken their seats.
“Where is she?” he whispered to Stella.
“Hush,” she said, and gestured for him to look back the way he had come.
The guests had gone reverently silent when the lights had gone off, and now string quartet had started playing. Where had that come from?
It didn’t matter. A moment later he saw her.
Roman would never have the words to describe her, in any language. She appeared, and, as had happened before, everything else simply fell away. He watched her float down their makeshift aisle, her curves wrapped in yet another dress that begged to be removed. He supposed that dress was very beautiful, but he doubted it would remain so once he was done with it, and in any event he would, eventually, have to take someone else’s word for it. He simply couldn’t take his eyes of Lola’s face.
No veil. Nothing separating him from her but the space between them, space that Roman saw closing for the last time. Her clear green eyes held him all the way.
The ceremony itself: a blur. Everything a blur. Roman knew he spoke the right words at the right time because things moved along, but he didn’t hear anything besides the sounds of her breathing, didn’t see anything besides her face. He remembered the look on her face when she saw the rings he had bought for them: platinum bands with emerald for him, red diamonds for her. He wanted something to remind him of those eyes always.
He would remember that she mouthed the words to him: I love you.
He would remember that he cried in public for the first time when he said the words back.
He would remember that, a moment later, while Chance was saying something to entertain the crowd, something that couldn’t penetrate their own little world, she gave him an entirely different kind of look. And then she bit her bottom lip.
After that he was just a man with one, all consuming need: to get his wife alone and out of that dress.
Eventually the words ended. Eventually there was applause. Eventually he got to kiss his wife, and it took everything he had to stop at that.
“I need you right now,” he said.
Lola smiled wickedly and looked down the path that would eventually lead to an exit and his—their—apartment, now crowded with well-wishers.
“There’s quite a gauntlet,” she said. “Think you’ll make it?”
He heard a low rumble come from his chest. He didn’t ever mean to do it, Lola just seemed to bring the beast in him out to the forefront.
He didn’t particularly mind.
“The question is whether that dress will make it,” he growled at her.
He caught the satisfying hitch in Lola’s breath as he put his arm around her and began guiding her, at a pretty good clip, down the path.
The first obstacle was Stella.
“Roman,” Stella hissed. “Roman! You guys, I know this is, like, the worst timing ever, but good deeds, right? Good deeds?”
She was holding her cell phone out with such a plaintive expression on her face that Roman knew she must have extended herself for someone or something. Probably someone needy, and something worthwhile. Stella was the kind of person who couldn’t bear to think of anyone feeling badly.
How could he not stop?
“Who is it?” he said, taking the cell phone.
“Don’t be mad.”
Roman felt Lola’s eyes on him. If he looked at her he’d forget all about Stella’s good cause. He closed his eyes instead.
“Who is it, Stella?”
“It’s Harold Jeels,” she said, very quickly. “I know, I know, and I totally agree, but he’s obviously got problems and he’s having a really hard time right now and it’s just so obvious that he could use help, and he’s been trying to contact you to apologize, and…”
Roman put the phone to his ear. “Senator Jeels?”
“Mr. Casta. Please, let me just say…I don’t really know what to say. I don’t have an excuse. I am sorry if I caused you any difficulty.”
The man sounded drained, as though he was ready to give up. Roman sighed.
“Senator Jeels, apology accepted. Do you have any contacts in the scene up in your part of the state? Anyone you can turn to for support at all?”
There was a pause. “No.”
“I’ll get you some. Apologize to them the way you apologized to me, and they will be welcoming. It’s good to be yourself, Senator Jeels. It will be a lot less lonely.”
Roman knew what it sounded like when a man was suppressing tears, and he did the right thing and pretended not to notice.
“Stella will take care of you,” he said, more gently, and gave the phone back to Stella.
He didn’t wait to hear what she said. He scooped up Lola and forged ahead.
“That was very kind of you, Roman,” Lola said to him.
“Oh, God, Lola, I hear you speak and I nearly lose control,” he said.
He doubled his pace.
The next obstacle was Ford.
“Hey, Roman, I know it’s not a great time, but I was wondering…” Ford paused to look at the blonde actress he’d been talking to for the entire evening. “I was wondering if I should go out to L.A. to help with the new location?”
“Yes, fine, that’s perfect, go do it,” Roman said through gritted teeth.
Lola laughed. He would remember that.
“Roman!”
He groaned. It was Dagmar, the wedding planner. She had Denise Nelson and a man with a giant camera with her.
“What?” he roared.
“A photo?” she asked.
Nobody had ever seen Dagmar cowed before. It mattered little; the photographer was happy to get a photo of the groom picking the bride up and running towards the exit like he was returning a field goal.
Roman rushed through Volare and towards his—their—apartment with only the sound of Lola’s peals of laughter in his ears, the smell of her in his nose, the heat of her in his whole body. He thought he’d go mad when he finally got her alone, but what happened instead was that he was mesmerized. He set her down like the precious person she was, suddenly so very conscious of what she’d given him, and in so much awe of it.
He kissed her. He had no idea how long it lasted. Time belonged to people who didn’t have forever.
Lola took the dress off for him, slowly, languorously, letting him savor it. She was still the most beautiful woman in the world. No matter what happened, no matter how many children she gave him, no matter how old they grew t
ogether, she would always be the most beautiful woman in the world.
He almost wanted to cry again when he realized she was his.
Instead, he dropped to his knees so he could kiss every inch, every swell, every curve of her naked flesh. By the time he was up to her face again she was panting heavily, her breasts rising and fall, her stomach muscles taut and her hips moving. He kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her closed eyes, and her lips, and then he said, “Mine.”
“Mine,” she answered back. “Yours.”
They breathed together once more, and then Lola broke first. She clawed at his zipper, freed his pulsing cock, and said, “Oh, God, Roman—“
She didn’t finish. He lifted her high into the air, she wrapped her legs around him, and he lowered her down while he drove his hips up, plunging his length into her in one, shocking thrust.
Together they thought: home.
THE END
Thank you! I hope you enjoyed Roman and Lola’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it, and that it brought you a bit of happiness. :) If you want to know about my next book as soon as it is out, you can sign up for my New Releases List here. And read on for a chance to get a free advanced review copy of the next Volare book (Chance’s story!) by joining my review team!
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And, if you have a moment, please help others enjoy this book too by leaving a review and letting them know what you liked about Marrying the Master. I think it helps other readers choose which books are right for them, and I learn something with every review, too. If you do leave a review, shoot me an email with a link to the review at [email protected] and I’ll send you an advanced review copy of Chance’s story (currently untitled :P). I send out those ARCs to my review team in exchange for an honest review, hopefully about a week or so before the book comes out. (Though sometimes I get my butt kicked by deadlines! Oh man. Ask previous reviewers—my but is thoroughly kicked.)
And oh yeah, like I said, Chance’s story is next! I kind of love Chance, so I’m pretty excited for this one. If you want the very latest, don’t forget to sign up for the new releases list here, or check me out on facebook below.
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‘Til the next book,
Chloe