Chapter 8 #2
Nobody is treating this like what it definitely is not, and that’s the union of two willing parties who have chosen to love and honor each other for eternity. It’s the exact opposite, in fact.
Ma steps forward, her assessing gaze never leaving Tierney's face. “Welcome to the family. I know the circumstances aren’t ideal, but we hope that you'll last longer than Bronx's usual... interests.”
The insult is delivered with such polite venom that even I'm impressed. Tierney's spine goes stiff.
“I'm sure I'll exceed everyone's expectations,” she replies, matching Ma's ice-cold tone perfectly.
“We'll see,” Ma says with a thin smile.
Inside the courthouse, we join the line of couples waiting for their turn to be announced as husband and wife. The atmosphere is surreal. Some people are genuinely happy, others look nervous, and then there's us. The other end of the spectrum.
“Look around,” I mutter to Tierney. “See all these people actually choosing this?”
I follow her gaze as she glances at the other couples, the young lovers holding hands, older couples with quiet smiles, a pair who can barely keep their hands off each other.
“Your point?” she hisses.
“My point is they're here because they want to be. While you're here under duress.” I lean closer, my voice dropping. “Makes it so much more interesting, don’t you think? Like, what else am I gonna make you do that you’re gonna hate?”
“You're sick.”
“And you like that, don’t you.” I phrase it as a statement, not a question since we both know the answer. I watch her face, noting the quick rise and fall of her chest, the way she keeps licking her lips. “I can tell by your breathing.”
A pink flush of color warms her cheeks. “I am not—"
“Those pretty cheeks don't lie, princess.” My gaze drops to her mouth. “Neither does that little vein in your throat that's about to explode out of your skin.”
“Viacava?” A court clerk calls our name before she can respond.
“Saved by the bureaucracy,” I murmur, taking her arm. “Come on, Mrs. Viacava. Time to make it official.”
The ceremony takes place in a sterile room with fluorescent lighting and beige walls. My family files in behind us, creating a wall of expensive suits and cold stares. They’re here for support but nobody’s got any delusions about who is marrying into the Viacava empire.
Tierney stands beside me, every line of her body screaming resistance.
“We are gathered here today,” the judge begins in a monotone voice, “to join these two people in marriage...”
I tune out the standard speech, focused instead on the woman beside me. Her fists are clenched so tight, her knuckles are white.
“Do you, Bronx Viacava,” the judge drones, “take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife...”
“I do.” I put everything into those two words. Possession. Promise. Threat. “Completely and permanently.”
Tierney's head snaps toward me, and I meet her gaze with a raised eyebrow.
“And do you, Tierney Blake,” the judge continues, “take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband...”
The pause stretches out. Her murderous gaze doesn’t scare me. It excites me. I’ll save that one for later to rile her up again, not that it’s gonna take much to accomplish that goal.
“Say it,” I murmur, low enough that only she can hear. “Say you're mine.”
Her jaw tightens. “I do.”
It's barely audible.
“Louder,” I tell her, my voice just as quiet but infinitely more dangerous. “I want my family to hear you accept me.”
Those blue eyes flash with pure fury, but she lifts her chin.
“I do,” she says, her voice loud and clear.
We exchange the rings. Her eyes drop to the diamond and platinum band I slide onto her finger, glaring at it like it’s a shackle.
“You may kiss the bride.”
She goes rigid when I cup her face in my hands, tilting her chin up.
“Try not to bite me,” I say, aware of our audience. “We have company. Save the kinky shit for later.”
Her lips part, no doubt to make a comment. But instead, I capture her lips with my own. The kiss is claiming, possessive, and designed to show everyone in this room exactly who she belongs to now. For a second, she melts into me. Then she remembers and tugs herself out of my grip.
“There.” I say loud enough for everyone to hear. “Now you're officially Mrs. Viacava.”
Outside the courthouse, my family offers their congratulations with varying degrees of warmth ranging from arctic to crisp before dispersing to their cars. Back in my Mercedes, Tierney is quiet, staring at the ring on her finger.
“How does it feel to be married?” I ask.
“Like I'm wearing handcuffs.”
“You're not wrong.” I watch her try to twist the ring off. “Beautiful, expensive handcuffs.”
“It's too tight—"
“It's sized perfectly. It's not coming off.”
She drops her hand into her lap. “So what happens now?”
“Now we go home and you learn what it means to be my wife.”
She rolls her eyes. “I told you there’s no way in hell we’re sleeping together. I hope your hand is well rested since it’ll be the only thing entertaining you on the honeymoon.”
“We're married now.” I let my gaze travel down her body slowly, deliberately. “That changes things.”
“It changes nothing.”
“We'll see about that, Mrs. Viacava.”
When we arrive back at my building, I get out first and walk around to open her door. Again, she ignores my hand and pushes past me.
I watch as she struts into the building, my lips forming a small smile as she blows into the place, all hell hath no fury.
She's my wife now. Legally, officially, permanently.
The ring on her finger proves it. The fury in her eyes promises this is going to be interesting.
She thinks she can resist me, thinks she’s getting out after six months.
She has no idea what I'm capable of.
This marriage might have been her father’s idea, but making her want me?
That's gonna be pure pleasure.