Chapter 32
AOIFE
Istare at myself in the en suite mirror. The dress I picked out is nothing like the one Rory put me in. This one is all my choosing. And it is stunning.
Soft ivory chiffon drapes over me in clean, fluid lines, weightless and unstructured.
It skims rather than clings, falling from delicate straps into a gently gathered waist before floating to the floor in a long, effortless sweep.
This dress isn’t designed to seduce. It’s elegant. Virginal. Dominic is going to love it.
In just over an hour, I’m going to be legally tied to the most dangerous man in Dublin. And it’s up to me to decide if this is still an arrangement, or if it’s forever. My pulse ricochets, and I drag several long, slow breaths deep into my lungs.
A soft knock taps against the bedroom door. ‘Aoife, love? It’s time,’ Sheila calls gently.
Time.
I grab the tiny Jimmy Choo clutch bag that matches my heels, stuff my lipstick and phone into it, gather the floaty skirt of my dress, and step out into the hallway.
Sheila gasps, covering her mouth as she catches sight of me. ‘You look absolutely beautiful.’ She fans her face like she’s about to cry.
I don’t have a mother, not anymore, but if I did, this is the reaction I’d crave from her on my wedding day. ‘Thank you.’ I squeeze her arm. ‘For everything.’ I motion to my dress.
She reaches for my arm and squeezes it reassuringly, guiding me towards the top of the stairs. ‘I’ll see you at the hotel.’
Dominic and I have decided to travel to The Shelbourne together.
It’s a statement, but the truth is, I feel better with him by my side. Not simply safe, but strong. I like the woman I am when I’m with him; I just don’t know if I like her more than the woman I thought I wanted to be.
My stomach swoops as I start the descent down the wide stairs. Sunlight spills in through the tall windows, illuminating the plants and greenery below like an enchanted secret garden.
Dominic waits at the bottom. A black tuxedo sculpts every hard line of his body.
His shirt is a crisp white that contrasts with his tanned skin to perfection.
His black bow tie is secured tightly around his neck.
He looks utterly devastating. Powerful. Male perfection personified.
His head tilts up, and those black, awe-filled eyes meet mine.
The air crackles. That ever-present invisible attraction thrums incessantly between us again.
But there’s no denying—it’s so much more than lust. So much more than what either of us signed up for.
His pupils roam over my body, drinking in every detail of my dress and the shoes he bought for me. Approval flashes over his face. Approval, heat, and hunger.
He extends a hand as I reach the bottom step. I slip my tiny palm into his and heat scalds my skin.
‘You look stunning,’ he murmurs into my ear, his hot breath fanning my neck. I stand in front of him, craning my neck to meet his eye again as he towers over me, dark and formidable.
‘So do you.’ I run my hand over the lapel of his tuxedo.
‘Are you ready?’ he offers me his elbow.
I link my arm through his, my palm settling on his huge bicep. His masculine scent crawls into my nose and into my lungs as I brace myself for the biggest day of my life to date. ‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’
‘Good girl.’ His deep, husky approval skates over my skin.
Outside, the BMW awaits, a big beautiful ivory bow stretched across the hood. Dom opens the back door, and inside is a lavish bouquet of blush pink peonies, tied with a blush pink ribbon—my favourite.
I look at him and bite back a smile. ‘I already agreed to marry you,’ I remind him. ‘You don’t have to woo me with my favourite flowers.’
He helps me into the car, lifting the chiffon as I climb in. ‘I like wooing you.’ He winks. ‘Especially with my tongue.’
I shuffle over the cream leather and he slides in beside me.
Lewis is in the driver’s seat. I’ve come to learn he’s Dominic’s head of security. James occupies the passenger seat. I’ve seen them around the grounds the past few weeks, along with another guy called Logan—he was the one who set up my fingerprint ID on the front door.
‘Ready, lovebirds?’ Lewis twists his head to face us.
I suck in a deep breath.
If Dominic’s men aren’t already aware of the reason for our shotgun wedding, they’ll find out soon enough. Dominic is still convinced Rory Kavanagh will bring war to his door—our door. A shiver of apprehension ripples over my spine.
I turn to face him. Our eyes lock. ‘Do you think it’s true what they say?’ I whisper.
‘About what?’
‘It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding. Are we doomed before we even begin?’
‘We make our own luck.’ His lips tip upward. He leans closer until his mouth brushes my ear. ‘Did you decide if you’re going to give yourself to me yet?’ His fingers stroke the back of my hand.
I meet his eyes.
I have a sinking sensation it was never a question of if, but when.
‘Is there any part of you that wants to do this?’ He murmurs, brushing his lips over mine in a tender, fleeting kiss, and I glimpse something in him that I’ve never seen before. Nor ever expected to see.
Vulnerability.
‘Because, quite frankly,’ he says in a low voice, ‘I’m terrified by how much I want to. And how badly I want you to choose this—me.’
I can’t bring myself to answer him.
Because if I do, I’ll be admitting out loud that I’ve chosen the dark side.
Instead, I rip my eyes away before he can read my thoughts like an open book.
He squeezes my hand gently, and I know that he knows.