Chapter 30 Scarlett
THIRTY
Scarlett
After nearly a million pictures, we’re finally released for the reception. Dinner is a five-course affair served on the terrace, followed by dancing on the patio under strings of lights.
I slip away from Brendan, who’s deep in conversation with Brax about Sunday’s game, to refill my water. That’s when the DJ’s voice announces, “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the wedding-party dance!”
The last time I tried to get Brendan to dance, at that sports bar in Charlotte, he was so hesitant he practically had to be dragged onto the floor against his will. And even then, he looked like he was suffering for me.
I turn around, already planning to tell him it’s okay if he wants to sit this one out—and nearly walk straight into him.
He’s standing there, hand extended, an intense look in his eyes. “Dance with me, Scarlett.”
It’s not him asking. He’s showing how much he loves me. Enough to set aside all his insecurities and put his heart on the line for me.
I stare at his hand, then up at his face. “Are you serious? I thought you hated dancing.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He smirks. “I remember enjoying that night on the beach when we finally danced together.”
I take an unsteady breath. “But this is in front of everyone. Your entire family.” I narrow my eyes. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
He chuckles. “Yes.” He threads his fingers through mine and leads me to the dance floor. “You’re mine for this dance, Scarlett. I want to make everyone here wish they were us.”
We take our place, and he pulls me against him as the music begins. His body is warm and solid as one hand wraps around my palm.
“I don’t understand,” I say. “You’re the guy who acts like dancing is as fun as airport security.”
His other hand anchors at the base of my spine, the heat of his palm sending a current through me. “Let’s just say, you’ve been a good influence on me.”
“What do you mean?”
His mouth curves. “I’ve been practicing.”
“Hold up.” I blink, barely able to get the words out. “You’ve been practicing this?”
“Every chance I had.”
Then he starts to move, and I realize he’s actually good.
He leads me across the floor, and the connection between us is electric, just like every time we dance together.
Except this time, we’re strangely at ease with the way our bodies move together.
His dark gaze stays on me the whole time, and every point of our bodies where we’re touching feels like fire.
He dips me so smoothly, my breath catches in my throat. “Where did you learn to dance like this?”
He gives me a sheepish grin. “At first, I tried practicing with some of the hockey guys. That was basically a disaster that ended in a stick brawl.”
My eyebrows rise. “So I have the Crushers to thank for this?”
“Don’t encourage them.” He spins me out and back in with perfect timing. “You have Carmen to thank, actually. I snuck away to practice with her in the library whenever you were busy.”
“You practiced with your sister?”
“I don’t like being bad at things, Scarlett.” He turns me again. “I want to be good at this for you.”
My heart squeezes in my chest. “Joanne from the sports bar would be so proud.”
He chuckles, then turns me in a smooth circle before pulling me back to him. “I realized something that night in Charlotte.” His thumb traces circles on my back. “I never want to be the guy who says no to you—not about dancing or anything else.”
His eyes lock with mine. “So I made myself a promise. That I’d be the man who says yes to you. Who learns to dance because you love it and wears heart pajamas because you buy them for me. Everything you want, I’ll say yes to it, for the rest of your life.”
I look up at him, too stunned for words.
“Say something, Scarlett,” he whispers. “Because I just put my heart on the line, and you’ve gone silent on me.”
“That’s because I can’t breathe. Just like when we were in the hot tub.”
He leans closer, his breath brushing my ear. “If you thought what happened in that hot tub was something, just wait. I’m just getting started with you, Heart-Jammies.”
Something heats in my stomach. “You’re going to ruin me, Brendan Marco.”
“That’s the idea,” he says, voice rumbling. “I want you ruined for anyone else, because my family loves you too much to lose you.” His gaze levels with mine. “And so do I.”
Then he presses a kiss to my forehead, and I close my eyes, wanting this moment to last forever.
“By the way, my family is thrilled you’re here with me, Scarlett,” he whispers. “My mom’s already planning for you to come for the holidays.”
“What? Don’t you think this is moving really fast?”
“No.” He tips my chin up to look at him. “This is moving exactly twelve years too slow.”
A soft feeling settles inside me. “Then I won’t make you wait any longer.”
He dips his face, his forehead touching mine. “I wasted so much time, Scarlett. I’m not wasting another second.”
