Chapter 13
When Amelia’s brother storms out with a smug look, I tense up automatically. I can’t stand this guy, but what I hate even more is how he treats Amelia. It’s been rubbing me the wrong way since the very beginning, and I decide to put him under a bit more scrutiny.
But first, I have to survive my own wedding.
Sarah is sitting in the third row, her gaze practically piercing me.
Annoyed, I turn away and look at my father in the front row, where Mum and Lizzy are also taking their seats.
My heart pounds hard in my chest because I’m nervous.
But when I hear the shouts echoing from outside into the church, a merciless rage rises inside me.
“Slut.”
“I hate you.”
“You don’t deserve Nicolas.”
The insults are scattered but still cut through the crowd, and I know my Goldilocks hears every one of them. I know they all hit their mark.
Impatiently, I stare at the entrance, holding myself back from rushing forward to grab her, to protect her from these assholes until she finally appears on her brother’s arm.
I can’t breathe, and my mind goes blank. The world outside fades away—there is only Amelia. All I can do is stare at her. I keep staring and staring. My throat is dry and swallowing feels impossible. My pulse races faster than I ever expected. I can’t believe it, but this woman is truly mine.
“Holy shit,” Cedric mouths almost without sound, and fuck, he’s right. I exhale the breath I’d been holding because damn, she’s breathtaking. That dress, her delicate shoulders, she… just wow.
Mine.
Amelia belongs to me. But when I see how pale she is, how stiff she walks beside her brother, the frantic look in her eyes, I tense up again.
Look at me, Goldilocks, come on, look at me, I silently urge her and as if she’s heard me, her blue eyes land on mine.
The noise around me fades as I focus solely on my wife—yes, my wife—who seems to cling to my gaze. My whole body tingles, and admiration washes over me.
Mine.
Amelia straightens, and I see the relief on her beautiful face as she finally reaches me.
I take the last steps toward her, and her brother deliberately stops in front of me, throwing me an arrogant look that I’m more than happy to return.
Raising an eyebrow, I meet his gaze, and he reads the clear warning in my eyes.
“Don’t fuck with me, asshole, or we’ll have a problem,” it says plainly. He swallows hard and releases Amelia. I hold out my hand to her, almost sighing with relief when she lays hers in mine—delicate, hesitant, and damn cold. She looks at me with wide eyes.
Mine.
She is so beautiful. And so completely mine.
I ignore that arrogant jerk of a brother and pull her toward me with a sharp tug, making her gasp in surprise. Then she smiles, shy and reserved, but she smiles. And it’s only for me.
“Hey,” I whisper and gently nudge her nose with mine. Fuck protocol, fuck my father, fuck the guests. Amelia is the only one that matters. I let everyone know.
Her cheeks regain that pretty rosy color and her smile widens at my gesture.
“Hey,” she murmurs back and I can’t resist kissing the corner of her mouth briefly. A discreet throat-clearing pulls us back to reality, and I glance toward the altar, where Father Benedict is watching us with an amused smile.
At least someone’s taking this lightly. If I looked at my father now he’d probably be fixing me with a death glare for misbehaving.
“May we proceed?” Benedict asks, amused, and I look at Amelia, who glances up at him, embarrassed.
“Ready, Goldilocks?” I ask and she nods silently.
Good.
We turn toward the altar as the priest begins. Millions of people around the world are watching this centuries-old ceremony live, but honestly, I couldn’t care less. All this pomp irritates me. I’d much rather look at my wife and take in how beautiful she is.
Why is this taking so long?
The urge to show everyone that she belongs to me now is almost overwhelming.
When I finally hear him say, “I now pronounce you husband and wife before God and this church,” I manage to pull myself together just enough to cup her face in my hands instead of pressing my lips to hers, and I look deeply into her sparkling eyes.
Married. We are officially husband and wife.
Unbelievably gently, I kiss her forehead.
A strange mix of pride and happiness swells in my chest. I wink at her, and she gives me that smile I would still kill for. Then, slowly, I turn around.
As the organ begins to play, everyone rises, and we walk slowly, painfully slowly, because the flower children’s little legs can’t move any faster, down the aisle and out of the church.
Where that fucking mob waits.
As we step outside, all hell breaks loose, but I don’t wait for the first insults to hit.
Kissing like this in and in front of the church is usually frowned upon, but screw it. I pull my stunned wife close, and before she can protest, my lips are on hers.
