Chapter Ten
ANDIE STARED AT HER phone screen for a long moment.
The numbers glowed back at her, simple and stark.
A routing number.
An account number.
And finally—
$55,000.00.
Her thumb hovered over the Send button.
This was it.
This was everything she’d come to San Antonio for.
She pressed Send.
And just like that, all fifty-five thousand dollars was gone from her account.
Andie waited for the relief to hit. The triumph. The sense of finally, finally having accomplished what she’d set out to do.
Instead, she just felt...numb.
She lowered the phone to her lap and stared at the wall of the jet’s private bathroom—all marble and brushed gold fixtures, because of course even the bathroom on Paul’s plane looked like it belonged in a five-star hotel.
The last few hours felt like a fever dream.
The wedding ceremony, brief and surreal, with Harry and Star crying and their husbands pretending they weren’t. The judge’s voice intoning words that changed everything. Paul’s hand gripping hers like he was afraid she’d disappear again.
The kiss.
That kiss.
And then somehow they were in a car, and then somehow they were at an airport, and then somehow she was walking up the steps of a private jet while a flight attendant welcomed her aboard like this was all perfectly normal.
Like people got married to billionaires they’d known for three days and flew off into the sunset every afternoon.
Her phone buzzed.
A notification from her bank.
Payment received. Transaction complete.
Her chest tightened.
It was done.
The money had arrived.
And now it was time to tell her husband...because she didn’t want to start her marriage with a lie.
Andie tucked her phone into the small clutch she’d been carrying since the courthouse and stepped out of the bathroom.
Paul was waiting in the main cabin, his tall frame silhouetted against the windows. He’d loosened his tie and undone the top button of his shirt, and something about that small dishevelment made her heart do a complicated little flip.
Her husband.
This impossibly beautiful man was her husband.
“There you are.” His gray eyes swept over her, warm and proprietary in a way that made her skin tingle. “I was beginning to think you’d made another run for it.”
“Very funny.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
Her heart ached.
This man, oh, this man...
“I’m yours,” she whispered.
Something flashed in his eyes.
Something...that she herself wasn’t quite ready to decipher.
Especially since she wasn’t quite sure that something would last...once she told him the truth.
“It can wait.” He was already pulling her toward the back of the plane. “But first...” Paul guided her through a door at the rear of the cabin, and whatever she’d been about to say evaporated entirely.
A bedroom.
There was a bedroom on this plane.
She should have expected this, shouldn’t she?
And...it wasn’t just some small room, but a suite.
With a queen-sized bed that dominated the space, its linens crisp and white against dark wood paneling. Soft lighting cast everything in a warm glow, and through the windows, she could see clouds drifting past like cotton scattered across an endless blue.
“This is where we’d, um...sleep?”
Paul’s hands settled on her waist as he turned her to face him. “Who says anything about sleeping?”
His mouth found hers before she could respond, and any remaining thoughts about confessions or bank transfers simply...dissolved.
This kiss...
It was different from the others.
Slower.
Deeper.
Like her husband had all the time in the world and intended to use every second of it.
His hands slid up her back, fingers tracing the line of her spine through the delicate fabric of her wedding dress. Andie melted against him, her own hands finding his shoulders, gripping the fine wool of his jacket.
“I’ve been wanting to do this,” Paul murmured against her lips, “since the moment you walked toward me in that courtroom.”
“We’ve been married for—” She tried to think. Failed. “—three hours?”
“The longest three hours of my life.”
He was walking her backward, slow and deliberate. Her knees hit the edge of the bed, and she sat down hard, the mattress dipping beneath her weight.
Paul loomed over her, one hand braced beside her head, his gray eyes dark with want.
“I’ve thought about this.” His voice was rough. Strained. “Thought about having you in my bed. Thought about all the things I want to do to you.”
“Paul—”
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
She shook her head, mute.
“Let me show you.”
He kissed her again, harder this time, his tongue sweeping past her lips. Her back met the mattress, and then he was covering her, his weight pressing her into those impossibly soft sheets.
His mouth trailed down her throat. His hands found the zipper at the back of her dress, drawing it down with agonizing slowness. Cool air kissed her bare skin as he peeled the fabric away, exposing the white lace beneath.
“Every inch of you...”
The words were reverent, almost pained.
“I can’t believe you’re mine.”
His mouth found the peak of her breast through the lace, and she arched off the bed with a cry.
“That’s it.” His voice was a dark purr against her sensitized flesh. “Let me hear you.”
He lavished attention on one breast, then the other, his tongue tracing patterns that made her writhe. When his teeth scraped gently against her nipple, she shattered—her whole body convulsing with pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.
But he wasn’t done.
His mouth moved lower, trailing kisses down her stomach. His fingers hooked into the waistband of her underwear, and she should have felt self-conscious—should have felt something other than desperate, aching need—
But Paul was looking at her like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“I need to taste you.” He was asking permission. Even now. “Let me taste you.”
“Yes.” The word came out broken. “Please—”
His mouth descended, his tongue parting her slick folds, and Andie’s world exploded.
She’d read about this in her romance novels. But reading was nothing—nothing—compared to the reality of Paul’s mouth on her most intimate flesh, his tongue stroking and teasing in ways that made her sob his name.
Her fingers drove through his hair. Her thighs trembled around his head. And when he found that hidden bundle of nerves and sucked—
She shattered completely, her body arching as waves of pleasure crashed through her.
When she finally came back to herself, Paul had moved up her body, his forehead pressed to hers.
“I need to be inside you.” The words were rough, desperate. “Andromeda. I need—”
“Yes.” She was reaching for his belt, fumbling with the buckle. “Yes, now—”
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We’ll be beginning our descent into Aspen in approximately fifteen minutes. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts.”
They both froze.
