11. Willow
As my heart thundered in my chest, the dawn song of birds drifted through the air and the rising sun cast a rosy hue across Lisbon. The city streets started to hum with activity, and the hustle and bustle of early risers began waking the world up.
A marriage. To Royce.
It should have been a dream come true, yet something akin to disappointment settled heavy in the pit of my stomach when he agreed to my platonic demand. Warning bells rang in my ears, but my heart decidedly ignored them.
I’d do this for my baby.
Aside from my father, there was no man I trusted more than Royce. I was jobless, and unless I planned on moving in with my parents, I was homeless too because I canceled my lease in preparation for the wedding.
“Stop overthinking,” Royce instructed. He exited the car as I watched him come around and open my door, then effortlessly scoop me up into his arms. He was really taking this no-walking-on-his-way-to-teach-Stuart-a-lesson thing seriously. “We’ll be helping each other, and the best part is we already know we’re compatible,” he added, striding his way to the hotel entrance.
My heart leapt.
We got along great, but I wasn’t sure that I’d be able to keep myself in check if I was around him all the time. Royce was a gorgeous specimen, but add to that mix his kind and generous character and it was going to be impossible to resist him.
“But…” Can we have sex? “People will know it’s fake if we’re seeing other people.”
He stilled, his steps pausing mid-stride.
“What other people?”
“You… Well… We…” I was making a major ass out of myself. I should have really thought this through. I shifted in his arms, my arms tightening around his neck before I met his gaze. “Royce, you’re a known playboy; women fling themselves at you everywhere you go. There’s no way I can expect you to stay celibate.”
He resumed walking, a small smile flickering over his mouth.
“We’ll both be celibate in this marriage.” Ouch. With his stubble, dark wavy hair, and even darker eyes, he looked devastatingly handsome. And hard to resist. “Unless you’d prefer being tied up and…”
The insinuation wrapped up in his tone sent heat curling low in my stomach as I imagined what it’d feel like to have him for one night. Just one night.
Curiously enough, Royce and I had never ventured into discussing our sex lives. Though, thanks to his public persona, plenty of speculation had leaked regarding his kinky interests, fueled mostly by the female population.
“What do you mean?” I asked in a husky voice, a rush of heat coloring my cheeks.
“I mean like 50 Shades of Grey.” There was something in his voice—reverence, a soft drawl—that lit me up from the inside out. And damn if Royce as Christian Grey didn’t sound exciting. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Willow. I’m joking.”
I scoffed.
“Fine, celibacy it is.” I tried not to sound disappointed. “Should be easy enough,” I lied, surprised that lightning didn’t strike me right then and there.
Royce entered the hotel, walking through the lobby with the confidence of a billionaire that always got his way as he carried me bridal-style. Ironic, considering today was supposed to be my wedding day.
“How can I help you, sir,” said the concierge, eyeing me warily, likely taking stock of my bandaged face and wondering if we were about to cause a scene.
Royce ignored the man and kept walking, then stopped and spoke over his shoulder in a way that brooked no argument. “The Auclair-Harris wedding won’t be happening. The almost-bride has had a change of heart. She’s decided to elope with me.”
Royce’s delicious, masculine scent flooded my lungs and sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
“But not the priest,” he added.
“Sir?”
“Keep the priest here and I’ll make it worth your while.” Royce’s eyes returned to me and he continued toward the elevators. “I’ll notify your parents and friends.”
It didn’t surprise me that he knew of the plan for my family’s priest, the very same man who married my own parents, to marry me off. The Harris family wasn’t very religious, but my parents had insisted that he be present and bless the union.
I couldn’t help but comment. “Elope, huh?”
A smile danced in his eyes despite his grim expression. “I guess we’ll have a busy day before disappearing.”
He didn’t elaborate, and I fixed him with a stare that demanded answers. He stepped into the empty elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. “And why do you need my parents’ priest?”
His lip twitched. “I have to confess my sins.”
The elevator doors closed and the silent ascent to my hotel room began.
“Sins or kinks?” I teased, attempting to cut through the electricity that crackled between us.
