Chapter 26
Nathan
"I suppose I should be grateful you invited me to the wedding," Arthur growls. I lead him to a seat in the front row. It’s a good thing the relationship between the wives and girlfriends is strong enough that my fiancée’s wish to be married on a beach found its way back to me, the same way I found out about her trip to that hotel room.
She almost went to bed with another man, and all because I felt guilty about fucking her.
A mistake I’m not going to commit again.
Not after how I almost took her in the bakery yesterday.
I managed to stop myself, but only because her queries about my BDSM proclivities took me by surprise.
She's well-read enough to have recognized what I want.
Whether she can withstand the rigors of the lifestyle is something I'm looking forward to finding out.
At some point, when I was on my knees with my face pushed into her sweet pussy, when I licked at her slit and found myself craving to be inside of her hot, throbbing, channel, when I wanted to ravage her every hole, I realized I was fighting a losing battle.
From the moment I saw her all grown up on her eighteenth birthday, I fell for her. Every step in my life since has brought me closer to her. I might have tried to run away from her, but really, I was always finding my way back to her.
And Ben asked me to look after her, after all. And this is me, keeping my promise to him. I'm ensuring she'll land on her feet and be looked after for the rest of her life. He’d want that.
As for my marrying her and bedding her… I don't think it’s something he'll accept that easily, but hopefully, he’ll come around.
Hopefully, he’ll find it in him to forgive me for taking advantage of his sister.
I'm using her situation against her. Of course, she's helping me, too… We're helping each other. I cross my fingers. I can only pray that Ben will see it that way. I’m sorry, Ben, you couldn’t be here, but I hope when we finally meet again, you’ll find it in your heart to understand why I did what I did.
"You okay, grandson?"
I tug at the collar of my shirt. "Of course I am.
" I'm only getting married. It’s a walk in the park, compared to tracking down enemies of the country via drones, and deciding to take the hit, only to find a group of children walking into the frame and having to make a split-second decision whether to go ahead with the mission or not.
It doesn’t explain why I’ve been sweating like a whore in church all morning, considering we're not even in a church.
A gust of wind raises the hair from my forehead, and I turn my face toward it.
I managed to secure the only natural beach in this area, which happens to be a few miles from London.
It's not normally available to be rented, but thanks to my contacts, I managed.
As I keep discovering, it pays to be CEO of the Davenport Group sometimes.
There was never a question of whether to make it happen, considering my fiancée secretly wanted a beach wedding.
"You’re nervous," Arthur says with something like satisfaction.
You would be, too, if you knew what I have in store for you and your 'legitimate' grandsons.
When I don’t reply, Arthur tips up his chin in my direction. "It’s a good sign."
I grunt.
"I’d have been worried if you weren’t."
What-fucking-ever. I resist the urge to scratch my chin, knowing that’s my tell. I am not nervous. I am not.
Arthur tugs at my sleeve, and when I look down, he beams at me. "I’m glad you decided to invite your family to the ceremony. I’m guessing it’s what your fiancée wanted, and a happy wife is a happy life. You couldn’t have found a better way to start your marriage."
"That’s not the reason I opted for this ceremony," I say through gritted teeth.
"Of course it was." He waves a hand in the air. The sound of bottles being clanked as the caterers set the buckets of Champagne down on the long table at the side of the massive tent I asked to be erected reaches us.
Next to him, Tiny, who’s been sprawled on the ground, sits up and cocks his head. "Now, you need to behave, boy. The Champagne is not good for you." Arthur wiggles a finger under Tiny’s nose.
The Great Dane makes a rumbling sound at the back of his throat.
"This mutt not only understands me, but he also answers back." Arthur pats his head. "Remember our discussion. The only reason I brought you along is because you sulked when I said I wouldn’t. And you promised you’d stay away from the bubbles." Tiny looks up at Arthur and blinks. There’s a very innocent look in the Great Dane’s eyes. One I do not trust.
"What are the odds he’s going to be downing the Champagne before the night is out?" Sinclair says from next to me.
It’s true. Tiny has a hankering for Champagne.
Not wine. Not even sparkling wine. It has to be Champagne.
And the more expensive, the better. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it.
