Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Knox
I’m in one of the side lounges with my father. A decanter of brandy sits between us, along with the last of my responsibilities laid out on the table.
One final contract to sign before Isla and I head home.
No rest for the wicked. Not even on my wedding day.
I’ve got no one to blame but myself. I don’t know how to switch off. I’ll even be working in Italy.
My impromptu marriage landed right in the middle of a crucial deal we’ve spent years trying to close. I’m taking Sheila and my business managers to make sure nothing slips through the cracks.
Mixing business with a honeymoon isn’t ideal, but the distraction will help keep my mind busy—and my dick in check. Though, that might prove impossible.
The instant Isla walked down the aisle this morning, the cool control I’d managed to harness over the past week slipped away from me. Then something unlocked inside me as I slid her wedding ring on her finger and she became my wife. Something primal and raw I didn’t want to control.
It was only quelled during the times my lips were on hers and each time I touched her.
Then I kept thinking of her as my wife, and control slipped again. It didn’t help that she looked so damn beautiful. The kind of beautiful that got under a man’s skin and made him forget why he was trying so hard to resist her.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her. At one point, I found myself so lost in her I forgot my own name.
Fuck knows what I’m going to do when we leave here and I have her all to myself.
Tonight’s mission is to sleep next to her and not touch her. But when we get to Tuscany, Isla and I will have the villa to ourselves for the week. Sheila and the others will be staying in the onsite cottage. It’ll be the first time that Isla and I will be in each other’s company for so long.
My father pours us each another drink and slides my glass back over to me.
“One more for the road. And for luck.” He chuckles, tapping the side of his glass.
“I do need luck.”
He shakes his head. “You were born lucky, son. You do not need luck. Just look at this.”
He holds up the contract we just signed for the Zurich deal.
“We got lucky with that.” I grin.
“No, we got you. I don’t know how you do it, but everything you touch turns to gold.”
“I guess I learn from the best.”
He smirks. “You give me too much credit. Take some for yourself. You should also let your brothers handle the closure of the deal and take a break on your honeymoon.”
“Me? Take a break? Not likely. We’ve been trying to secure Zurich for years. Once the accounts settle, Dorian will coordinate the transfer. Then I’ll close off everything.”
“Locke or Levi can do it.” He nods once.
“And risk them screwing it up?” I loosen my cufflinks, shaking my head.
“They won’t.” He leans back, studying my face. “They’re fully capable of handling a closure.”
“Yes, for hedge funds. Not this. Locke and Levi are like goblins on crack. I can’t trust them with a deal of this magnitude.
” Only today, I caught them stealing Judge Jackson’s toupee when he fell asleep during the speeches.
So, no thanks. Dorian would do a good job, but I’ve already given him plenty to handle.
“I just don’t want you to take on too much.” He straightens and takes another swig of his drink.
“It’ll be fine, Dad. I’ve got it.”
His mouth curves, faint but knowing. “Always in control. Let’s see if marriage changes that.”
“It won’t.”
He laughs, low and amused. “Careful, son. Arranged or not, marriage has a way of binding more than just names.”
“Maybe I’ll be the one to break the rule.” I brush my fingers over my jacket.
“Maybe.” He knocks back the rest of his drink. “I suppose things will be less stressful now that you’re moving into the next phase of your plan.”
Less stressful? I highly doubt that.
Isla and I have this push-and-pull dynamic that’s as feral as wildfire. It ignites the moment I look at her, then burns hotter the longer we’re near each other.
I can’t control her. She can’t control me. The only time we’re not fighting is when we burn together. The kisses. The touches. The tasting.
God, the tasting.
But the countdown starts today. In six months, I’ll hand the beautiful girl who took my name back to the universe.
That’s the plan for us.
The rest is ugly. Isla will hate me when she learns what I plan to do to the restaurant. And when that time comes, I’ll have to look past those big hazel eyes and remember one simple truth—business is business.
Don appears at the doorway. “The car’s ready, Mr. Vale.”
I acknowledge him with a nod. “I’ll be out in a second.”
He dips his head and leaves.
I finish the last of my drink before setting the glass down and meet my father’s observant stare.
“See you when you get back.” His voice is boardroom smooth.
“See you then.” I offer a mock salute then head out the door.
Time to face my wife.
