Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
W hen I reached the terrace, bouquet in hand, I froze. Even though it was a small wedding, it was still unnerving to have all eyes on me when the harpist started playing the wedding march. It was just Jo, Pierce, the harpist, an officiant, a photographer, and Graham. But it still felt…intense.
I took a deep breath and tried to calm my racing heart. I was going to do this. I was going to marry my billionaire ex-boss. And I was going to pretend to be in love with him. No big deal.
As I walked beneath large potted trees with white lights strung between them, I felt as if I’d been transported to the French countryside. It was magical and intimate, striking the perfect balance of relaxed elegance.
Finally, my eyes landed on Graham. He stood beneath an arch of sunflowers and roses. And even though I’d seen him minutes ago, I’d been so distracted by our conversation that I hadn’t really gotten the chance to take him in. I did so now, grateful that it was expected that the bride would drink in her groom. And what a sight he was.
Graham wore a gorgeous bespoke three-piece black suit that brought out the green in his eyes. It showcased his shoulders, narrow waist, and powerful thighs. He looked… I swallowed hard. He looked like my husband.
Like my husband?
He gave me a subtle nod, and I told myself to move. To act natural.
The fact that he needed a wife to not only improve his reputation but secure more shares somehow made me feel better about the whole thing. Like I was actually contributing something of value to the arrangement and not just take-take-taking like my family.
And while I could’ve just taken his revised offer of the money for the restoration, I couldn’t accept it in good conscience. Not when I knew he felt just as strongly about saving his family’s company as I did the chateau. Not once I realized just how much was at stake.
Freaking Moretti.
He was an ass who gave me the creeps. Thankfully, I’d rarely interacted with him when I’d worked at the Huxley Grand—mostly at industry events. But the way his eyes had lingered on me had always made me uncomfortable. He was vicious and conniving, and if I could help Graham prevent a takeover, I was in.
I only wished Graham had told me sooner. But the fact that he’d been willing to call off the wedding showed me how honorable he was. How committed he was to doing the right thing, even at great cost to himself.
Graham and I both had powerful reasons for wanting this marriage. And while it might not be conventional, I had faith in us. In what we could accomplish together.
That thought propelled me to take the first step toward him. Then another. It just all seemed so surreal. A dream mixed with some weird alternate reality.
I tried to tell myself that the only reason he felt like my husband was because we were going through this charade of a wedding. It was my emotions from the day and the fact that I was dressed as a bride. But a deeper, knowing sense of myself recognized him as the man I was supposed to spend my life with.
Graham watched me as I proceeded up the aisle, and I ignored everyone else but him. For a moment, we were locked in time.
It didn’t matter that I tried to ignore that feeling. That knowing . Tried to push it away. That niggling sense of rightness just kept at it. Kept telling me that he was it for me. He was my person.
Oh shit. I shoved that thought into a box, pushed it to the deep recesses of my mind.
“You look…” He shook his head, stepping closer. “ Tu es absolument magnifique. ”
Magnificent. Stunning. Those were the words he’d used to describe me.
I smiled and dipped my head to smell my bouquet, pleased by the compliment, even if it was all part of the act. “ Merci.”
Oh god. This was it. We were really going to do this.
I handed off my bouquet to Jo, and I was so grateful she was here. Graham took my hands in his, and I tried to focus on the feel of his skin against mine. Tried to calm my breath and school my smile into something natural.
The officiant spoke about love and commitment, but I barely heard him over the thunder of my heartbeat in my ears. Graham gave my hands a squeeze, centering me. Bringing me back to the present. Reminding me that we were in this together. We were partners.
“And now for the vows. Who has the rings?” the officiant asked.
Right. The ring. I hadn’t even considered the fact that I’d be wearing a wedding ring. I hadn’t even worn an engagement ring since it had all happened so fast and we were trying to keep it a secret.
Pierce stepped forward and removed a box from his jacket pocket.
“Graham,” the officiant said.
We’d agreed to write our own vows and to keep them short and sweet. Neither of us wanted to promise a lifetime of love, when we both knew that wasn’t what this was.
Graham took the ring from Pierce, and it was the first time I’d seen it. As he slid the ring on my finger, I couldn’t help but gasp. It was a gorgeous diamond set on a thin gold band. It was simple and elegant, and exactly what I would’ve picked for myself.
I tried not to gawk at the ring, but it was stunning. It had to be vintage. I resisted the urge to screw my eyes shut. I sincerely hoped it wasn’t a family heirloom.
Graham gave my hand a squeeze. “I promise to be your partner, your friend, and your husband. You are my family. I will honor our vows,” he said, giving me a meaningful look. “And I will protect you with all that I am as we honor the past, cherish the present, and preserve the future.”
I smiled. It was honest and heartfelt. And the words fit our situation perfectly.
Pierce stepped forward and offered me a ring. I took it from him and slid the gold band on to Graham’s finger. Damn. I hadn’t expected the sight of him wearing a wedding band to be so hot. Why was that so hot?