I watch the Great Dane yawn, then slide his big head between his paws.
His ears flop but his eyes… They’re trained on the catering staff pouring the bubbles into the vintage, sixties-style Champagne glasses I instructed the wedding planner to arrange for—because I found out my wife-to-be loves the look of them.
"Ready to tie the noose… Sorry, I mean knot, ol’ chap?" Knox, who walked up behind Sinclair, slaps me on the back.
"Fuck off, ol’ chap," I say in a casual tone.
Knox laughs. "Considering you decided not to have any groomsmen at your wedding, I don’t know if I should be insulted or grateful."
I turn to find he’s dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, his only concession is a jacket, though this one has seen better days. "I’m not insulted you decided not to wear a black tie."
"I fucking hate black suits and ties, and anything that needs me to loop a piece of cloth around my neck," he says with vehemence.
"Clothes don’t make the man," I shrug.
He seems taken aback, then nods slowly. "Maybe I’ll find a reason to not abhor you, yet."
"Not holding my breath on that."
He cracks a half-smile at that. And I thought I held the patent on being the scary, unapproachable mofo. But Knox, with his scarred face, and his I-don't-give-a-fuck appearance, has me beat.
"Now, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?" Arthur looks between us.
"The fuck you mean?" I scowl.
"The two of you are on your way to becoming friends." He nods.
"I wouldn’t say that." Knox coughs.
"Nonsense, I can see the beginnings of a beautiful relationship between the two of you."
Sinclair laughs. "I’d like to be a fly on the wall when that happens."
Knox gives me a can-you-believe-this-bullshit look.
For once, I agree with him.
"I think I’d better go in search of the hard liquor, the kind I can actually get drunk on.
" He turns and stalks off in the opposite direction of the Champagne, where I’ve arranged for a bar to be set up with the kind of alcohol my half-brothers seem to favor.
And only because I’m not petty like that.
They're my guests. The least I can do is cater to their tastes. I wish I could get drunk, too… But sadly, I’ll have to contend with water to see me through.
"How’re you holding up?" Sinclair surveys my features.
"I’m good," I say with a confidence I don’t feel. I wish I could fast-forward to the end of the ceremony. This thing is supposed to be fake, but it feels too bloody real. Like I’ve reached a turning point in my life and now, there's no looking back.
"It’s okay to be nervous," he begins, but I cut him off.
"Why does everyone keep telling me that? I’m not bloody nervous. Also, what happened to the damn breeze?" I pull out my handkerchief and mop my brow.
He exchanges a look with Arthur, something seems to pass between them, then Sinclair nods. "Right, I’ll see you on the other side."
He walks over to join Summer, who’s chatting with a group of women.
As he joins the group, he says something witty, and they all laugh.
They must be Starling’s friends. I told the wedding planner to ensure she invited all of them.
It’s what she wanted, after all, and I want to make sure I give her the wedding of her dreams.
The muted hum of voices fills the air. My half-brothers seem to be everywhere.
Connor, who’s taken on the role of bartender, pours Knox a drink.
Ryot is standing at a distance, his hand shoved in his pocket, a glower on his face.
Tyler is talking to a redhead, and Edward has his arm around his new wife Mira.
The two of them are engaged in conversation with Dr. Weston Kincaid, and a woman who I assume is his wife.
The roar of a bike cuts through the muted hum of voices.
“As I was saying, there’s nothing like family to have in your corner when things get tough, and—" Arthur looks past me in the direction of the noise, and his gaze widens. “Who’s that?” Arthur’s voice is filled with awe and something like…
Admiration? It’s enough to cause me to turn to where a figure parks a bike and disembarks.
She takes off her helmet and runs her fingers through her shoulder-length hair.
The sunlight glints off the silver strands threaded through the brown and blue-colored ones.
She’s wearing a dress which comes to mid-thigh, combined with tights and motorcycle boots that come to over her knee.
She clips her helmet on the side of the Harley, then proceeds to walk toward us.
“Granny Imelda, you made it!” The redheaded woman walks past us and embraces the older, Harley-riding woman.
“As I was saying—" Arthur seems to lose his train of thought before swallowing in an audible gulp. “Uh, do you think you can introduce me to her?”