The night air bites cold against my skin as I cross the gravel drive toward the waiting limo. Don’s already by the door, holding it open.
Isla’s inside.
She sits in the back seat, her hands clasped in her lap, eyes fixed on the dark blur outside the window. She doesn’t look at me when I slide in beside her.
The door shuts, sealing us in silence.
I glance at her once, twice. There’s something off. Her posture is way too still and her jaw set, rigid with tension.
“What’s wrong, love?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she says without turning.
Nothing. The one word that usually means everything.
I’ve learned the hard way that when a woman says nothing, it usually means a storm’s brewing and I’m probably the one standing in its path.
Usually, I’ve done something. But if memory serves me right, I haven’t done anything to her today. Except threaten to destroy her ex if he goes near her.
She can’t be mad at that, though. She was fine after we spoke.
So, what has her so wound up?
The silence stretches thin like a live wire between us. Don starts the car, and the soft hum of the engine fills the void where words should be.
Streetlights flicker across Isla’s face, and I get lost in her again. She’s beautiful even in anger, or whatever this is. Quiet defiance suits her. Especially when she knows I’m watching her.
Finally, I look ahead and keep my gaze there, pretending I’m unaffected.
But I feel every moment of it. The distance, the shift, the change in her breathing when I move an inch closer. The way she keeps her hands knotted together in her lap, like she’s holding herself still just to keep from coming undone.
Every now and then, she exhales like she wants to speak, then stops herself. I let her.
I’m sure this is another argument brewing, and we can’t do that in front of Don on our wedding day.
So, we ride in silence.
Me pretending I don’t care.
Her pretending she isn’t hurt.
And between us lingers the ghost of a touch that still burns hotter than anything I’ve ever felt.
It doesn’t take long to reach home. The car slows as we turn into the drive. The wrought-iron gates part soundlessly, swallowing us back into the dark.
Don pulls up to the front steps. The second the car stops, Isla’s hand is already on the door handle.
I don’t move to stop her. We’ll talk properly when we’re alone.
She steps out, her gown catching the moonlight, her shoulders squared like she’s holding herself together by sheer will.
I bid Don good night and follow Isla into the house. The click of her heels echoes sharply across the marble when we reach the foyer.
“I’m going to bed,” she throws over her shoulder, not looking back. “It’s been a long day.”
That’s it. No good night. Just distance. As if we didn’t just get married.
My wife rushes ahead of me up the staircase, the faint scent of her perfume lingering behind like a ghost.
I stop at the bottom of the stairs and drag a hand through my hair, exhaling hard.
No way do I plan to just let her go to bed, but I’ll allow her to think I have for a few minutes.
What in the hell happened? I need a clue before I throw myself into battle.
Mentally, I scroll through the events of the day, trying to pinpoint what I missed. I think of the last time I saw her. It was just before we split off. I went to play poker, and she was with Louise.
She seemed fine then.
“Knox.” A voice breaks through my thoughts.
I turn to find Dorian standing in the doorway to the living room, a small black box in hand. His presence in my home at this hour isn’t unusual. We’ve always had a mi casa es su casa relationship.
But the fact that he’s here tonight means something’s wrong. Something that couldn’t wait.
“Hey, bro. You okay?” I ask.
“I’m good.” Dorian steps closer, the light catching the hard line of his jaw.
“What’s going on?”
“Something you’re not going to like,” he says quietly. “Where’s your wife?”
“Upstairs. What’s going on, Dorian?”
“The boyfriend showed up at the wedding.”
The words slam into me, hard enough to steal the air from my lungs. For a split second, everything inside me goes still—too still—the way it does before something explodes.
“What are you saying to me?” My body goes rigid, like it may snap.
“Chad was there.”
“When did he get there? Before the vows?” Did that motherfucker have the balls to try and stop the wedding?
Dorian shakes his head. “He arrived just before dinner. But I have a feeling he’d been lingering for a while.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Didn’t want you to kill him. The press would have a field day with that.” He grins with quiet menace. “So, I dealt with him.”
My eyes widen slightly. Dorian is a fraction more unhinged than me. But where I react and lose my shit, he takes his time and makes sure you suffer to the fullest extent. And even then, he won’t stop until his inner psycho has been tamed.
“What did you do?”
His grin blossoms into a full-blown smile. “I had a little chat with him.”
That means he roughed him up a bit. “Can he still walk?”