Page 18 of Obsession

“You’re being a brat, Madi.” He tsks, the vibration of the action sending a spark through my body. “What did I tell you about being a brat, hmm? It’s gonna get you punished.”

Heat rises to my face, even though I’m begging myself to not be affected. Adrian notices the minute he pulls back, that smug smirk widening on his cheeks as he takes my hand. It feels like he’s leading me to my death as we step up to the altar where the priest is waiting.

Butterflies twist my stomach as he continues to hold my hand. He nods at the Father to begin this joke of a marriage ceremony. I don’t hear any of what’s being said, I just hear Adrian’s voice on a loop in my mind.You’re being a brat, Madi. It’s gonna get you punished.

I wonder what a punishment from Adrian looks like… From my father, it would hurt, leave bruises on more than just my skin. Even from Marcus, a punishment would mean pain. My scalp tingles in response to the thought, like I can feel him pulling my hair as he drags me through the house, even though he’s not here at all. My mother punished with words. Or lack of them. The silent treatment was her favorite way to show me I meant nothing to her.

So many options, I can’t decide what I think Adrian will pick. But he doesn’t seem like my father or brother. I don’t think he’d physically hurt me. And ignoring me would be a gift.

“And now for the vows. Madi, repeat after me.” My name coming from the priest’s mouth nearly makes me jump out of my skin.

“Actually,” I interrupt him before he can start spitting out the normal vows, a new plan coming to life. Adrian already said he was going to punish me, what’s a little more at this point? “I wrote my own.”

Adrian’s eyebrows lift, questions showing on his face, and I swear I can hear my mother audibly gasp from her pew.

“Go head.” The priest gestures for me to begin, and I suck in a deep breath, steeling my spine as I prepare to improv my vows to the man I hate.

“I vow to be there for you in sickness and in health, especially when the sickness is the result of my cooking, and the health is the miraculous outcome of surviving it.” I can hear my mother mutter Jesus’s name from her pew, as this is surely the embarrassment she told me to avoid. “I promise to cherish and respect you, in every argument that we have, ensuring I always have the last word. I vow to support you through all your hard times, standing by your side, and occasionally reminding you, 'I told you so,' in most of them. And I vow toalwaysbe there for you. Just remember, you’re stuck with me now.”

I feel validated hearing a few giggles from the crowd as I finish my vows, but quickly, that’s wiped away from the amused look on Adrian’s face. He doesn’t seem angry at all. Rather, he seems like he enjoyed every word.

The priest nods at Adrian.

“That was beautiful,wife.”The way he calls me wife opens a pit in the bottom of my stomach that threatens to swallow me whole. “I wrote my own as well.”

Adrian recites standard sweet vows. Promising to take care of me forever, to love me through everything. The thought of forever makes me want to throw up. I inhale deeply to keep myself from vomiting all over his leather shoes. I thought I would catch him off guard by writing my own, making him stumble through his vows, but he’s not affected by me in the slightest. He must finish because then the priest announces us as Mr. and Mrs. Russo and tells Adrian to kiss me.

There’s that sly smile on his face as he leans in, his lips ghosting my ear. “Such boldness in your vows, princess. It seems only fair that I hold up my end of the bargain. I can’t wait to punish you tonight,” he whispers, and I’m still frozen when he moves his head, bringing his lips to mine in a searing kiss that makes me dizzy.

The world stops spinning as his tongue breaks the seal of my lips, invading me as his arms wrap around my body, holding me close. There are whoops and cheers coming from the crowd, but all of it is hazy background noise.

When Adrian finally lets me go, my lips are buzzing, pulse fluttering and face flushed, and the asshole looks satisfied as ever.

So much for not letting him affect me.

There’s a parade.

A goddamnparadeafter the ceremony.

Adrian has a million-watt smile as he raises a teal parasol in time with the music. I can’t help but notice the color is a perfect match to his bow tie. Two things are bothering me about the sight as I take my own white lace parasol.

One, is that while I kept as far away from wedding planning as possible, I still know the chosen colors are pale pink and champagne gold. His unique teal color scheme seems out of place and has me itching to run my fingers through my hair. The color feels like a phantom limb, like something that should be there even though it’s not. Why did he choosethatcolor?

Two... “Why the fuck are we having a parade?” I ask out loud.

“It’s tradition.” Adrian grins as he continues to wave to the crowds gathering at the edges of the sidewalks.

Thetraditionis loud and has too many eyeballs pointed in my direction. People look and cheer as we follow the small brass band. It should be a short trek to the restaurant, but the charade is drawn out as we’re guided down the long way.

Traditions are everything in our world. God forbid you step out of line and beunique.This one, however, feels like a show made specifically for my discomfort.

But I guess the wedding wouldn’t be a PR spectacle without thespectacle.

“Kiss her!” someone shouts from the crowd, and people chant their agreement with loud cheers and hollers.

Adrian’s kiss from the church is still burning on my lips, confusing the shit out of me as we’re dragged through the French Quarter. I’m not ready for a repeat, but when he turns to me, that same grin plastered across his face, I don’t think I have much of a choice.

“Should we give the people what they want?” he asks, sounding as arrogant as can be.

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