CHAPTER NINE
WELLS
T hat kiss was unexpected. Unexpected in the way she melted against my lips, opening her mouth to accept everything I offered, which was, admittedly, more than I’d planned on giving. But she gripped me as though I were feeding her an antidote to a poison and she needed to swallow every drop.
And her flavor.
She tasted like lemon Starbursts, which mingled with her always-enticing vanilla-raspberry aroma in the most delicious way.
A deadly combination, considering my candy addiction.
I have a feeling the woman standing before me—dazzling with her curls of fire adorning her slight shoulders—is my most dangerous assignment to date.
Her bare pinkish-gold skin sparkles above her gown—shimmery black-and-white, smoky in parts, reminiscent of a thundercloud.
My Little Storm.
She’s a vision, which I knew. Upon my first glimpse of her out here, so breathtakingly beautiful and facing this whole situation with such fierce bravery, I felt myself unraveling.
Beethoven’s “Für Elise” piped into the courtyard, amplifying the vanquishing swell in my chest. But until that kiss, I had confidence that I could fight this savage infatuation, which has infected me since the first day I laid eyes on her.
My cock is adamant that won’t be happening.
She may have kissed me as though I had an antidote, but every encounter with her feels like being rolled in poison. True to her preferred name.
Poison Ivy. An itch that never lets up.
Exhaling, I drag my thumb across her lower lip, the one that so desperately sucked on mine moments ago, the one she herself brushed before extending her invitation .
Her sapphire eyes search my face, questioning, maybe wondering if I felt it too—the earth faltering on its axis with our connection.
That thought rings so close to hope that I curse myself.
I don’t hope. I make things happen. And I’ve got a fucking job to do. But, goddammit, she makes it hard to breathe.
“So beautiful, Little Storm.”
Her chin lifts, drawn to my touch like she can’t resist it, and my stomach clenches for all the events leading to this one and all the ones that will guide us from here. So much she doesn’t understand. I’ve never had a moment I wanted to freeze, to hold with my very life.
Until this.
And yet I can’t.
“Thank you,” she whispers with the rise and fall of her chest, cleavage beseeching, imploring me to lick and nip and bite, marking and claiming what’s mine.
I’ll never be able to deny her tonight, but I don’t tell her that now. Instead, I take her by the hand and lead us into the restaurant and bar Axel set up for us.
Ty informed me about her tears yesterday.
She’d been so strong up to this point that it was bound to happen.
But I wanted this night to be somewhat special, for her not to feel so alone.
If we had dinner on the private terrace, like I had originally planned, with only my crew and the Noire family, Ivy may have felt like an outsider.
The light crowd here offers her the illusion that she isn’t locked away.
And Ryker assured me the patrons are all vetted members, so I’m allowing it for this one evening .
For her.
Rena sits beside Ivy, talking her ear off at dinner, which I’m grateful for.
It enables me to immerse myself in conversation with Axel, focusing on La Lune Noire business instead of mine.
Unfortunately, it’s more apparent by the minute that my thoughts are torn between my desire for my bride and my own work.
Deciding it’s best to take care of some business so I can focus clearly on us tonight, I shift toward Ivy.
If I’m going to give in to my cravings, I want to do it with a clear head.
My fingers rake into her silky hair while I tether our gazes. “A glass of champagne to celebrate, but then I need to tend to an important phone call.”
“Oh, tonight?” Her disappointment chimes, sending a pang of guilt through me.
This isn’t me. It can’t be. “Yes. Tonight. It can’t wait.”
She accepts my flat answer without another word, but I see our magical moment fade into the night, and already, I want it back.
After a glass of champagne, my head isn’t any clearer.
Pulling her into my side by her thin waist, I lower my lips to her ear.
“Time for me to go, Little Storm. Only one more glass of champagne, then switch to water.” I straighten to study her pretty face, seeing whether she’s going to fight me on this.
Her eyebrows pinch in confusion, so I explain, “Your invitation. I don’t want you drunk tonight. ”
Those gorgeous blues widen with eagerness, and I nearly haul her up to our suite at the sight.
“Only one more,” she confirms.
“Good girl, Ivy.” I kiss her forehead as her breath hitches with the praise. “I won’t be long. Have fun.”
I alert the guys that I’m on my way out. They understand the need to be vigilant with Ivy in my absence, so I exit outside to the private terrace off the courtyard—not in use because I had reserved it—and pull out the burner phone I brought with me, in case.