He flicked me a look full of fire. “Maybe both?”
I smiled, then immediately winced and reached up to cup my jaw. It was enough to remind us of what brought us here, and the mood sombered. Priest and everything forgotten, I tightened my grip around the nape of his neck and released a tight breath, hoping this knot in my chest would loosen.
“Just don’t kill him, Royce,” I murmured. “Stuart isn’t worth it.”
Royce’s face shifted into an unreadable mask, but his body emanated something equivalent to arctic temperatures in the dead of winter.
Foreboding slithered down my spine, warning me that Royce’s cold fury was more dangerous than anything.
“Don’t worry, baby,” he said. “I won’t be killing anyone today.”
As the elevator dinged and the door slid open, I couldn’t shake the sense of impending danger.
A dust of luck had us running into a maid who opened the door to my hotel room—after Royce flashed her his irresistible smile and a stack of bills, of course.
“Don’t tell anyone you saw us.” His threat was delivered with charm and subtle tension threading his muscles.
“I won’t, sir. Not a word.”
He nodded, satisfied, and she scurried away. Once inside, we glanced around the room, which stood exactly the way it did yesterday. My wedding dress hung on the door, staring back at us mockingly. I imagined what Stuart’s room looked like, and wondered whether he’d called housekeeping to straighten up after he attacked me.
Royce set me gently on the edge of the bed, grabbed my duffle bag, then started efficiently packing all my items into it. It took him all of two minutes for the room to bear no evidence of my ever being here.
He stopped in front of the last item—my wedding dress. “Who picked it out?”
“It was my mother’s,” I murmured, rubbing my belly absentmindedly. The ache in my body throbbed, but it wasn’t unbearable now that I got the doctor’s assurance the baby was healthy and safe. “With minor adjustments to fit me.”
He nodded, pulled out his phone, then started typing furiously. Three consecutive chimes rang out, and just as I began to wonder who all he’d sent those messages to, he slid the delicate material off the hanger and unzipped it. “Okay, let’s put it on.”
My brows pulled together. “Why? I’m not getting married today.”
When he faced me, his smile was all lazy charm, and I could finally see the Royce countless women had experienced before me. Dangerous seduction. “You’re marrying me, or did you forget already?”
“Today? Is that what you meant before, with the priest?” I gaped in disbelief. My eyes flicked to the mirror above the chest of drawers. “Look at me, I’m a battered, bruised, rotten apple.”
He came to stand in front of me and lowered down to one knee, his hands wrapping around my waist with a softness I wouldn’t think he was capable of if I didn’t know him almost better than I knew myself.
“You look beautiful, and no amount of cuts or bruises could ever hide it.” The reverence evident in his voice caused emotions to pool in my chest. Damn hormones. I was getting drunk off his delicious scent, willingly falling into the comfort of his words. “We’ll get married, you’ll be an Ashford, and nobody will ever touch you again.”
“Okay,” I breathed, a sense of relief washing over me as his words provided the reassurance I didn’t know I needed.
“Can I help you get dressed?”
“You’re technically not supposed to see me in it, you know,” I remarked softly. “It’s bad luck.”
“We’ll make our own rules, baby.”
Laughter danced in his eyes as he pecked my cheek, then rose to his full height. My chest rose and fell as I watched his strong fingers undress me expertly, then help me slip into my mother’s dress. As he reached for the buttons, I swore his fingers shook, and I flicked him a curious look. Maybe he was having second thoughts.
“Royce,” I whispered, and his eyes met mine. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to regret this.”
With the last satin button in place, he took a step back and leaned against the wall. Every ounce of his attention was on me, setting a full-blown inferno inside me. When he looked at me like that, I could almost feel his caress on my sensitive skin.
He still wore his leather jacket, the contrast between us so evident. Yet somehow, we fit.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything else in my life,” was his answer, and a sigh of relief left me. Looked like I was getting married today after all.
