Page 12 of Accidental Groom
I have known it. I was raised on it, bred for it, a lamb to the slaughter, a perfect daughter groomed to smile and seal deals with my presence. If I hadn’t, it would’ve been Sarah up there on that pulpit, and I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself. But knowing and living it are different things.
“There’s one more matter,” Dad says, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. Dread pools in my stomach. “The marriage needs to be legitimate. Consummated, tonight.”
Heat floods my cheeks. I take a step back, but I meet the wall, nearly knocking the wind out of myself. “Excuse me?”
“If there’s any question about validity?—”
“This isn’t the seventeenth century,” I hiss, the words sharp enough that I catch a few stray glances from nearby guests. “What are you expecting? Someone to hold up a lightly bloodied sheet tomorrow morning?”
“Keep your voice down.”
“I think I can decide what happens in my bedroom.”
His jaw tightens. “Can you? Because I think we both know that your judgment isn’t exactly sound.”
Hecannotbe serious.
I showed up.
I talked Harry into this mess.
I walked down the aisle, eyes open, before he could drag Sarah into it like a lamb to the slaughter.
I saidI doto a different man than I thought I would this morning.
I saved his precious deal?—
“Elena.” Harry’s voice cuts through my rising anger, smooth and commanding, appearing beside me and gently dragging his knuckles down my upper arm. I turn to my side, just enough to see his charcoal suit and the flash of silver along his jaw. “Ralph. I hope you’re not troubling my wife.”
My wife.
The words send a shiver down my spine.
Dad’s expression morphs from irritation to courtesy. “Just discussing evening arrangements.”
Harry’s eyes flick between us, hovering longer on my tense muscles, my pursed lips, the anger rippling off me in waves. I don’t bother to hide it, and it’s easy to spot the moment it clicks for him. His jaw ticks, just once, so quick I almost miss it. “I think that’s entirely between Elena and me. Don’t you?”
Despite the intonation, it doesn’t sound like a question at all.
Dad hesitates but nods, curt and tight, and melts back into the crowd behind him. Harry lingers beside me, his presence enough to set me on edge — power seems to leak from him whether he’s grinning at guests or whipping my father into something that resembles a decent dad.
It makes my pulse race in a way that warms my cheeks more than it should.
“You want to go back to your room?” he asks, low enough only I can hear it.
“Think my parents will riot if I leave,” I murmur.
He offers his arm. “Not if I go with you.”
And all I can think about is what he looks like under his suit.
Chapter 5
Elena
Harry’s hand is warm and steady on my elbow.
He guides me toward the private elevator across the hotel lobby, the one reserved specifically for the penthouse.
