Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Isla
Dorian sets my glass down on the balustrade, and the crystal chimes against the stone. The motion brings him even closer. Even though we’ve been at this for hours and I’m exhausted, he looks every bit as gorgeous as he did when I first saw him.
His bowtie is still perfect, his jacket unwrinkled, and his shirt pristine.
He has a tiny bit more stubble on his face, but that only makes him look even more devilishly handsome.
“I’m waiting.” His tone is infuriatingly calm.
Impossibly he moves just a tad closer, and I back up in a useless attempt to save myself. But I have to try, buying myself some time.
I tip my chin back so I can meet his eyes. “Because of my cat.”
He blinks. Once. Twice. Dorian Vale, billionaire loan shark, looks genuinely perplexed. “A cat? You have a cat?”
“Yes.” I cross my arms, the lace of Margaux’s ill-fitting gown scratching at my elbows. “Calypso. She’s a rescue, and I refuse to leave her alone for some extravagant honeymoon I didn’t sign up for.”
His mouth twitches—almost into a smile, but it’s too sharp for that. “You’re serious.”
“Deadly.” Even though my pulse is hammering, I hold my ground. “She’s family. Where I go, she goes.”
I try to hide my smile. “And remember, you said you could solve anything.”
For a moment, he just stares, assessing me like I’m a puzzle he hasn’t quite figured out.
“If you’re expecting me to go with you, she has to come too.”
He drags a hand into his hair. For the first time, I’ve seen a crack in his confident veneer.
“But she’ll be okay for the evening?”
Part of me can’t believe he gives a damn and isn’t forcing me to figure this out on my own. My respect for him reluctantly nudges up a notch. “Her caretaker should have fed her a couple of hours ago. But I’ve never left her for this long. She gets lonely, and she needs lots of enrichment.”
“Enrichment?”
Clearly that’s a foreign idea to him. “She requires a lot of playtime so she doesn’t get bored and destroy everything in sight.”
At my words, he goes pale. Maybe imagining her tearing up his expensive furniture?
“Fuck.”
“She really is wonderful.” I flash him a very big smile. “Cuddly. Adorable. You’re going to love her.”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you for being so considerate about this.”
Now he has no choice but to be my hero.
Once more, he sighs, the sound seeming to hang in the humid night air. “A cat named Calypso. Fine. Leave it to me. ”
“So… We can meet up another time?” I know I won’t get away with skipping the honeymoon entirely, not after what we’d shared earlier and his outrageous comments when he was feeding me a bite of cake.
“No.”
I scowl furiously. “Did you listen to anything I said?”
“Every word, Isla.” Very intentionally he sweeps his gaze over me. “Your tone, your inflection, your facial expressions.”
He can’t mean that.
“We’re not actually leaving town until tomorrow morning,” he goes on.
“But—”
“We’re not going far, and we’ll go get your pet before we fly out.”
“No harm will be done if I just go home now.”
Dorian’s steel eyes darken, and his polished facade splinters. His kindness has vanished, as if it was never there.
“Oh, it most certainly can, little one.” His voice has dropped so that it is low, velvety smooth, and dripping with intent.
He captures my shoulders and backs me up, trapping me against the limestone railing.
Smoothly, the security guard moves, positioning himself to block the handful of other guests milling about.
Dorian presses his heat against me, making it impossible to breathe in this muggy air.
“I’m not waiting any longer to have you.”
My breath catches as he slowly lifts one of his hands.
Then he hovers over the neckline of my gown. The lace dips low where it was meant to fit Margaux’s curves.
Very deliberately, slowly, he traces the opening. Like earlier, his touch is a sensuous tease, bringing me to life.
I should try to escape, but I’m hypnotized by him.
“You remember, don’t you?” he murmurs. “How hard your nipple got for me? I won’t forget it.” He slips inside the bodice, finding the peak through my bra, brushing it with a possessive stroke.
Despite my attempts to pretend I’m disinterested, I gasp.
“Like it was begging for my mouth.”
Response floods me, even as I shake my head in denial. “That’s not?—”
“You’ve got a lying mouth, little one.” With his thumb, he makes slow, torturous circles, and I bite my lip to stifle the sound clawing up my throat. “Your panties were damp earlier.”
A protest forms in my mind, but I can’t get the words out.
“You can say whatever you want, but your body will tell me the truth. And right now…” With his beautiful lips, he feathers kisses along my jawline, and when he speaks again, his voice is a growl. “You’re ready to melt in my arms and give me whatever I demand.”
My knees weaken, and I’m trembling, trapped in the web of his confidence.
“Shall I lift your gown and prove it again?” His free hand grazes the hem of the satin, a wicked glint in his eyes, and I freeze, scandalized.
