Page 70 of Devil's Tulip

We return to the main house, where a long table overflowing with food awaits. But I’m still too stuffed from the breakfast Gracie gave to eat anything. So instead, I reach for the sweet, bubbly drink in front of me, sipping quietly as the conversation flows around me.

One glass. Then another.

Someone refills it. Then again. And again.

At some point, I lose track of how many glasses I’ve had. And—inevitably—I get drunk.

Michael notices, of course, and gets to his feet. “Thank you for witnessing our wedding, but it’s time for my bride and me to retire,” he says, addressing Maximo and Elira—who instructed me to call herLirasince we’re basically sisters now.

I snort. “Retire.” The word rolls off my tongue, then gets tangled somewhere. “Such an arctic–arcrum–achric word.”

“You mean archaic?” Michael asks, blue eyes gleaming with amusement.

I nod solemnly, then puff out my chest and deepen my voice to mimic him. “My bride and I are going to retire now.” I reach for my glass again?—

But Michael beats me to it, plucking it right out of my grasp.

“I think you’ve had enough, love.”

Something about the way he says it—soft, amused, maybe even fond—has me melting into his side, my head resting on his shoulder.

My fingers drift lazily up his chest. “Now that we’re married, will you get a tattoo for me on your body?” I pause, frowning dramatically. “Wait, never mind. You don’t have any space left on your skin. That’s so unfair.” I pout up at him, and he chuckles.

“I’ll make space for you.” There’s a double meaning in his promise, but I can’t grasp it right now—too distracted by Lira and her husband getting up. They say their goodbyes, and suddenly, it’s just me and my husband.

My husband. A thrill zips through me.

“Why did you marry me, Michael?” I ask him as he gets to his feet. He offers me a hand, and the second I take it, the room tilts sweetly around me, sending me crashing straight into his chest. “Oops,” I giggle, clinging to him like that was totally intentional.

“What do you mean, why did I marry you?” His hands slide under my knees, lifting me effortlessly into his arms.

“I mean…” I loop my arms around his neck. “I know what I’m getting from marrying you—protection. But what aboutyou? What are you getting?”

He meets my eyes with a quiet certainty, like the answer is the most obvious thing in the world. “You.”

My head spins, but it has nothing to do with the alcohol, and my heart stutters, pounding in slow, heavy beats. Before I can stop myself, I lift my chin and kiss him.

He stumbles.

I tighten my grip around his neck, steadying us both. “Are you okay?” I ask, my lips brushing his as I pull back.

“I’m fine.” He clears his throat. “You just… surprised me, is all.”

I smirk, toying with the lapels of his shirt before resting my head on his chest with a satisfied sigh. He adjusts me in his arms, carrying me up the stairs and down the hallway.

Then I notice.

“You passed my bedroom,” It’s not a complaint—just an observation. Because truthfully, Iwantto go to his room.

“Yeah,” he says, shifting me slightly so he can punch in a door code. “I have something for you.”

Curiosity sparks through my drunken haze as he shoulders the door open and carries me straight to his bed, carefully lowering me onto the plush mattress. Then, he opens his bedside drawer and takes out a small box.

“Ohh, is it jewelry?” I perk up instantly. “I love jewelry. Can you see my earring?” I turn my neck to show off my ear. “It’s all bling-y and sparkly and pretty.”

Michael smiles as he hands me the box and gently tugs on my earlobe. “It’s not as bling-y and sparkly and pretty as you are.”

That’s funny, so I laugh. But as I open the box, the laughter catches in my throat.

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