Page 194 of Making Choices

However, I am a tiny bit scared of Gabriel Abaddon.

“Our methods have been perfected over the centuries. The risk of failure is non-existent.”

“Good. Because he’s my…” As I realise what I’m about to say, I trail off. With deliberateness, I swallow down the words and redirect my focus to the church. “Guess I’ll see you inside.”

“I’m not officiatin’ today.”

“Who is?”

“Roman Segarra.”

“From the Trinity?”

“Yes, Carter. The leader of the Australasian Trinity.” The emphasis he puts on my legal name makes me want to change it so he can never utter it again. My name is now tainted, a warning label. “It is a great honour—I should hope the Shamrocks have enough sense of occasion to refrain from mentionin’ that the union has already been made.”

“Of course,” I tell him. Straightening the suit jacket that I’ve been cajoled into wearing, I peer down at Gabriel. “The ritual is, um, we haven’t, ah…”

“I’m aware,” he remarks mildly. “If consummation had occurred already, the deal would be off.”

“You know,” I call after him as he dismisses me with a flick of his eyes and moves to head inside. “I liked you a lot better before I found out who you are.”

The flare of rage in his gaze has me second guessing my flippant comment. When Gabriel’s fingers flex and he moves his arm behind his back, I worry that he’s going to draw a gun on me for speaking out of turn. Thankfully, he settles for putting me in my place with a verbal reminder of the vow that was made when he agreed to help us.

“And who exactly am I, Slash?”

“Nobody.”

“Precisely.” Gabriel inclines his head. “I expect you won’t forget that.”

“I won’t.”

Sufficiently chastised, I give him a minute’s head start before I make my way into the church. The chapel is pulsing with activity as I enter the main area. Meeyal is funnelling the early arrivals to their seats, while Cub ensures that the floral decorations at the end of each row of pews are in the right place. Hunter fusses over something at the head of the aisle. Over by the vestibule, the Mayberry brothers, minus Everett, who has been conspicuous in his absence since I publicly destroyed his sister after our ceremony at the compound, are conversing with the sons of the Australian Trinity. The old timers, my father included, are deep in discussion with their fathers.

Roman Segarra runs his eyes over me.

I affect a half-bow in acknowledgment of the man dressed in a pitch-black robe with a blood-red rope securing it around his waist before I realise that I’m behaving like an idiot.

Blame it on the hangover I’m battling.

It’s addled my wits.

I spent the night celebrating my marriage at the compound. It was a spur of the moment decision, one predicated by necessity and fuelled by weakness. My duchess has been avoiding me since I announced that our first time together would take place in front of an audience, so I didn’t fight when Nadia informed me that Cherub wanted to spend the night before the wedding with her girlfriends. It was an obvious ploy to continue our mutual evasion—but I didn’t call it out. Instead, I told the women they could have the house to themselves while I stayed at the compound. I figured my wife deserved a night alone at home, time to get her bearings, the space to find her resolve to go through with what’s to come later this evening.

I can’t imagine how she feels about it.

As a willing participant in a public blowjob or two, spectator sex doesn’t faze me.

Still, I’d have preferred to have privacy the first time I bury myself inside my duchess.

My suit pants become uncomfortably tight, so I try to distract myself. While I’m scanning the rest of the rectangular room, the vise grip that’s been constricting my chest since I woke up this morning returns. Person by person, I try to discover the key to my calm, but it eludes me.

I’m searching for something specific—I have been all day.

I’m not sure what or whom I’m looking for.

I just know that it isn’t here.

“Mo ionmhas.” Mumma sidles up next to me. She’s obviously jittery with nerves as she straightens my tie, then undoes all her hard work when she tugs on it to make me stoop down to her level. “You’re so damn handsome, laddie.”

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