Paul’s head dropped to her shoulder, and the sound that escaped him was somewhere between a groan and a curse.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Andie bit her lip, trying not to laugh. And failing.
“It’s not funny,” Paul growled.
“It’s a little funny.”
But he was smiling—actually smiling—as he pulled back to look at her. His hair was a mess, his composure thoroughly destroyed.
He looked human.
He looked...hers.
Or at least that was what he looked about half an hour ago.
Now, though?
“Are we there yet?”
She had no idea...since Paul had her on blindfold even before leaving the jet.
All she could figure out since then was that he had bundled her inside another car, and they were on their way to somewhere.
..up, with how Andie could feel the car climbing, the road winding in switchbacks and causing her to press against Paul’s side with every turn.
“Patience, koukla mou.”
Andie made a face, which he presumably saw since she heard him chuckle after a moment. In situations like this, patience wasn’t her strongest suit at all.
More minutes passed, and she noticed the air turning colder, carrying the scent of pine and snow.
Mountains then, Andie thought. They were driving up a mountain.
The drive seemed to take forever before the car finally rolled to a stop.
“Keep your eyes closed,” Paul instructed as he helped her out. Cold air hit her immediately—sharp, clean, carrying the particular silence that only came with snow.
“Ready?”
She nodded.
The blindfold fell away.
“Oh my goodness.”
A...castle?
As in...an actual castle, rising from the mountainside like something out of a fever dream. Stone towers and pointed spires and massive wooden doors and gargoyles perched on corners.
Behind her, the sun was setting over the Colorado Rockies, painting the snow-capped peaks in shades of pink and gold.
“I rented it for the night,” Paul said. “But I can purchase it. If you want to live here.”
She could only laugh and shake her head. Either that...or start questioning her sanity.
Didn’t he realize how insanely unreal he sounded, asking her if she wanted him to buy a castle like he was asking her if she wanted a cheeseburger?
“I noticed in the bookstore that you seemed partial to fantasy. The special editions you were looking at—they were all romantasies.”
Oh, this man.
She so loved that he had noticed the little things about her.
But...
To rent a castle just because she loved romantasies?
She had never thought of herself as a gold-digger, but now she wasn’t sure. It felt as if she was starting to fall in love with him, but was that because he was Paul being Paul...or was it because he was a billionaire?
Please don’t let me mess this up, God.
Paul guided her inside, and her knees nearly buckled.
Wow, oh wow.
The interior was like stepping into one of her books.
Stone walls hung with tapestries. Chandeliers dripping with crystals.
Fireplaces large enough to roast an ox. And in the dressing room, a selection of Renaissance gowns hung waiting: velvet and brocade and silk, in jewel tones that gleamed like precious stones.
When Andie turned to Paul, and he saw the way her eyes had completely lit up—
“No.”
She laughed.
He scowled.
“I mean it,” her husband growled. “No fucking way.”
Ten minutes later, she was laughing so hard she could barely breathe.
Paul stood before her in full Renaissance regalia—doublet, fitted trousers, cape—his face so stoic he looked like a portrait of an annoyed nobleman.
“You look dashing,” she managed.
“I look ridiculous.”
“You look dashing.”
Then his gaze dropped to her neckline, and the glare transformed into something else entirely.
Uh-oh.
Renaissance gowns were notoriously low-cut, and in exchange for him saying yes to dressing up, she had agreed to wear whatever he chose.
And of course her husband just had to choose the gown that had the lowest neckline, and it went so, so low that she was seriously worried her breasts would pop out—
“I can’t wait for dessert, koukla mou.”
She blinked.
How did he already—
Oh!
A blush stole over Andie’s cheeks when she realized where he was staring, and her husband smirked.
Argh!
It was pretty much the same for the rest of the evening, with her husband doing his very best to seduce, annoy, and make her squirm all at the same time.
And of course he succeeded.
So much so that by the time he swept her up in his arms—
Aaah.
All Andie could do was bite her lip to keep herself from whimpering.
She couldn’t remember being this wet.
Couldn’t remember her body aching this hard.
Couldn’t couldn’t keep herself from shuddering as they finally made it to the bedroom, and he gently lowered her to her feet.
The bedroom was even more extravagant than the rest of the castle. A four-poster bed draped in velvet curtains. A fire crackling in the hearth. Candles casting everything in flickering gold.
She wished she could savor the sight of it, really.
But right now, all she could look at...
All she cared about...
Paul.
Her husband circled behind her, and she felt his breath against her neck.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been wanting to get you out of this dress?”
“I—”
“Since you put it on.”
“—would not have guessed that,” Andie squeaked out.
His fingers found the laces of her corset, and she could only gulp as the laces loosened.
“I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.” His voice was rough against her ear. “It terrifies me. You terrify me.”
Another lace pulled free.
His hands were shaking, she realized with wonder. Her composed, controlled husband—his hands were actually shaking.
“I’m scared too,” she whispered. “Of how much I feel.”
“What do you want?”
“You.” The word came out broken. “I just want you.”
He made a sound—low and desperate—and suddenly the laces were being torn, the corset falling away as he spun her to face him.
His mouth crashed into hers.
His hands gripped her waist, lifting her, and her legs wrapped around him as he carried her toward the bed.
The velvet gown pooled around them as they fell onto the mattress. His fingers found the neckline, pulling it down, exposing the swell of her breasts above the thin shift—
That’s when she felt it.
A familiar cramping low in her belly.
A sudden, unmistakable dampness.
Oh no.
Andie jumped back from her husband.
“C-can I have a second?”
Paul froze, his hands still on her neckline, his eyes dazed.
“Of course. Is everything—”
“Fine! I’m fine. Just—one second.”
She scrambled off the bed and fled to the en-suite.
No.
It can’t be.
But indeed it was.
On her wedding night...she had her period.