Page 34 of The Ties That Bind (Fraser Crime Syndicate 2)

We make our way to the back stairs that lead to the rooms. Ford goes first, ready to stand between us and danger. He’s one of the few people I trust. He’s been with me for a long time and proven himself.

Elena struggles with the ridiculous skirts of her dress. I help her, lifting the back so she can navigate the steps. “Your mother hates me, doesn’t she?” she complains. “There’s no other reason for her to put me in this thing.”

“Charlotte hates everyone. Don’t take it personally.”

We get to the room and Ford checks it’s safe before he lets us inside. “I’ll be outside,” Ford tells me.

I shut the door on him, and when I turn back to the room, Elena is moving around it, checking everything out. The room is beautiful, but not comfortable. Dark carpets, stylish furniture, and a huge four-poster bed. It’s modern, sleek—much like my home. Elena won’t like it.

Her mind is clearly on other things when she turns to face me. Her dress has a sweeping neckline that shows the tops of her breasts, which are heaving in time with her unsteady breathing.

“What now?”

It’s a loaded question. I don’t want to reject her, but I don’t want to push her to do something she doesn’t want to do either.

“What do you want to do now?”

“Sleep. Talk. I don’t know.”

“Why don’t we start with a drink?” I go to the sideboard where there’s a bottle of champagne and two glasses. I open the bottle, the cork popping as I do. I pour two glasses, taking one over to where she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, surrounded by lace and skirts. The dress really is hideous. My mother is a cunt for putting Elena in this.

I hand my new wife her drink and watch as she takes a long drink of it. “So, this is weird, right?” she says after a moment.

“It doesn’t have to be.”

She stares at the wedding band on her finger, pushed against the diamond engagement ring I’d given her just a few short weeks ago. It feels like another lifetime.

“I have no idea how to be wife.”

“I have no idea how to be a husband.”

“I’m scared.” Sariah’s words play through my head. She told me my new wife would be afraid.

“Of me?”

“Yes.” The admission is given softly. “You have a… reputation.”

I do. Not a good one either. I’ve never cared what people think of me, not until this moment. I suddenly want her to like me.

“You have nothing to fear,” I tell her, meaning every word of it. I will never touch her in anger.

“I don’t?” There’s a hint of challenge in her words.

“I’m not a man who gets off on hurting women.”

“But you hurt men.”

“I hurt people in the life who are a danger to my operations or to my family. Absolutely. I will never apologise for protecting the people I care about.”

“I would do the same, so I can’t hold that against you.” She blows out a breath. “What do we do now?”

“Whatever you want.”

“What I want is to get out of this dress and put something a little more comfortable on.”

“Then get changed.”

She hands me the wine glass, which I place on the bedside table. “You’re going to have to help me. I can’t… the buttons…” Her face heats.

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