Chapter 15 Zofia
zofia
Despite Nic’s efforts, we didn’t skip the entire conference that day, even though I knew how antsy he was to say I do. I didn’t know what had changed between us, with him, but I liked it.
Especially if it meant that we could have a repeat like last night more often.
After the sessions ended for the afternoon, I headed out to shop—in the private town car that he’d hired for me.
I still wasn’t used to the way he wanted to pamper and spoil me, giving me his black American Express credit card to buy anything I wanted.
This was all new, and I didn’t know how to react.
I’d never been with someone like Nic before.
He didn’t throw his money around, and even though I knew his bank account had a lot of zeros after it, sometimes I forgot how wealthy he truly was.
I closed my eyes as I pulled on the white satin dress, loving the way the soft fabric felt against my skin.
True to his word, Nicolas had found a few different bridal boutiques and made appointments for me as a surprise—before he’d come up with the crazy idea of getting married before we left to go home.
“What do you think?” The sales associate asked me as I stared into the full-length mirror. The dress was calf-length and had an off-the-shoulder design with a structured bodice.
I looked like a bride. Before I’d left the room this morning, I’d pinned my curls up on my head, and when the sales girl helping me slid a tulle veil on a comb into the back of my hair, I knew this was the dress.
Fiddling with the gold pendant around my neck, I nodded. “It’s perfect.”
“You look beautiful,” she told me, resting her hand on my arm. “Your groom is one lucky man.”
“Thank you,” I said, unable to take my eyes off the mirror. “But I think I’m the lucky one.”
After a few extra stops, I arrived back to the suite, dress bag draped over one arm, and my shopping bags in the other.
There was a beautiful bouquet sitting on the table, and I reached out, brushing my fingers over the petal.
When I turned, I found my husband to be watching me, leaning against the doorframe.
“What are these?” I asked him as I took in the flowers, setting my bags down on the bed.
He looked nervous, and it was adorable. Most of the time, I could forget that he was two years younger than me, but times like this, it was obvious. “I thought you’d want a bouquet, so I called and…” Nicolas shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s too much, right?” He cursed.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I whispered. The bouquet was made of peonies, lilies, baby’s breath, and the gesture made my eyes water. “They’re beautiful.”
Nic grinned. “Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman.”
“Thank you,” I croaked, feeling overwhelmed with emotions.
He pulled me into his arms, holding me tight. “Anything for my wife.”
“Not your wife yet,” I reminded him.
He just grinned at me, his hand rubbing soothing circles on my back. “Tonight, Zo.”
I nodded and took a deep breath, inhaling his ocean-scented cologne. “Tonight.”
The little white chapel loomed in front of us, and I smoothed down the front of my dress, feeling nervous all the sudden.
“Having second thoughts?” he murmured at my side. I turned to look at him, appreciating how handsome he looked in his three-piece black suit with his blond hair combed back. He’d let it grow out a little, and I loved it was long enough for me to run my fingers through.
I frowned at him. “About what?”
Nicolas’s lips dipped close to my ear. “Our wedding.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I’m still game as long as you are.”
He chuckled. “That’s good to hear, but not what I meant.” His finger caressed under my chin before urging it up, forcing me to look at the decor. “I mean about this. Eloping. Not having a big wedding. The ceremony, the flowers, the dress.”
Sure, part of me wanted all of that. Especially after going to Angelina’s wedding this summer in France. But then I thought about the wedding I’d been planning with my ex, and how awful it had been, calling all the vendors to cancel.
“I don’t need that,” I answered, knowing I couldn’t go through the heartbreak of that again. “It’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but…” That was a real wedding, and ours was fake. I squeezed his hand. “This is fine,” I promised.
Fine was good enough for a contract, wasn’t it?
“Okay.” He looked like he was resisting reaching out to touch me. “If that’s what you want.”
My chin dipped in a nod. “It is.”
Nicolas looked away. “Right.”
“No Elvis,” I specified, narrowing my eyes.
He laughed, his hand wrapping around my neck, bringing us together before he dropped a kiss to my lips. “Agreed, Gorgeous. No Elvis. Just us.”
“Just Zofia and Nicolas,” I whispered.