“You wouldn’t!” Not here, on this balcony, with hundreds of guests just beyond the French doors.
Not with the warm night pressing in, the faint scent of jasmine from the trellis curling around us.
And worse—God, worse—he’d find out he’s right.
My thighs clench at the thought, and I can’t bear for him to know how badly I’m unraveling.
Before I can protest, he captures my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tipping my head back gently, a lie of his own. There’s nothing tender about this man.
Dorian claims my mouth, softly at first, a brush of lips that’s fleeting.
Then suddenly he changes tempo, becoming hot and demanding, as he tongue-fucks me in a rhythm that leaves me breathless, dizzy, clinging to the lapels of his jacket for stability.
My resolve crumbles, a soft moan slipping free, and I kiss him back, desperate and hating how good it feels.
He pulls away, lips glistening, eyes blazing with triumph. “As I said, I’m ready to have you.” His eyes are dark with purpose. “And you’re just as ready as I am.”
Before I can respond, he goes on, “Don’t try to pretend otherwise. Or I’ll goddamn-well prove it.”
After what he’s already done, I believe him.
“Want to try me?”
“No.” The word tumbles out quickly, miserably.
“I thought not.”
He steps back, giving me a chance to smooth the front of my dress.
“Our accommodations await.”
“Accommodations?”
“A guesthouse. It’s on the property.”
So there’s very little time until he makes me his wife in the biblical way.
I squeeze my eyes shut, hating that the clock is ticking, and yet part of me wants the awfulness to be over with.
A footfall startles me, and Brennan emerges from the shadows, his broad frame cutting through the night.
“Am I interrupting something?” His voice is low, a rich baritone that carries a hint of amusement, his faint scar catching the moonlight as he stops next to me, trapping me between the two of them.
Despite his casual tone, Brennan knows damn well what had been happening out here.
“We’re about finished,” Dorian replies, his gaze lingering on me. “Just letting Isla know what to expect soon.” He leans toward me, allowing his teeth to graze my earlobe in a sharp nip that makes me suck in a shallow breath. “Very soon.”
How can he keep undoing me so completely like this?
“The car is waiting,” Brennan tells Dorian.
To drive me to my doom.
“Let’s go.” Taking my elbow, Dorian steers me back toward the ballroom.
A woman in a sequined dress glances our way, then quickly averts her eyes, and my stomach lurches. Did she see? The kiss? His hand in my gown? Humiliation wars with the heat still pulsing through me.
Back inside the ballroom, Jaxon’s energy is keeping the crowd buzzing. His voice booms over the speakers as he spins another sultry track—something with a beat that vibrates through the hardwood dance floor.
“Time to say our goodbyes,” Dorian murmurs.
Flanked by Brennan on his far side, my husband keeps us moving toward the stage.
When we reach the edge of the dance floor, Jaxon spots us and leaps down from his DJ perch with that trademark swagger—tuxedo sharp, grin sharper. “There’s the power trio!” He claps Dorian on the shoulder. “Hell of a night, Vale. You know how to keep a secret.”
Dorian’s smile has a sharp edge.
Jaxon turns to me. “You did well, Mrs. Vale. Respect.”
I force a smile, my cheeks aching from the effort. “Thanks, Jaxon. You made it…memorable.”
He laughs. “As it should be.” After shaking Brennan’s hand, he heads back to his setup, already cueing the next song.
Dorian’s grip tightens, and he guides me toward Mrs. Henderson, who’s hovering near the double doors with her tablet and headset still in place.
“Mr. and Mrs. Vale.” She shows us her first real smile of the evening. Proof of how stressful our wedding has been? “Thank you for trusting me with your special day.”
“My wife and I are grateful for everything you did,” Dorian replies. “We couldn’t have managed without you.”
She nods. “My pleasure. I wish you many happy years ahead.”
Years? I won’t manage ten minutes.
“Thank you,” I tell her. Considering all the changes, she handled things like a true professional.
Evelyn hurries over, a flute of champagne in hand. “Isla!” She pulls me into a quick, fierce hug, careful not to spill. “You can’t put this off any longer?”
“I tried.” No matter how hard I try, I can’t smile. “Thanks for…everything. I’d have lost it without you.”
“Take care, okay?” She steps back, eyes soft but wary as they flick to Dorian and Brennan. “I’ll send you a message on social media and give you my phone number.”
“Thank you.” Since she’s Margaux’s friend, we have never exchanged contact information.
“If you need anything, even to get away from him, call me. I’ll be there for you.”
Her words catch me by surprise, and I appreciate them.
“Please, let me know how you are. Stay in touch. Okay?”