Page 40 of Marrying the Enemy

She shook her head in answer. “Nonna was Catholic, but I haven’t gone since her funeral. What about a prenup? We need time for that.”

“We’ll sign something that ensures our properties remain our own until such time as we’ve worked out more formal contracts post-nup. You’re right. Those negotiations could take months, but if we’re already married, that should take a lot of the contention out of it.”

“Because Nico needs your money? Dom—”

“No. I know what you’re going to say and no, I don’t want to wait. We can put off sex until our wedding night, if that’s important to you, but I want that night to arrive very soon.”

“Are you laughing at me?” Because she hadn’t been waiting for her wedding night. She’d been waiting for him.

“I’m laughing at both of us.” He reached across the table to still the hand that was nervously playing with the stem on her wineglass. “We’ve wasted enough time, Evie.”

Heaven help her, she felt the same. Even these weeks since Australia felt like time they’d thrown away out of stubbornness and stupidity when she could have had that hand all over her. The mere touch of it was making her tremble with desire.

“All right,” she murmured. “Let’s fly back to New York tonight.”

This was likely to be a disaster, but she was marrying Domenico Blackwood.

By the time Dom’s private jet landed in New York, rumors of their engagement had leaked from the restaurant onto the global airwaves. It was midmorning and, since Eve also had her identification on her, he had his driver take them straight to the courthouse to apply for a marriage license.

The law required they wait twenty-four hours so he booked them an officiant for precisely twenty-four hours later. At her request, he dropped Eve at a boutique while he made the rest of the arrangements for their wedding.

It was just a business deal with a side of sex, but an unfamiliar restlessness stalked him until they met again at his penthouse. Then he finally relaxed, which unsettled him in a different way.

Evie was crashing from jet lag so he put her in a guest room—reluctantly—and found his own bed a few hours later.

The following day, he invited his mother and Nico to his penthouse. He didn’t tell either of them what was happening so his mother arrived without her partner, perhaps expecting an update on the stock portfolio he managed for her.

“Oh,” Kathleen Blackwood said with a self-conscious touch of the pearls when he introduced Eve and explained what was happening. “I would have worn something nicer if I’d known.” She was as elegantly turned out as always in a sweater set over a slimline skirt, hair coiffed and makeup flawless. “It was kind of you to invite me,” she said as she pressed her cheek to each of Eve’s.

“Dom said you were the one person on his side who might actually support this marriage,” Eve said with a hopeful quirk of her brows. “And since my own mother isn’t here, I wonder if you’d be willing to come zip me into my gown?” She was still in the yoga pants and loose T-shirt she’d put on when she rose.

“I’d be honored.”

Kathleen came back to the lounge a few minutes later wearing a smile he’d never seen before. It was somewhere between serene and optimistic. Maybe even, as she found him across the room, pride?

An unsteady sensation hit the middle of his chest, one that made him look impatiently for Evie so he wouldn’t have to examine whatever this inner wobble was.

“She’ll be out in a moment,” his mother said as she squeezed his arm. “You know, given how your father always talked about them, I don’t think I could have imagined a Visconti being so charming. She’s lovely, Dom. I’m really touched that you chose to include me. I hope this means that... Well, that things can start to heal. For everyone.”

The way she searched his eyes caused the wobble inside him to grow worse.

It’s practical, he wanted to argue. Just business. Just sex.

It wasn’t supposed to be an emotional tonic. That was too much pressure to put on either of them.

The elevator dinged, saving him from the sense of walls closing in.

“That’ll be Evie’s brother.” He started to brush past her, but he hesitated and gave her arm a light squeeze. “Thank you for being here. I hope we can all move forward, too.”

Nico entered and grew both confused and suspicious when Dom introduced him to his mother.

Evie came out from the bedroom in a gown the color of whipped cream. Its one-shoulder crepe fabric clung smoothly and seamlessly to her torso and hips, flaring midthigh just wide enough for her to walk. Her hair was in a simple knot held with a silver clasp.

Such a jolt of pleasure hit him at the sight of her, Dom could hardly breathe. He’d had a fresh haircut yesterday and shaved this morning. He was dressed in his best suit, but he suddenly wished he’d had time to have a new one made. As much as he wanted this union formalized and finalized—and consummated—he could see the care Eve had taken despite this not being the wedding of her dreams.

It struck him that his sisters had approached their own wedding days with giddy excitement. Eve was very subdued, especially as she came up against her brother’s thunderous reaction.

“What the hell, Lina?”

---