Chapter Twelve
T he clock said three forty-five.
I wrung my fingers together, unfurled them, then dragged my sweaty palms along the pearl-white satin of my gown. My stomach churned with a mixture of anxiety, panic, and trepidation.
Tate was late. Very late.
Our appointment at city hall was an hour away, and he still wasn’t here.
I knew my boss like the back of my hand, and though he was an arsehole of massive proportions, he was incredibly punctual.
“We can clear up all this second-guessing if you pick up the phone and call him,” Cal pointed out gently, standing above me.
She dragged a soft bristle brush along my scalp before repeating the movement with a hair wax stick across my dark, straightened hair.
I’d had no time to book hair and makeup, so Cal watched a tutorial on how to give me an updo before coming here, because my hands were shaking too badly. She was doing a fine job at it too.
Despite resembling my fair mother quite a bit, I’d inherited my father’s hair. Growing up, I often wished my hair was thinner, straighter, more manageable. Now, it felt like a gift. A way of seeing my precious, terribly missed dad who passed away too young.
“I’m not calling him.” I crossed my arms and scowled at the mirror in front of me. “It’s in my interest that he doesn’t show up.”
“I doubt he got cold feet, girlie,” Dylan said behind us, breaking in a pair of white glitter pumps for me by walking across the room. “He seems like a man on a mission.”
The heels were sent by Tate yesterday, along with the dress, a bouquet, and some jewelry.
I was surprised the delivery guy had made it to the door. Even though I told Tate I would not tolerate any security, I had spotted Row and Rhyland patrolling the building hourly.
I’d be touched if I didn’t know he was mainly preoccupied with my uterus, which he needed for producing an heir.
“I mean, he has snipers on rooftops around your building.” Dylan withdrew the curtain an inch, peering through the window.
“He what ?” I stood up, advancing toward the window. Cal stumbled back at the sudden movement.
I leaned against the thick glass, my mouth falling open. Since the penthouse was considerably higher than other buildings, I could clearly see black-uniformed men in position on a few rooftops with their rifles directed at the reception of our place.
“Christ!”
I grabbed my phone and texted him. I wouldn’t give him the pleasure of asking when he was coming. Instead, I snapped a picture of the snipers and sent it to him.
Gia: I said no security.
His response came a few seconds later.
Tate: You said no bodyguards. This is the NYPD.
Gia: ???
Tate: Mayor owes me a favor.
I took a deep breath and bit my tongue, waiting for him to explain his delay. He didn’t, of course. How could I expect decency from a man who had poison running through his veins?
As soon as I plopped back into my seat, Cal resumed tugging, teasing, and brushing my hair. I closed my eyes, fingering my junonia shell bracelet.
I wasn’t sure if I was angrier at him for forcing me into this wedding or because he was dreadfully late for it.
“Care to explain why you have so much security?” Dylan cleared her throat.
“Yeah. Row and Rhy have been checking on your building every hour.” Cal furrowed her brow.
“Tate had a run-in with the Irish Mafia. He received a hot tip that I might be targeted.”
Dylan and Cal exchanged horrified looks.
“I’m sorry, what ?” Dylan paled. “That’s insane.”
“So is Tate,” I said.
“What did he do?” Cal shrieked.
I shook my head. “He wouldn’t tell me.”
Cal looked ready to throw up.
“It’s fine,” I tried to reassure her. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Tate has dealt with plenty of disgruntled people in his career.”
Cal dropped her hands to my shoulders, massaging them. “Chin up. We’re here. We’ll let no harm come to you.”
“Tate wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you either.” Dylan inserted a glass of champagne between my fingers. “That man can talk about how much he hates you all day, but he’d go to war for you.”
I didn’t disagree with her. He was obsessed with me. But it didn’t mean he loved or even cared for me.
“I haven’t slept in two days,” I hiccupped, taking a sip of my champagne.
“Why?” Dylan settled at my feet, circling her arms around my thighs and perching her chin on my knees. “I thought you came to terms with the marriage?”
We’d been having daily conversations about doomsday, a.k.a. my wedding day.
“I did.” Another hiccup bubbled out of me.
I gulped more champagne. Alcohol was probably not a good idea, but I needed something to take the edge off.
“But I can’t help but feel sorry for myself that Mum won’t be attending.
The clinic said she is not in any condition to go somewhere new.
I won’t have a single member of my family with me. ”
“You’ll have us .” Cal squeezed my shoulders, her gaze meeting mine in the mirror. “We’re your family now.”
“Yeah, we’re your ride or die, bitch.” Dylan winked.
I reached to hold Cal’s fingertips. “Thank you,” I mouthed.
“But it’s not just that. Ever since Tate transferred me to the HR department, I’ve been under the weather.