I plug in the number and wait for him to answer.
Seconds later, he does with a gravelly, clipped, “Speak. ”
“Change of plans,” I announce. “I’m married.”
He clears his throat, and I wait, allotting him the time to process all of the unspoken in my words. He grunts. “To the girl?”
“Yes.”
“How does that aid me ?” he hisses, getting right to the point of all our interactions. The benefit to him or his family business.
“It’s an added layer of insurance that she’s in my possession. She’s mine. We’ll still be the ones producing what no one else can.”
He dithers there with a quiet murmur. “You did this for her ?”
Fuck . I can already see which way this is going. Not so different than it did with Liam and Gage.
“It’s complicated. But, yes.” I don’t apologize. Ever. Which is why I don’t lie either. It’s a form of apology in essence.
“Love?” His tone is more benign than I would expect with that inquiry.
I don’t think I’m capable of love. Power hungry doesn’t leave much room for such frivolous emotion. But I’m indisputably a man obsessed. She gets under my skin, into my thoughts, heating me with a mere glance. That’s not what he asked though.
“No,” I answer.
“If she is to take her place, your marriage will not protect her any greater. It would be an act of war to touch her either way.” He pauses before adding, “And she won’t be absolved of testing.”
“All true. But it helps. I can be certain she won’t fall into anyone else’s hands.
And after fighting for her position, it’s in our best interest to ensure she succeeds in obtaining it.
She’ll also be doubly protected if she refuses it.
” I didn’t need to admit the last reason, but he’d have sensed any lack of transparency, which would have only backfired.
“You’re showing weakness,” he scorns. “Cabrinis don’t show weakness.”
He may have helped me fight for her role, but the marriage blindsided him. It’s a simple matter of changing his perspective. I need to convince him this union furthers his plans .
“I beg to differ, Grandfather . To be married to one of the most powerful women in the world, I’m showing my dominance. The Cabrini influence will be stretched to a second seat now.”
The truth of that hits a chord, singing to his autocratic spirit. His timbre softens in spite of the threat he delivers. “She’ll be loyalty tested now too.”
Gritted teeth and suppressing a snarl. “I’m aware.”
“Time frame to have her ready?”
As I note his change in direction, my confidence rises. “Two to three months.”
“Good enough,” he says curtly. “The seat is yours. I’ll be in touch.”
Hanging up the phone, I still, releasing a breath that’s been held for half a decade. It worked. It fucking worked. I scrub a hand over my face, needing the scratch of the faint stubble to help me quell the victorious holler bubbling inside me.
It doesn’t suffice. Since I’m alone, I pump my fist three times and whoop—a drawn-out huzzah, high-pitched and impassioned from years of toiling for this goal. The exultation stings the back of my eyes.
Christ, that felt good.
I smooth my hands over my suit, regaining my composure.
Striding back into the bar, I catch sight of the guys scattered among the Noire brothers and Ivy perched on a stool beside Rena at the bar. The crowd has thickened in the brief time I was gone, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll be whisking the Little Storm back to our suite shortly.
Clearheaded. And so goddamn hungry.
I jerk my chin at Ty, who grabs Liam, Gage, and a couple of drinks, meeting me at the far end of the bar near the back exit, where we can speak freely.
Not wasting any time getting to the point, I begin as soon as they’re before me. “Good news. One seat secured. ”
“Fuck,” Gage spits while both Liam and Ty grin like the Cheshire cat. This has been a long time coming.
“It’s, of course, contingent upon the actual delivery, but the marriage cinched it,” I explain.
Ty chuckles, handing me a glass of scotch. “That’s why you’re in charge.”
Liam rubs the scruff on his chin, no doubt itching to sneak outside for atriumphant smoke. “I’m not even going to fuck with you about your honeymoon night, Chief. You deserve to get your dick wet.”
“How long do we have?” Gage asks, ignoring any mention of my personal involvement with Ivy.
“Two to three months to prepare her. She’ll be loyalty tested due to the marriage, as expected, in addition to the rest.”
“No concerns there?” Gage asks. It’s one of the reasons she needs to crave the realness of this marriage, to believe in it. Since she’s known me for eight days at this point, it’s a valid question.
“None,” Ty and I respond in unison, but I grant him the space to expound. “She gives what’s given to her. She’ll be fine in that respect. It’s the acceptance of who she is that may be the issue.”