“Liliana, now it’s your turn,” the officiant said.
I took a deep breath. “I promise to stand by your side through the trials of life. You are my partner and my equal. I will be loyal and faithful, grateful for the past and excited about the future.”
There. Graham gave me a subtle nod of approval.
I met his eyes, and the enormity of what I’d just committed to started to sink in. I was his wife. He was my husband. We were married.
And yet, I didn’t feel as terrified by the thought as I’d expected to. Because this wasn’t a real marriage after all.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss,” the officiant said.
Wait. What?
I tried not to let my panic show. Our first kiss was going to be in front of an audience? Why had I not considered this earlier?
Graham placed his hand on my lower back, pulling me into him. Everything about him was so intense, so consuming, that I couldn’t look away.
He cupped my cheek, sliding his hand along my jaw. His eyes darted to my lips, and suddenly, everything felt too real. Like it wasn’t all for show.
He leaned closer, and my mind short-circuited. It was like that night in Ixtapa all over again, but it felt as if we were on the precipice of something more. Something even bigger.
Just do it. Just kiss me.
The waiting was torture. It could’ve been an eternity that passed, but it was probably only seconds. Finally, my eyes fluttered closed as he slanted his mouth over mine. A sense of peace and rightness settled over me. Confirming my decision.
His tongue briefly delved between my lips, tentative. Exploring. And my body was on fire.
He gave my hip a squeeze, and I wanted him to do so much more than that. But the sound of applause put an end to the moment. He pulled away, and all I could do was stare back at him with a dazed expression.
Whoa.
“Lil.” Lil. There it was—that nickname again. Full of ease and familiarity.
Graham held out his arm, and I slid my hand into the crook. He placed his hand over mine, and even that featherlight touch set me on fire.
“I have the pleasure of introducing Mr. and Mrs. Mackenzie,” the officiant said.
Graham guided me down the aisle. “No going back now,” he murmured, his words and closeness sending a shiver down my spine.
I wouldn’t have wanted to even if I could.
“Newlyweds,” called a woman in all black. She had a camera around her neck and had been taking photos the entire time. “Can I get you back out onto the terrace for photos?”
Graham placed his hand on the small of my back. “Absolutely.”
Pierce and Jo remained inside, sipping on cocktails and canapés prepared by the private chef Graham had hired for the event. I wondered what they were talking about. I wondered if Pierce thought this whole plan was as crazy as it seemed.
I’d spoken with him some in the past, but our interactions had always been fairly limited. If he needed a meeting with Graham, I’d scheduled it. But more often than not, he contacted Graham directly.
“Right over here,” the photographer said. “That’s it.” She positioned us just so before snapping a few shots.
“Bride, hand on groom’s chest.”
I lifted my hand, placing it over Graham’s chest as she’d directed.
“Great. Now, relax and look into each other’s eyes.”
Relax. Right. It was kind of difficult to relax when Graham was touching me. My body felt like a live wire.
I peered up at Graham, studying the hint of a few freckles on the bridge of his nose. My body was still buzzing from our kiss. Did he feel it too?
He lifted my left hand, bringing the back of it to his mouth for a kiss. “You are a beautiful bride,” he said in French.
“Thank you.” I continued the conversation in French. “You look—” I swallowed hard. “Really nice.”
“Jay always does a good job.” He leaned his forehead against mine, and the photographer continued snapping away.
“That he does. Thank you for letting Jo get a dress too. And giving her the VIP treatment at the Huxley Grand.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“It is to me,” I said softly.
He pressed a kiss to my forehead, lingering. In that heartbeat, it felt…real. His touch. His words. Us.
“I’m surprised,” I said in French.
“By what?” he asked, continuing the conversation in French.
“I don’t know. I guess I expected something more formal for our wedding.”
“Are you disappointed?” he asked.
“Are you kidding? This is beautiful. It’s everything I would’ve wanted for my wedding.” It was like he’d taken my dream wedding Pinterest board and brought it to life.
Future me was fucked because I knew my future potential “real” wedding would have a hard time surpassing this one. The idea made me sad.
“Then what’s wrong?” he asked, a crease forming between his brows.
“Nothing.” I smiled brightly. “You’re making all my dreams come true.” It was true, if a bit cheesy, but weddings had the tendency to make me emotional.
“And you mine.” His eyes lingered on mine a moment longer before he asked the photographer, “Did you get everything you needed?” putting an end to whatever that was.
“Yep,” the photographer said, attention on the screen on the back of her camera. “I got some great shots.”
“Excellent. Thank you.” Graham turned to me. “Shall we?” He gestured inside, and I let him lead me through to the living area where Jo and Pierce were drinking and talking.
By the time we bid our friends goodbye, the candles were burning low. There’d been champagne and a decadent meal, a small wedding cake. I’d even caught Graham smiling a few times, though I figured it was mostly out of relief. We were married. He could claim the shares he needed.
