Page 143 of Poison Vows

My wife is silent the entire time we’re being declared as officially married, signing the marriage license that was already prepared beforehand.

I’m stunned to see it has all of my details are on the papers instead of Vaughn’s—proving once more how wrong I’ve been about my mother’s father.

He knew all along that I would never let Vaughn marry her.

As for Angel, she stares at the papers, clearly realizing something too. She scoffs, then signs without a smile, let alone sparing me a glance, and soon after, we’re pronounced husband and wife.

My wife!

A shudder goes through me at the delectable weight those two words have on my heart.

Two words I never thought I’d ever utter and even if I did, it would be in reference to the girl dressed in a beautiful whitegown that she secretly designed, looking so fucking ravishing, I’ve hardly been able to take my eyes off of her even when I was doling out some punishments earlier.

She’s all I was thinking about when I was away.

She’s all I wanted to see, get back to… and then set free.

And now, she’s my wife!

What kind of gift is this? I don’t deserve it, but by God, I won’t squander it. Never her.

Now that I’ve been given a sort of new lease to life, I’ll do everything and then some, to show her everything I’d kept buried in me.

I can’t wait.

But the entire time, my wife stands beside me, tense, aloof, and slightly bewildered… and it’s whittling away at my own patience.

I hate this! Actually, in all the times she’s been livid with me, she’s never been this closed off before, as if she erected a thick, solid ice wall between us.

Now, had it been before, I’d resentfully allow her to be, but this is now… I can’t have that between us anymore.

So I grab her hand firmly in mine, bringing her back to me.

I wait for her to look at me and when she does, I almost jump up for joy when I see the blaze in her eyes.

She’s angry.Good.

So long as the captivating embers in her eyes are still ablaze with something that gives her life, then we’re still all right.

She can fight me.

She can curse me out.

So long as she keeps doingsomethingwith me, thenwe’re good.

But other things should be made clear, just to give her something to chew on for now.

“Well,Mrs. Emmett Easton,”I whisper. “How is this for playing with fire you can’t handle? Are you regretting me yet?”

She gasps, her lips parting open in a way that captivates me.

I quickly straighten up before I lose it again and look at the ‘witnesses’.

None of them cheer or toss rice at us when I walk down the aisle with my wife.

As a matter of fact, it’s dead silent.

But silence doesn’t always equal submission or surrender.

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