Even today, when I worked from home, I had to fire four people via Zoom.
It was dreadful. Some of them have families to feed.
One of them was a single mum.” I pressed my lips together.
“The single mum…I couldn’t do it. I hired her myself to help me out with Mum.
Running errands, doing her nails… It’s not even her profession, though. She’s a bloody IT technician.”
“You’re doing the best you can under the circumstances,” Cal assured me.
“And you’ll find a way to navigate through all this.” Dylan plucked my heels from her feet and screwed them onto mine. “You always do.”
A few minutes later, Cal left my room to go check on Serafina, her daughter.
Then, five minutes after, Dylan got a text from Rhyland to come to the lower floor of the penthouse.
Apparently, their daughter, Gravity, accidentally knocked over a two-million-dollar statue in the living room.
“Excuse me. I have to go make a scene.” Dylan kissed my forehead, shaking her head on her way out.
For the first time today, I was all alone.
I glanced at the time on my phone. Quarter past four. We weren’t going to make it to our appointment.
I didn’t even want to marry the blasted man, but the sheer disrespect of it had me reeling. I stared at myself in the mirror, all made up for a clinical, sham wedding.
I tore the expensive gown from my body, the satisfying sound of fine fabric ripping filling my ears.
I threw my closet open and chose the most outrageous pieces of clothing I owned. A pair of tiny Daisy Dukes I had purchased on a holiday in the Bahamas a few years ago and a tacky Disney World sweatshirt that matched my college friends from our graduation trip.
I polished off the rest of the champagne and cried myself to sleep.
“Wake up.”
I knew that voice. It starred in my fantasies and haunted me in my nightmares. Husky. Menacing. Wry as an old bone.
I kept my eyes shut for the sole purpose of provoking him.
“What are you wearing?” he growled, his voice dripping disdain.
I let my eyes flutter open. Tate sat on the edge of my bed, wearing a full-blown tux, his hair freshly cut. He was so handsome he made my heart liquify.
“What’s the time?” I asked groggily.
He pulled his phone out, scowling at it. “Nine thirty-two.”
“At night?”
His flat gaze told me the question was stupid and beneath him.
“Oh.” I sat up straight, immediately perking. “That means the wedding is canceled. Or at the very least delayed! We didn’t make it. I—”
“The wedding’s happening,” he countered. “Thanks to your prayers and well-wishes, my plane had a landing gear issue, and we were stranded in London for a few hours. But I managed to sweet-talk the city clerk into opening the hall for us. Get up. We’re late.”
“What?” I rubbed my fists over my eyes, ruining my eye makeup. “Tate, we can’t get married today. I’m not—”
“You have five minutes.”
“That’s not enough time for me to get ready.” I gestured to my outfit, ruined makeup, and hair, which I had not wrapped in a protective bonnet prior to falling asleep spontaneously.
“I see.” He stroked his chin.
I nodded, exhaling in relief. “We’ll have to resch—”
“Guess you’re marrying in it.” He stood up brusquely, buttoning his jacket with one hand. “I’ll wait in the living room. Row, Rhyland, and their respective headaches are still here. Witnesses,” he explained tersely.
“You can’t give me a sixty-second notice and expect me to be at your beck and call.”
“Can’t I?” He rubbed his knuckles over his sternum. “Funny, it seems to be exactly what I’m doing right now.”
Springing up to my feet, I did something I’d never done before. I raised my open palm and tried to slap him.
He caught my wrist in his big hand before it reached his cheek. Slowly, he brought my knuckles to his mouth, brushing his hot, soft lips over them, his eyes boring into my own. “My regal ice queen. Were you worried I wasn’t going to come?”
“You aren’t going to come,” I said, deadpan. “Unless you use your hand. This marriage won’t be consummated.”
“Oh, I’ll come.” He dragged his straight teeth over my knuckles ever so gently, making my skin tingle and sticky warm honey pool between my legs. “So will you. Multiple times each encounter, in fact. Making heirs with you will be a pleasure.”
Every functioning brain cell in my head screamed at me to pull away, but my traitorous body remained still, letting him pepper soft, feathery kisses on the back of my hand. Kisses that felt like velvety butterfly wings flapping over my flesh, all while maintaining eye contact.
“I’d have made it to this wedding today if I had to swim my way from England.”
“But…why?”
“Because you’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted and couldn’t buy,” he admitted earnestly. “And because I’m utterly consumed by the idea of destroying your life, sweetheart.”
He dropped my hand, stepping away from me and waltzing to the door.
“Twenty-two seconds, Gia.”
What?
Bollocks . He tricked me. I didn’t think our conversation ate into my preparation time.
He slinked away like the night, the echo of his kisses still dancing over my skin.