Fuck.
Tasting her after last night is both heaven and hell, because there’s nothing I want more than to strip her dress off and bury myself in her, fucking her until she can’t walk and finally understands deep down that she belongs to me now.
The kiss is chaste, despite these thoughts, but effective. Both for the crowd and for my wife.
She looks at me completely dazed and confused, and I can’t help but grin widely. Then I turn to the crowd, to the flashing cameras and the mob, and raise our entwined hands high. I kiss Amelia’s fingers and pull her toward the limousine that will take us through Harlington.
I don’t pay attention to my parents or anyone else. I focus only on Amelia, who looks visibly relieved as the car door closes behind her and we are finally alone.
We drive off and put on a show for Harlington’s population, even though I clearly see the signs in the crowd insulting Amelia. My little wife smiles bravely and waves, though the other hand resting in her lap trembles slightly.
Damn it.
I want to kill them all for being so stupid and gullible. I want to grab my wife and take her far away, to protect her from all this crap.
“Goldilocks, you know they’re just talking bullshit. None of it’s true.” She flinches briefly when she hears my voice and glances at me. She smiles faintly, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Yes, yes, I know. But that doesn’t make it any less painful. Richardson wants to silence me. He wants me to look like a liar and a schemer, so I won’t be dangerous to him.” She clenches her hand into a fist, and I take it, pressing it to my lips.
“We’ll prove he’s connected to the accident and is deliberately ruining your reputation.
You’re my wife now, not just behind closed doors or for show, Lia.
We just got married in front of the whole world.
That means you’re the future queen of this country, and I protect what belongs to me, even if we don’t like each other.
” I wink at her briefly, and now she really laughs.
That’s exactly what I want to see. That laugh is addictive as hell.
“Unfortunately, that won’t convince anyone here.
They didn’t respect the engagement when it was public, so they won’t now.
But it doesn’t really matter, does it? We’re just pawns in a game our parents set up.
Now we have to figure out how to play it.
” She shrugs helplessly, and I don’t like how pragmatic she sounds about everything.
“Just because we didn’t want any of this doesn’t mean we can’t make it bearable for ourselves.” I wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her closer, frustrated by how distant she’s being. We’re married!
“No, no, it doesn’t mean that. But it won’t be easy. There’s so much to figure out, and so far our relationship, whatever you want to call it, hasn’t exactly been under a lucky star,” she adds, and I narrow my eyes.
What does she mean by “whatever you want to call it”?
I don’t like her saying that—no, it actually pisses me off. What the hell does she think this is supposed to be?
“What did it feel like to you last night, when I was deep inside you, hmm?” I whisper darkly in her ear. She shivers slightly but turns her head to look at me.
“It felt so good that I want it again, Nicolas,” she breathes, closing her eyes briefly as I stroke her cheek. “But that’s the problem. It was just sex, and we don’t even like each other,” she explains, and I laugh softly.
“Oh, last night I liked you a lot, Goldilocks. You can believe that.” I kiss her gently but immediately pull back.
“Let’s take it one step at a time, okay? Get to know each other, and then we’ll see what happens. Deal?” I study her intently. She’s already nodding and then gives me that smile, the one I’d kill for anytime.
“Deal.”
By now, it’s deep into the night, and I’m sitting in our ballroom, where we headed after the banquet. The walls are lined with dozens of candle holders and mirrors, which make the space look even larger than it already is.
Only a small circle of guests remains; most of the older crowd has already retired, my parents among them.
The chandeliers have been dimmed, colorful lights now sweep across the room, and the DJ has switched to livelier tracks for dancing. Amelia is giggling with Lizzy, and it’s obvious that neither of them is still sober.
“She looks relaxed.” Damien sits down next to me, and I shoot him a quick glance from the side.
“Yes, she does. Probably because it's the first time she actually is,” I reply, continuing to watch my wife. I could watch her for hours, and I have to admit, she’s pretty entertaining when she’s drunk. So completely uninhibited.
“I’m sorry, Nic. I… we never meant to hurt you. Never. But I was so afraid it would ruin our friendship, and I was a coward. I mean, knowing someone is gay is one thing, but actually seeing it with your best friend and your own brother, that’s just different.”
A sharp pain hits my chest. How scared must Damien have been, if he thought I’d judge him or see him in a different light because of this?