Page 161 of Modern Romance March 2025 (5-8)

She braced herself for him to say something dismissive as he took it. It wasn’t even real gold.

“Had I known, I would have bought a charm for it.” He fastened it and the brush of his fingers against her skin made her pulse trip. “Instead, I bought this.” He reached for an embossed bag he’d set on the table and withdrew a wide velvet case. Inside was a necklace with matching earrings.

She gasped, not insulting him by asking if they were real stones, but she did say with shaken hope, “A loan?”

“No, they’re yours. A wedding gift.”

“Atlas.” She couldn’t imagine what he’d paid for the intricate setting of marquise and pear-shaped diamonds set into a vine-like design. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You know what I want you to say. ‘I do.’” He drew a circle with his finger, urging her to turn so he could fasten the necklace.

After he did, his touch traced the vee in the back of her dress, tickling against her skin until he reached where the buttons formed a line down her spine.

“These look designed to slow down an eager groom.”

Trembling, she moved to the mirror to admire the necklace, which was so stunning it blinded her. She shakily removed her small gold studs—which had been an act of defiance since her father said only harlots pierced their ears.

She inserted the diamonds and the sway of their drops made her more aware of herself and how feminine she felt. The necklace was a weighty reminder of the magnitude of the step she was taking, but there was no going back. Atlas was holding the door, watching her with such a look of possessiveness, the air crackled.

It only took a few minutes to reach the courthouse. Inside, a young man greeted them. He held a small bouquet and had a satchel over his shoulder. He wore a dark suit and an excited expression.

“Stella, this is Yana, from our London office. He works closely with my assistant, Derik. He has agreed to help us until Derik is back from vacation, but if you find you’re compatible, you may want to keep him as your own assistant.”

“I don’t think I’ll need one, will I?”

“You will,” Atlas assured her. “Think of all those phone calls and incidentals you pick up for guests at the hotel. Yana will do that for you so you can spend your time on more important things.”

“Like you?” she teased.

“Exactly.” His mouth tilted with dark satisfaction.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Miss Sutter,” Yana said in accented English as he offered the bouquet. “The wedding planner is upstairs, finalizing the paperwork. Shall we go?”

The chamber was surprisingly romantic with a vaulted ceiling and ornate murals on the walls. The ceremony itself was only a few minutes, but unhurried and filled with wishes that they embark on a life of caring and friendship.

As they exchanged rings, pincers of uncertainty took hold of her heart, but if she had harbored any girlish dreams around marriage or her wedding day, they had featured this man.

She had never imagined it would truly happen, though!

Even so, his hand was settling against the side of her neck. He sealed their marriage with a too-brief brush of his lips against hers.

At the last second, as he was about to draw away, he pressed back to crush her mouth with his own. It didn’t hurt, but it sent a deep sting through her—excitement and a sort of appeasement, but also stoked the fear she had barely acknowledged. That she wasn’t enough. That the things he made her feel were too big. Too much.

When he drew back, she discovered her hand was clenched around his lapel. Her mouth burned and her heart thudded. She felt ravaged.

But wanted. Needed, even.

She blinked back emotive tears and signed the papers with a pen the stylist had lent her as her “something borrowed.”

Yana took their photo on the stairs a moment later, offering congratulations as he lowered the camera.

They were married.

* * *

* * *

Chilled champagne waited in the room along with fresh strawberries, a selection of chocolates, an extravagant arrangement of flowers, and a blend of essential oils for the bath labeled Relax and Romance.

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