Page 143 of Bad Little Bride

Her eyes narrow. “Do you love him?”

My lips flatten and her brows shoot up. “Oh my god. He lovesyou.”

I bristle, anger bubbling up, then I’m rounding on her. “Why sound so surprised?”

“Because you met with a man who wanted to murder your father and asked him to marry you. No fucking duh, I’m surprised.” Her glare holds a long moment, then a smile spreads across her face, and she throws herself at me, her head tossed back as she laughs. “Fuck, I thought Bastian was going to have to kill him tomorrow at the reception, had it all planned out, just in case, and everything. This is so much better!”

I gape at her, and her grin widens. Just like that, she turns to her best friends and starts searching through the racks of gowns once more, like she didn’t just tell me they were planning to murder my man at my own wedding.

Not that they’d get that far.

Not that I would let them if they tried.

My eyes lift, sliding to the left, and there he is, standing on the balcony of the second floor, staring right at me. It’s like there’s nothing between us, not a few hundred yards or two stories, or these guests.

No secrets.

No lies.

No contract.

But there is one thing that threatens our future, and we just can’t have that now, can we?

Enzo’s eyes narrow, his hands wrapping around the railing, and I offer him a small, bratty wave.

“Don’t worry, dear husband,” I mumble to myself.

This one’s on me…

Chapter

Twenty-Nine

Boston

Enzo kisses up my scar,over my shoulder, then up my collarbone, sucking on the deepest curve of the column of my neck, leaving yet another mark behind. My body is covered in them by now, but I welcome the soft sting…and the hickey he leaves behind. This will be the only one visible today as it is. I think.

“Enzo.”

“Baby.”

“We have to get up.”

“It’s our wedding. We arrive when we arrive.”

A small smile curves my mouth, and I go to look at him over my shoulder, but he captures my lips instantly, hand coming around and cupping my jaw as he pushes his tongue inside, sweeping it along mine with long, languid strokes. Heat flares in my core and I moan into him, whining unintentionally when he pulls back. His forehead drops to mine just as I feel something cool press against my chest.

Looking down, I find my ring, dangling from a small chain the same shade of rose gold as the band.

“You might not be able to put it on your finger yet, and you might decide you don’t want it on there at all now, but just in case…”

I open my palm, and he sets the necklace in my hand, drawing my left up and kissing my ring finger for the hundredth time. “Does this mean I’m allowed to take it off when I dance now?” I tease.

“Baby, you can throw it in the lake if you want.” He shifts slightly, crawling over me and pushing me onto my back. “My name is on your skin.” He pushes inside me in one slow thrust, making both of us groan in unison. “And today, everyone we know will either be witness to, or made aware that this thing between us is no time passer, but the be-all and end-fucking-all. They will hear your name and when they speak it,myname will be the one to follow. Enzo Fikile. Mrs. Enzo Fikile. Boston Fikile, Enzo Fikile’s wife.” He buries himself deeper, arching up into me, bending and taking my nipple between his teeth. “Mine,” he hisses, eyes flicking up and taking mine hostage. “Every inch. Every breath. Every fucking day.”

“Yes.” I move with him, already on the edge of climax when there’s a knock at the door.

But Enzo doesn’t stop.

---