Page 131 of One Wealthy Wedding

“He’s such a fucking prick,” I say. “I can’t believe that. You’re way smarter than he is. He’s threatened by you.”

Theo’s hand comes up to stroke over my jaw. “I know.”

“I’m going to kill him,” I seethe.

“I know.” Theo tilts my face up. “You’re sexy when you’re angry.” He’s giving me that crooked smile that makes him look like he knows what color my panties are and he plans to shred them later.

“You’re not even listening,” I say.

“Oh, I’m listening. You’re just magnificent, and all the blood is rushing to my cock.”

I choke a laugh, and he dips his head to capture the sound. He tastes like wine. His lips are warm and delicious, and the way he strokes his tongue over mine makes me gasp and clutch at his lapels.

“That’s it, princess,” he murmurs before he nips at my lip. “Kiss me.”

“I am kissing you. I’m not going to climb you in the middle of this party just to prove a point.”

“No one’s watching us,” he whispers. “This kiss is just for me.” His mouth claims mine again, searing me. His body covers me from view of the party. I’m wrapped up in him—his heat, his strength, the firmness of his lips. I push my fingers under the lapels of his jacket. I want to feel him. I want to savor the beat of his heart under my palm, this man who is brave and tortured and unyielding. He growls his approval into my mouth as I deepen our kiss and dig my fingers into his chest.

When he finally breaks the kiss, I sag against the wall like I’m boneless. “I like when you look like that,” he says.

“Like what?” I sound dazed, even to myself.

His breath whispers over my ear as he bends his head. “Like you want me to fuck you.”

Heat blazes through me. I do want that. I want to leave here with him right now. My stomach is tumbling, the words yes, please on the tip of my tongue.

That’s when we hear “Theo. Let’s play.”

“Lorenzo,” Theo says. “There’s a private poker game. Want to give them a show?”

The poker game is held in a room off the terrace. There are crystal vases, a haze of cigar smoke, and portraits of dead ancestors on the walls.

“You wanted debauchery,” Theo murmurs. “Here you go.”

We’re greeted by a chorus of “Theo” and “here he is” and “married now, you old dog?”

He slaps backs and introduces me to the men, each of whom is impeccably dressed, some of them obviously European, with their shined shoes and tailored suits. There’s one man who’s rather serious and all alone, sipping a glass of whiskey. He greets me with a polite nod and a “congratulations.”

“Aiden Prince,” Theo says with a note of respect in his voice. The name is fitting. The man does look like royalty. His face looks like it inspired Greek statues, especially with how serious his expression is. He’s the only one here without a partner, and he looks absolutely bored. The other men introduce me to their girlfriends and wives, then Lorenzo enters the room with the dealer, and a cheer goes up from the crowd.

Theo seats himself on one of the green velvet chairs and raises a brow expectantly. “Join me, princess,” he says. On his lap, he means. Am I really about to do this? This feels a hell of a lot like selling myself. “I dare you,” he mouths.

We’re in this together. Theo won’t let me fall. This might be sexist and dumb, but Theo isn’t. He’s on my side.

I settle on his lap and slide back into him, like we did when we practiced at home. And just like then, I feel like I’m on fire.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers in my ear. “I’ll make it up to you. You’re helping me play a part tonight.”

His hand settles on my hip, and his breath puffs over my ear, moving my hair in gentle flutters. Theo’s first hand is good. A pocket pair of kings. I tense until he presses his lips to my neck. “Don’t react,” he says, low and dark. I shiver as his stubble scratches my skin.

Theo plays lazily, like he couldn’t care less if he wins or loses, but beneath me, his thigh is tense. The chatter around the table flows around us. He responds easily, lightly.

He wins the first hand, and the second.

I flinch when his next hand is just an off-suit two-seven. His lips are at my ear again. “You’re going to give us away, princess. While I don’t need the money, I do want to win.” His hand tightens on my hip.

I turn my face, press my cheek to his. It looks like we’re embracing. Hell, it feels like we are. My stomach is alight with nerves. “Your cards are shit, sweetheart,” I say.

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