“Ready to marry me?”
“Yes.”
And surprisingly, I was. Maybe it was the dress, the veil, and the bouquet he’d so thoughtfully gotten me, but I felt like a bride.
It was crazy that I was about to be someone’s wife. Contract or not, Nicolas was going to be my husband.
He laced his fingers through mine, and we walked in the chapel, finishing the rest of the process, though Nic had called earlier to set most of it up.
We’d chosen to do the photo package as well, so we had something to prove our wedding had actually happened and was legit.
With our wedding certificate in hand, we waited to be called up.
When it was our turn, we walked hand in hand into the chapel. I felt like I was clinging to him like he was my lifeline. In some ways, maybe he was.
The officiant looked at us, and after we nodded, started the ceremony. “Zofia and Nicolas, we are gathered here today in the heart of Las Vegas to celebrate your love and commitment to one another.”
We’d opted for something simple, which I preferred. I didn’t need all the bells and whistles for a marriage that wouldn’t last over two years. I clutched the bouquet in my other hand tighter, my heart racing a million miles per hour as they went through the words.
“Repeat after me,” the officiant said to me, and I nodded, swallowing roughly.
Holding Nicolas’s hands, I couldn’t look away from his eyes, wondering what this might feel like if it were real.
“I, Zofia, take you, Nicolas, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.”
My husband-to-be did the same, squeezing my hand before he started. "I, Nicolas, take you, Zofia, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.”
Our officiant looked between us, her eyes warm. “Do you have rings?”
Nicolas shook his head. Biting my lip, I pulled the gold band I’d bought him today out of my dress pocket—along with my engagement ring. “Here,” I whispered. I could see the question in his eyes, the surprise that I’d gotten him a ring, too.
But it was only fair, fake or not, that I returned the favor.
“These rings are a symbol of your love and commitment, an unbroken circle symbolizing an unending, committed love,” she said as we slid them on to each other’s ring fingers.
I’d gotten used to how the engagement ring looked on me, but it felt different now. More real, somehow.
“By the power vested in me by the State of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” she announced. “You may now kiss the bride!”
Nicolas stepped closer, one hand cupping the back of my neck and the other resting against the small of my back, as he pressed his lips against mine, soft and firm.
It was tender and precious, like he knew exactly what I needed in that moment.
He pulled back, resting his forehead against mine. “How do you feel, Mrs. Larsen?”
I couldn’t help but let out a giggle. “Like you should take me back to the room, Mr. Larsen.”
He grinned. “Anything for my wife.”
He picked me up into his arms and carried me bridal style out of the chapel.
The door slammed shut behind us when we finally made it back to our hotel room later, after an entire session of photos and consuming the best fast food and milkshake of my life. Maybe it was just because I’d been starving, or how greasy it was, but it was delicious.
Also delicious? My husband in his wedding suit. My husband wearing the ring I’d bought him. My husband, period.
It had been hard to focus as the photographer had repositioned us, as we were tangled up in each other, when all I wanted was for him to shed his golden retriever persona and be the man who fucked me like no one ever had in bed.
I was impossibly turned on, incredibly horny, and desperate for more.
His lips found mine in a desperate kiss, one that was hot and heavy and all tongue. He sucked my lower lip into his mouth, teeth dragging over skin, and I let out a soft moan.
“Fuck, the things you do to me,” he muttered, hands gripping my hips. “Need to fuck my wife.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “Please.” I let my head fall back as he kissed down my neck, wondering why we hadn’t been doing this all along.
“Turn around.” His voice was a rasp, so low that my nipples hardened. “I want to see you.”
I put my hand on his chest before he could unzip me, feeling shy all the sudden. “Wait. I, uh… I have a surprise for you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You do?”
I nodded, thinking about the pretty lingerie set I’d seen in a window earlier today and had bought on a whim.
What if he hated it? Maybe it was too forward buying lingerie for our wedding night, but I wanted to feel beautiful.
And it had looked so good on, making me feel confident in my skin in a way I hadn’t in a long time.
Nicolas adjusted his erection in his pants before taking a step back. “Okay, gorgeous. You’ve got five minutes before I come get you.” He winked, heading into the bedroom to sit on the bed.