Chapter 34
AOIFE
It’s not the first time we’ve had an audience, and they certainly didn’t get the same show we gave the last one, but something about him claiming me in public set every cell in my body urgently screaming with the need to consummate this marriage—with whatever conditions he demands.
I can’t deny it.
I love him.
I choose him.
And I would choose him again.
Because I’ve realised over the past few weeks, a life with Dominic isn’t a sentence. It’s something to be savoured.
Dominic watches me knowingly as we sign the paperwork.
He feels the shift.
Knows I’ve submitted to him, even though I haven’t said a word. He feels it. Because he’s right. We’re soulmates.
The photographer snaps shot after shot of us smiling, his arms around my shoulders, on my waist, my back.
They don’t leave my body for a single second.
Confetti flies at us from every direction.
Mama K, Sheila, and Dominic’s brothers, Cathal and Owen, congratulate us with hugs, handshakes, and kisses, welcoming me to the family.
I’m introduced to another brother, Tristan, who is as mysterious, dark and distinguished as the other brothers.
When it’s time for the drinks reception, Dominic motions for Abby and Ciaran to fall into line behind us.
Ciaran offers her his arm. She stares warily at it for a long beat before taking it.
I don’t blame her. Not when she grew up listening to the same whispered rumours as I did.
But I’ve come to know a different Dominic Kincaid.
One I could never have dreamed of. There’s a darkness there, but it’s deeply decadent and promises a type of devotion I’ve only ever read about in romance novels.
The neglected primal part of me can’t wait to peel back more layers.
I’m too invested in the present to worry about the future.
I’m going to have sex with Dominic Kincaid. It was inevitable.
His big black eyes peruse mine as he beams at me. He has me. And he knows it.
I’m his wife.
Safe.
Protected.
But more importantly—loved.
I know what he is. And I still want him. I still want to feel his hands roaming over every inch of my body, even though I know those hands are covered in blood.
Hell, it turns me on that the blood is the blood of my enemies.
He reaches for my hand, igniting every nerve ending in my body. ‘Mrs Kincaid,’ he murmurs into my ear, and his deep voice slides over my spine. ‘It has a nice ring to it.’ His thumb glides over the wedding band on my left hand.
He’s not joking. The ring is stunning. Again, it’s too much, but the man I just married admits he doesn’t do anything by half—and I mean anything.
‘Are you ready to greet our guests?’ He cocks his head.
‘The quicker we get this over with, the quicker we can consummate our marriage.’ His pupils gleam, and a hot bolt of lust darts between my legs.
‘Cocky, aren’t you?’
‘Confident, Mrs Kincaid.’ His hand remains possessively at the small of my back as he ushers me into the bar.
The décor is comprised of dark wood, candlelight, white tablecloths, and polished brass.
The scent of expensive wine hangs in the air.
The room adorned with more peonies, hundreds of huge, church-sized candles, and a six-tier wedding cake takes up the corner of the room.
One long table dominates the side of the room, dressed in ivory linen and gold-rimmed glassware. Fresh white peonies spill down the centre, candles flickering between crystal decanters of whiskey. The far end of the table is filled with crystal flutes fizzing with champagne.
The place suddenly fills with faces I don’t recognise.
For a split second, I falter.
Dominic’s hand presses firmer at my back.
‘I’ve got you,’ he murmurs, guiding me forward until we’re standing beside the cake. People approach. Shake hands. Offer kisses. We’re handed champagne. Abby lingers beside me, actively trying to avoid Ciaran, but it’s too busy for us to get a chance to talk.
‘Let’s get the speeches out of the way before…
dinner,’ Dominic murmurs in my ear in a voice that leaves me in no doubt about what he’s planning on devouring.
He clears his throat and taps his champagne flute with a knife.
‘Ladies and gentlemen.’ His eyes gleam and the room falls silent.
‘And Ciaran.’ Laughter ripples around the roof before silence.
‘I’d like you to raise your glasses to my wife,’ he pauses, as his obsidian eyes bore into mine, ‘Aoife Kincaid.’
The crowd roars as Dominic clinks his glass against mine. He motions for quiet so he can continue. ‘Not only is she absolutely stunning, but she’s also the most selfless, brave woman I’ve ever met, and I love her more than life itself,’ he booms, and there’s no mistaking the sincerity in his tone.
A chorus of ahhhs pierce the air.
My heart swells in my chest, and hot tears well in my eyes. He already had me. He didn’t have to go and make me cry as well.
‘Thank you, for doing me the great honour of becoming my wife.’ He tugs my body until I’m facing him, then pulls my body flush against his. His lips lower to mine and the room erupts again.
When he tears his lips away, those big dark orbs glint with the promise of pure primal pleasure. ‘I can’t wait to get you to the honeymoon suite,’ he whispers.
My stomach flips at the prospect. We’re booked into the hotel tonight. Tomorrow we’re fleeing the country for fourteen nights. I can’t wait.
Before I can answer, I’m swamped by a bunch of strangers—dangerous strangers—kissing my cheek, shaking my hand, offering congratulations.
I spot Sheila through the crowd. She barges through a barrel of men in suits to get to us.
‘Congratulations, you gorgeous couple.’ She hugs me tight against her bosom.
My hair catches in her hoop earring, and it takes an age to disentangle myself.
Cathal approaches, then Owen. Both are as intimidating and gorgeous as they were the first time I met them.
‘White really is your colour,’ Owen winks.
‘Shut your mouth,’ Dominic growls as Mama K approaches us again, clutching what looks like a double whiskey.
‘I think I worked it out.’ Her eyes dart sharply between us.
‘What did you work out exactly?’ Dominic presses a kiss to her cheek.
Oh shit. We’ve barely been married an hour and our arrangement is busted. Would it make a difference if I told her things have gotten very real between us? I lean into my husband for fear my legs might actually give way beneath me.
Mama K’s attention shifts to me, then the diamond rings glittering on my finger. ‘You’re pregnant, aren’t you? That’s what the urgency was about, right?’
‘If she’s not, she will be before the night is over,’ Ciaran quips. ‘The way they were kissing, I thought he was going to take her right there in front of all of us,’ he chuckles, reaching for another champagne flute.
My cheeks flame. I squeeze my eyes shut. He’s not wrong. The thought crossed my mind too.
Dominic’s thick fingers squeeze my shoulder reassuringly. ‘No, Mama K, Aoife isn’t pregnant.’ His lips graze my temple. ‘Yet.’
I gasp and he laughs. He’s joking, right?
Glasses clink. Conversation resumes. Rapid-fired questions fire our way.
Where did we meet?
How long have we been together?
Are we going on honeymoon?
Dominic answers smoothly when I hesitate. His hand still doesn’t drift from my body, and I’m so grateful for it, because even though our relationship has shifted, him choosing this hotel, inviting this crowd, was strategic. A declaration.
Along the street, through the tall front windows, I can see it—the faint outline of Rory Kavanagh’s Victorian mansion.
Close enough to taunt.
Close enough to provoke.
We’ve started a war.
And all I can do is pray my husband is not one of the casualties.
Because I am head over heels in love with him.