Page 154 of Mr. Wicked

I slid my finger under the thick, glued flap, where there was more cream and a hint of charcoal on the inside, and I pulled out the invitation. Jovana loved the simplicity of the design, how the actual invite was wrapped in a piece of clear vellum paper with a gold wax seal securing it shut and our initials engraved in the middle of the wax.

I didn’t know why I didn’t wait for her.

Why I pulled the wax off, unwrapped the vellum, and held the invitation in my palms.

But something made me want to see it.

Feel it.

Read the words.

Assess the heaviness as it sat in my hands.

Each invite was slightly unique since the flowers that ran along the side of the rectangle were all hand-painted by a local artist. The paper was then run through a printer with gold ink, where all the details were outlined, like our names and the location and time of the event. A small return envelope was included that requested the guest’s response and choice of entrée, whether it be meat, fish, or vegan.

Only seventy-five people were invited.

A group that was just small and intimate enough, despite the fact that I could have asked colleagues and business associates and all my employees, having more than five hundred attend.

Neither of us wanted something large.

That wasn’t because we were under contract and what would happen after the twelve months was in question.

That was because we wanted to share the day with those closest to us.

To have time to spend with our friends and family rather than making small talk with so many extra guests.

To have the ability to spend the night dancing with my wife.

My wife.

Goddamn it.

That word didn’t feel natural, but it came out so easily as I stared at our names on the paper.

I’d told Jovana I cared about her.

That I wanted more.

That I wanted us.

And I’d informed the guys that there was love there.

And there was.

I felt it every morning when I looked at her, asleep in my bed. When I ran my hand down her bare back and kissed her shoulder. When I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent she’d left on my pillow.

I’d felt it when I’d reached around and grabbed her ass before she’d left for her walk. When she’d pressed her lips against mine. When she told me she’d see me after lunch.

When I knew I’d miss her while she was gone.

Like I did now.

I didn’t know what she had done to me. What type of sorcery was inside that woman to make a man like me completely fall for her.

But it had happened.

And now I was marrying her.

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