Page 54 of Endgame
A hateful, money and power-hungry asshole, that’s all he’ll ever be.
I’m not attracted to him. I’m not.
“Speak.”
“I hope—”Ow!He shoves the first inch of the butt plug inside me, that monster. “I hope the bad luck myth of seeing the bridebefore the wedding is true. That it’ll stick with you. That you’ll be cursed until the day you die.”
“Oh, princess, haven’t you noticed?”
The plug is fully inserted. I bite on the inside of my cheek to hide the pain of the stretch. The embarrassment. The moan that threatens to break free.
“Noticed what?” I ask when I can finally breathe.
He lifts me. The collar is around me in a matter of seconds, and no, I most absolutely haven’t missed it. Haven’t needed the reminder that I belong to him.
I don’t want to come from his fingers or the electricity ever again.
“Noticed what, Everett?”
Two fingers clamp onto my chin. My future husband looks me dead in the eye.
“I already am cursed.” His whisper is as lethal as everything about him. “Now, you will be too. For better or worse, you will.”
9
EVERETT
My wedding is a joke. A farce.
But no matter how I feel about the ceremony, I still chose the most exclusive venue for it, the Royalty’s mansion. The perfect backdrop for the show I intend to make of this day, surrounded by the people I hate most.
It’s also the perfect way to solidify this union. If I’d taken Aurora to city hall, people could whisper. Winston could spread the word she was forced.
Here, in front of our so-called friends, in a place that screams wealth—screams that I care about Aurora—it’ll be much harder to refute its legitimacy.
That’s why I didn’t settle for just marrying her here. I hired a wedding planner to drench the space in crimson and black flowers. Antique stone pews were delivered this morning, slender candles flickering between them, casting a golden light that does nothing to soften the hearts of the cruel bastards in the seats.
The Royalty. Their families. All dressed in their finest suits and gowns, watching.
At my side stands Stafford, my best man.
The priest is in attendance as well.
Everyone’s waiting quietly for my bride to walk down the aisle.
My. Bride.
And then there’s me, in a tux, standing at the altar.
Our marriage will be as fake as this ceremony. I know that. Aurora and I are drawn to each other, and we hate each other just as much. The rare moments when our animosity cools are probably just a trick of my imagination.
If I gave her the chance, she’d run as far from me as she could.
But I won’t give her that chance. I won’t let her go.
This is happening.
We’re getting married.