The music ends and he kisses me, right there on the dance floor, in front of his entire family, announcing to the world that I’m his.
That I belong here.
And I let him.
I’ve spent so much of my life waiting for permission to belong somewhere. Waiting for someone to tell me I was enough. But standing here, with this man, I finally understand. The permission was always mine to give.
When we finally break apart, he doesn’t move away. “Was that too much? I know this is supposed to be Carmen’s moment.”
“Look at your sister.” I nod toward Carmen and Tony dancing nearby.
Carmen catches our eyes and grins, giving a thumbs up that only we can see. Tony just shakes his head and smiles.
“Okay, I think we’re good,” Brendan says with a laugh.
Behind the bar, I see Rafael Marco watching us. He drains what’s left of his drink in one swallow.
This is my chance to talk to him, maybe my only shot, since he doesn’t look like the dancing type and might possibly leave early.
My stomach twists. Why does he intimidate me so much? Is it from that night in the hospital waiting room? Or because of what Taylor said? I don’t even know that it’s the truth.
Besides, I have some fresh ideas for the vendor contract that might be helpful for him to consider before he makes a decision.
I’ve spent the last week refining my proposal, thinking about ways to integrate the cafe with game-day operations.
If I can just get five minutes with him, it could make all the difference.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Brendan, squeezing his hand. “I need a drink after all that dancing.”
He grins, pulling me in for one more kiss on my temple. “Don’t be long.”
I leave him with the groomsmen and make my way through the crowd, my heart pounding.
When I reach the bar, I slide onto the stool next to Rafael, checking over my shoulder to make sure Brendan isn’t watching.
A few of the hockey players who came today have him cornered now, which gives me at least a few minutes.
I feel like I need to do this—to prove to myself that I can talk to Rafael Marco about the contract without Brendan nearby.
Whatever happens, I need to do this for my father.
The doctors say he has plenty of good years ahead of him as long as the treatments work.
But good years cost us money we don’t have, and watching him stress about medical bills is something I refuse to accept anymore.
This contract would give him back what matters most—time with Mom and Eli and me.
I order a club soda, then turn toward Rafael Marco. “Beautiful wedding,” I say, glancing over at him.
“Indeed.” He doesn’t look at me, just swirls the ice in his empty glass.
I take a breath, trying to steady my nerves. “Mr. Marco, I wanted to talk to you about some ideas I have for the vendor contract. If you have a moment.”
He looks at me then, and something cold slides down my spine. Or maybe my nerves are kicking in and I imagined it.
“Miss Rossi,” he says stiffly. “I can’t discuss the vendor contract with you just because you’re dating my nephew. You’ll receive a letter when I make my decision.”
“Of course, but I just wanted you to know how much this opportunity means to my family, especially with my dad sick—”
“I’m aware,” he cuts me off. “But let me be clear: dating my nephew doesn’t give you an advantage in this decision. There is one other serious applicant with significantly more experience in other arenas.”
“Oh.” I work to keep my voice steady even though I feel like I’ve been hit by a bucket of ice water. “I see.”
He signals the bartender for another drink. “And, Miss Rossi? I know why you’re dating my nephew.”
My body goes rigid. “What do you mean?”
“You wanted the contract.” He says it like a statement of fact. “And you thought a relationship with Brendan would help you get access to the money.”
“That’s not true,” I say a bit too defensively, which I realize too late makes me sound like it is.
Still, a tiny part of me wonders if there’s a grain of truth there. Didn’t I agree to this arrangement partly for the money this contract would bring in?
No. Of course it wasn’t for the money. It was for my dad, so we can pay his medical bills and save our family business. That’s not the same as taking advantage of someone.
He accepts another drink from the bartender. “The timing is rather convenient. You submit your application, and suddenly Brendan is bringing you to family events, encouraging his mother, and everyone else, to see you as an answer to prayer.”
“No.” I shake my head, a fire igniting inside me. “I care for Brendan. I’m not using him.”
“Perhaps.” He takes a sip of his drink. “But forgive me if I’m skeptical.
People always want what the Marco name has to offer them.
I’ve been burned before, and it cost me considerably.
” He looks back at couples dancing. “You see, I’ve been watching you two this week.
And something kept nagging at me. A feeling like we’d met before. ”
Everything in me grinds to a halt. No.