Page 26 of Kinks of a Billionaire
He didn’t elaborate, and I fixed him with a stare that demanded answers. He stepped into the empty elevator andpressed the button for the top floor. “And why do you need my parents’ priest?”
His lip twitched. “I have to confess my sins.”
The elevator doors closed and the silent ascent to my hotel room began.
“Sins or kinks?” I teased, attempting to cut through the electricity that crackled between us.
He flicked me a look full of fire. “Maybe both?”
I smiled, then immediately winced and reached up to cup my jaw. It was enough to remind us of what brought us here, and the mood sombered. Priest and everything forgotten, I tightened my grip around the nape of his neck and released a tight breath, hoping this knot in my chest would loosen.
“Just don’t kill him, Royce,” I murmured. “Stuart isn’t worth it.”
Royce’s face shifted into an unreadable mask, but his body emanated something equivalent to arctic temperatures in the dead of winter.
Foreboding slithered down my spine, warning me that Royce’s cold fury was more dangerous than anything.
“Don’t worry, baby,” he said. “Iwon’t be killing anyone today.”
As the elevator dinged and the door slid open, I couldn’t shake the sense of impending danger.
A dust of luck had us running into a maid who opened the door to my hotel room—after Royce flashed her his irresistible smile and a stack of bills, of course.
“Don’t tell anyone you saw us.” His threat was delivered with charm and subtle tension threading his muscles.
“I won’t, sir. Not a word.”
He nodded, satisfied, and she scurried away. Once inside, we glanced around the room, which stood exactly the way it did yesterday. My wedding dress hung on the door, staring back at us mockingly. I imagined what Stuart’s room looked like, and wondered whether he’d called housekeeping to straighten up after he attacked me.
Royce set me gently on the edge of the bed, grabbed my duffle bag, then started efficiently packing all my items into it. It took him all of two minutes for the room to bear no evidence of my ever being here.
He stopped in front of the last item—my wedding dress. “Who picked it out?”
“It was my mother’s,” I murmured, rubbing my belly absentmindedly. The ache in my body throbbed, but it wasn’t unbearable now that I got the doctor’s assurance the baby was healthy and safe. “With minor adjustments to fit me.”
He nodded, pulled out his phone, then started typing furiously. Three consecutive chimes rang out, and just as I began to wonder who all he’d sent those messages to, he slid the delicate material off the hanger and unzipped it. “Okay, let’s put it on.”
My brows pulled together. “Why? I’m not getting married today.”
When he faced me, his smile was all lazy charm, and I could finally see the Royce countless women had experienced before me. Dangerous seduction. “You’re marrying me, or did you forget already?”
“Today? Is that what you meant before, with the priest?” I gaped in disbelief. My eyes flicked to the mirror above the chest of drawers. “Look at me, I’m a battered, bruised, rotten apple.”
He came to stand in front of me and lowered down to one knee, his hands wrapping around my waist with a softness Iwouldn’t think he was capable of if I didn’t know him almost better than I knew myself.
“You look beautiful, and no amount of cuts or bruises could ever hide it.” The reverence evident in his voice caused emotions to pool in my chest. Damn hormones. I was getting drunk off his delicious scent, willingly falling into the comfort of his words. “We’ll get married, you’ll be an Ashford, and nobody will ever touch you again.”
“Okay,” I breathed, a sense of relief washing over me as his words provided the reassurance I didn’t know I needed.
“Can I help you get dressed?”
“You’re technically not supposed to see me in it, you know,” I remarked softly. “It’s bad luck.”
“We’ll make our own rules, baby.”
Laughter danced in his eyes as he pecked my cheek, then rose to his full height. My chest rose and fell as I watched his strong fingers undress me expertly, then help me slip into my mother’s dress. As he reached for the buttons, I swore his fingers shook, and I flicked him a curious look. Maybe he was having second thoughts.
“Royce,” I whispered, and his eyes met mine. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to regret this.”
