Chapter 8
Eight
James
I ’m loving every second of watching Emilia walking down the aisle to me. When her eyes locked with mine, I saw a hint of surprise before the hatred shuttered over her eyes again. Sure, she smiled and looked the part, but I could tell her rage was simmering just below the surface. I smirked knowing that information. Hatred I can work with, it’s passionate enough that it can be molded into love, and I have my eyes set on doing just that.
Every step closer she takes to me, my heart gallops ten beats faster. She is breathtaking. The way her dress hugs her body and the slit up the thigh… I could die a happy man right this second and not even be mad about it.
Finally reaching us, Lorenzo gives me her hands, clasps me on the shoulder, and tells me, “Be good to her, Brother,” before going and finding his spot in the first row of seats.
Stepping up to the priest and still holding Emilia’s hands, I peer into her eyes and see the anger lit up in their depths like a fire in a forest. She is captivating in her fury. She doesn’t hold my stare for long as she breaks contact by glancing at the priest as he gives his graces. I can’t help the chuckle that slips out, but I am quickly admonished by the sharp look she gives me.
The ceremony is quick and before we know it, we are giving our vows. I give mine first and I can tell she is surprised by my words by the way her eyebrows raise.
“Emilia, my love, I promise to protect you from all those against you. I promise to hold you close when you want to be alone, and I promise to cherish all the scowls and smiles equally. For you are the other half of my soul, and now I am whole again. In this life and the next, I will always find you, protect you, care for you, cherish you, and love you.”
Looking back and forth between her eyes, I see a hint of softening before the proverbial door is slammed shut, and a wall of icy coldness takes its place. Emilia reads her vows next, and I am just as surprised.
“From the moment our paths crossed, sparks have flown. Your tenacity and devotion to those around you never ceases to amaze me. I promise to keep the spark going, no matter what lies ahead. Although my Abuelita may be turning in her grave about me marrying a gringo , I can’t resist your charm and good looks. I promise to love you in this life and the next.” (Grandma.)
I can tell that every bit of her vows are a stab at me, and I might as well replace love with hate. But all I can do in this moment is smile. I don’t even care that the vows are a sham or filled with hate. They sounded beautiful coming from her lips, and I would happily listen to her repeat them a million times over.
Something is seriously wrong with me. The more she fights me, the more I fall for her. The more I want that sassy little mouth of hers wrapped around my cock to choke her words. We have a ways to go for that, but one day it’ll come, and when it does, she’ll be begging for my cock.
Tuning back to the priest, we repeat our lines, and before we know it, he’s telling me to kiss the bride. I gather Emilia’s face in my hands and look deep into her brown eyes. A brown that is somehow the most beautiful set of eyes I’ve ever seen. I see a hint of softening in her eyes, and I take that opportunity to kiss her. Her lips are like satin pillows, soft and yielding under my own. Angling my head a little bit, I take the kiss deeper, my tongue licking along her lips, begging for entrance. She resists me at first, but her whole person deflates, like she’s accepting her fate, and she opens up to me.
* * *
After the ceremony and signing the official documents, she grinned and beared it through photos, courtesy of Brooke. I could tell Emilia was less than enthused, but then again, I know her tells. To everyone else, she seemed an adoring bride.
I check my watch and realize we are late to the party, so I call my driver to pick us up and bring us to the venue.
Opening the door for Emilia, I let her slide in first before joining her. Then, I immediately put up the divider between my driver and us, turning to Emilia.
Before I can get a single word out, she says, “What the hell was that, James?!”
“I don’t know what you mean, Em.”
“You know exactly what… the kiss.”
“We are supposed to kiss to become husband and wife.”
“It was more than that, James, and you know it.”
“Was it now? Are you saying you enjoyed it, love? Hmm?”
“Not in the least bit, cabrón .”
“Language, Mrs. Stonewell.”
At this point, if looks could kill, I’d be dead ten times over. I tentatively put a hand on her knee, fully turning and giving her my whole attention. “Mrs. Stonewell, I will kiss you many times tonight, courtesy of the cocktail party, so I suggest you get used to it now. You know your family is going to ring the bells hoping for a kiss between the newly weds.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it,” she says while pushing my hand off her. Emilia frazzled is a look I could get used to.
“No, but you need to pretend to. Remember, we don’t know if any of the Romanis are watching.”
“Fine, James. I will go along with it in public, but I sure as hell will make it hard on you in private.”
“I look forward to it, Mrs. Stonewell.”
The rest of the drive is spent in uncomfortable silence. She sits staring out her window, and I would give a penny for her thoughts. I know I saw her eyes softening during the ceremony, that much I know wasn’t an act.
It’s promising for what I have planned.