I stood up slowly and made my way to the mirror, sucking in a sharp breath. The white silk hugged my curves, draping to the floor in graceful lines, and a tasteful V-neck gave room to the imagination. I turned and twisted my head around, giving my back—the only altered piece—a glance. The open back draped down almost to my tailbone, and the exposure gave the dress a sexy appeal.
“I…” Clearing my throat, I tried again. “It”s my first time trying it on.” What I didn’t say was that every time I’d gone to try it on in the last two weeks, my chest and throat would break out into hives. Yet another sign I ignored. Royce straightened, and when our eyes connected, I saw so much affection in his eyes that I felt my breath catch. “I should put some makeup on.”
“If you want,” he said. “Although you’re perfect just the way you are.” Gosh, how was a woman supposed to resist a man like that? Before I could come up with something to say in response, Royce’s gaze flicked to the adjoining door. “Is his room through there?”
I nodded hesitantly, and before I could even blink, he was stalking across the suite. “This won’t take long.”
Then he kicked the door so hard it flew off the hinges—which was saying a lot because I knew for a fact the doors in this hotel were ironclad and basically bulletproof. A high-pitched scream came from the room, and against my better judgment, my feet carried me to the door. I supposed I shouldn’t have been surprised to find Stuart being ridden like a fucking camel.
A woman wearing nothing but a white apron sat on top of a spread-eagle Stuart, bucking wildly and making exaggerated moaning sounds.
“Get lost,” Royce barked at the maid, not even sparing her a glance. His dark and furious gaze was narrowed on Stuart as he closed the distance to the bed and backhanded him so hard his head flew sideways. “Say a word to anyone and I’ll find you.”
The sheer terror on her face vouched that she wouldn’t, and I almost felt sorry for her. Royce could be scary when he wanted to be.
“What the fuck, Royce?”
“What did I tell you when you first started dating her?” he bellowed, this time punching directly in the nose. Stuart whimpered, blood dripping down his face. “What did I fucking say, Stuart?”
I stood frozen, noting in the corner of my mind that the maid had bolted out of the room.
“She’s not yours,” Stuart spat, finding his courage and clearly having a death wish. Royce pulled out a gun and pistol-whipped him before pushing it against his temple. Unfortunately, it didn’t knock Stuart out, and he continued blabbing. “You’re just pissed off because I knocked her up before you could stick your dick inside her.”
The barrel of Royce’s gun pressed deeper into the side of his head, his finger braced on the trigger. My blood drummed so loud in my ears that I couldn’t hear my own thoughts.
“Royce—” I finally found my voice. His gaze coasted to me while nausea churned in my stomach. “R-rememb—remember what you said.”
“Wait for me in your room.” His calm, cool voice pierced my heart and fear rolled down my spine.
“Please don’t kill him.” His jaw clenched. I couldn’t let Royce pay for my foolish choices. If he pulled that trigger, he’d end up in prison. The cameras would have picked us up in the elevator, and that was before we ran into the concierge or the maid who just ran for her life. I was surprised the police hadn’t been sent up yet. So, no. Not even Royce’s last name could save him. “He’s not worth it,” I said, urging him to remember our earlier conversation.
He nodded and put the gun away, and I sighed, nearly sick with relief.
“Willow, you don’t need to see this,” Royce said, keeping his gaze on Stuart and shaking his head. Stuart followed our exchange, his erection still sticking straight up to the ceiling. The sight would be comical under any other circumstance. “For the love of God, woman, wait for me in the other room.”
A shiver ran down my spine, but I resisted the urge to hide in the room and let Royce handle it all. If he killed Stuart, I’d be an accomplice, for better or for worse.
“I’m staying,” I breathed, my heart trying to flee from my chest. In all the years that I’d known Royce, I’d never seen him angry like this. “I can’t let you kill him.”
Royce’s muscled forearm flexed as he reined in his temper, but I knew better than to take it as a good sign. The sight of Stuart in this bed made him blind with fury.
“I’m not going to kill him, but I did warn him what would happen if he hurt you.” The playfulness I was used to seeing from him disappeared, leaving him shrouded in darkness. “Didn’t I, Stuart?”
I blinked. Royce had threatened him before?