Page 25 of The Devil's Pawn

I don’t have anyone to answer to. No family to disappoint. No future husband to anger. Well, except this one, but I don’t think he’s anything like Carlito. At least I hope not.

“Are you ready to do this?” Dante asks from beside me, clutching a pen in his hand as he waits for me to sign the paperwork that’ll give us the marriage certificate.

Am I?

No. But it’s as ready as I’ll ever be. In three months, I’ll be starting a whole new life. A fresh start is something I never thought I’d have.

Taking a shaky breath, I turn my head to my right and find him staring back at me.

“I’m ready.” I pick up a pen, adding my name on the line.

That’s it. It’s done. Just like that.

The blue ink glares back at me, condemning me or praising me. I can’t be sure.

Holy shit. I just married a stranger.

Dante grabs the pen from me, folding the papers up. “All right. I’m going to take this to my contact, and we’ll have the certificate in a few hours.”

“That’s really it?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. What did you expect? A wedding?” He smirks. “I mean, I can arrange that too. I kind of want to see you wearing a white dress.”

“Not on your life,” I laugh as I swat him playfully on his arm, knowing he’s only teasing.

“Never say never.” He winks. “Oh, and I have a little wedding gift for you.”

“Dante.” My brows pinch with a heavy sigh. “I’m not really your wife, so you don’t have to spend money on me. You already went above and beyond with the clothes. And that lingerie. Seriously?”

He chuckles. “Think of the lingerie as your ‘just in case’ stash.”

“Just in case what?”

His gaze turns hot and heavy-lidded as his hand hungrily jumps to the back of my neck, roughly drawing me closer and making my mouth flirt with a hint of his. His lips just barely graze mine, and my breathing stills, a tremor running down my spine.

“Just in case you decide to find out what it feels like to fuck a man actually worth your time.”

I gasp, and my lower lip drops, accidentally sliding over his. My eyes widen, my breaths hitching, louder than any thunder shooting across the stormy skies.

His palm wraps tighter around me, our lips still stroking softly over one another’s, his roughened exhales bathing my mouth.

I want more than anything for him to kiss me.

My core clenches and throbs.

Just do it.

But he doesn’t. He turns away instead.

“Fuck,” he groans, his hand clutching the back of his head.

A few seconds later, his eyes are on mine, playfulness fitting over his face like a mask.

“About that surprise,” he tosses out. “Wait here while I get it.”

He marches out, practically two steps at a time, while I release an audible sigh, gripping the edge of the table.

I’ve only been here half a day and I already want to fuck him.

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