Jo was last to leave, and when I walked her to the door, she gave me a big hug.
“Thanks for being here and supporting me. It means a lot,” I said.
“Of course. I’ll always be here for you. I trust that you’re making the best decision for you, even if I don’t fully understand it.”
I tugged at the corner of my eye, trying not to cry. My family would never, ever say something like that. So full of understanding and acceptance. I hadn’t talked to them since before I’d left for Ixtapa, and I didn’t intend to any time soon. At least, not unless they apologized for their behavior.
It had taken me longer than I’d cared to admit that my relationship with my family was toxic. But I was done. I was done being belittled and manipulated. And it made me appreciate Jo even more. It meant the world to me that my friend believed in me, no matter what.
“Have fun tonight.” She waggled her brows.
I rolled my eyes. “Goodnight.” I practically shoved her toward the door. “Thank you again, Jo. Seriously.”
She lifted a shoulder. “You’d do the same for me.”
“I would. Absolutely.” I’d do anything for my best friend, and I was glad she knew it.
I closed the door softly behind her, sagging against it with a smile on my face. What a day. What a week.
I took off my shoes, and they dangled from my fingers as I wound my way through the penthouse. Everything was immaculate once more—the staff had been very efficient at cleaning up. The only things that remained were the flower arrangements that had lined the dining table, but they’d been scattered throughout the penthouse.
The aisle, the arch, everything else had vanished. Almost as if it had never even happened. But the ring on my finger said otherwise.
How nice it would be to put the Huxley staff to work at the chateau. Projects that usually took weeks would be accomplished in hours.
Graham was nowhere to be seen, so I ventured down the hall toward his office. I rapped my knuckles lightly on the door before entering. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He lifted his head from his laptop. He’d removed his jacket and tie, and his hair was wild, as if he’d been running his fingers through it. “Did you need something?”
“I, um—” I gnawed my bottom lip. “I just wondered if you wanted to share a drink.”
“I need to take care of some things before we leave for France.”
Oh.
“Right.” I hoped my face didn’t show the warmth creeping across my cheeks and down my neck. “Of course. I get it. You’re busy.” And this isn’t a real marriage.
He returned his attention to his screen, practically dismissing me. I slipped back out of his office, closing the door softly behind me.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I padded down the hall to my bedroom, tossing my shoes on the carpet.
I didn’t know why I was so surprised that he had immediately gone back to work. I guess I’d just hoped…
Hoped what? That he’d want to spend time together?
Yes, this was a business arrangement. A marriage in name only. He wanted something from me, and I needed something from him. But our relationship didn’t always have to be solely about business, did it?
It was our wedding night. I was his wife. His fake wife, yes. But even so, I couldn’t help but be a little disappointed at how quickly he’d gone back to business as usual.
He’d have drinks to celebrate closing a business deal, wouldn’t he? Why should this be any different?
I huffed, annoyed with myself. It shouldn’t matter. It didn’t matter.
I reached for the zipper. I twisted and tried to turn the material, but it wouldn’t budge. The more I tried, the more I resembled a dog chasing its tail. Until I was panting and my cheeks were red.
I huffed and headed back down the hall to Graham’s office. I stood there trying to compose myself. Trying to work up the nerve to knock again.
“Yes?” he asked, irritation creeping into his tone.
I entered the room, noting the glass of whiskey beside him. So, he’d wanted a drink; he just didn’t want to share one with me. Awesome.
I guessed now that the negotiations were over and the deal was done, he no longer felt the need to be charming. To pretend. At least, so long as we were alone.
“Can you help me with my dress?” I asked.
He stood and rounded the desk, stalking toward me like a panther. All sleek lines, power, and grace. He was elegant and intimidating—and hot.
“Spin.”
I turned so my back was to him. He gripped the fabric and tugged the zipper down, the sound of the teeth hissing as he took it lower and lower still. One of the straps slipped from my shoulder, sliding down over my skin. I clutched the front of my dress to my chest so it wouldn’t dip even lower.
Graham was silent, and a heavy tension filled the air. I could feel his eyes on my skin, perhaps noticing my lack of undergarments. Or maybe just aggravated by the interruption. Who knew. With him, it was often impossible to tell what he was thinking.
I felt the ghost of a whisper of his touch on my back, and then it was gone. He cleared his throat. “Need anything else?” The dark tone of his voice had my pulse quickening.
I paused, turning to find him watching me with something a lot like hunger.
I have to get out of here before I do something stupid.
“Nope!” I chirped, bolting for the door. “Thank you.”
When I glanced back at him, he was leaning against his desk. I gripped the edge of the door for support, annoyed at the sight of his long, elegant fingers wrapped around his glass of whiskey. “Enjoy your drink.”
He frowned, but I closed the door before he could say anything else. It was going to be a long, lonely two years of marriage.