Instead, I give into the decadent sensation that is Victor Kade’s strong hands—warm and firm and territorial—on my thighs, my legs wrapped around his waist, and all I can think about is how this man implicitly trusts me.
And he shouldn’t.
Because I've been lying to him for weeks.
"You're thinking too loud," Victor says against my ear as he pushes open his bedroom door with his shoulder.
"I'm not thinking."
"You're absolutely thinking. I can see it on your face."
"Maybe I'm just admiring the view."
"The view is behind you."
"I meant you."
He pauses mid-stride, and I can feel his smile against my neck. "That was smooth."
"I have my moments."
"You have many moments. All of them distracting."
He sets me down just inside his bedroom, and I finally get my first real look at Victor Kade's private space.
It's exactly what I expected—expensive and perfectly curated. A king bed with charcoal gray bedding. Dark wood furniture. Abstract art on the walls that I'm pretty sure is an original Rothko. Seemingly endless glass walls showing the city spread out below us like a glittering map.
And then I see it.
In the corner of the room, stacked in what can only be described as a shrine of shame, is every single piece of gaming wedding memorabilia from the Game Over Chapel.
Pixelated photo frames. Controllers with our names engraved on them. A "Player 1 & Player 2" throw blanket that's actually kind of cute. What appears to be a custom Xbox with our wedding date etched into the side. And—oh my God—is that a life-size cardboard cutout of us from the wedding?
I burst out laughing, and Victor follows my gaze, his handsome, chiseled face reassembling into an expression that’s part embarrassment, part resignation, part something softer.
"I can explain," he rumbles.
"Please do. Because right now it looks like you're running a shrine to our drunken mistake."
"It's not a shrine. It’s—Fuck. The chapel kept sending things. My assistant Gina kept accepting deliveries. I told her to throw it away, but apparently she thought I was being 'sentimental' and stored it all in here."
"In your bedroom."
"I rarely come in here during the day. It seemed like a safe place to hide it."
"From who?"
"From myself. From having to acknowledge that I got married in a video game chapel and now own commemorative Xbox controllers."
I cross to the pile and pick up one of the controllers. Sure enough, it says "Victor 'Ice Prince' Kade - Player 1" in silver etching.
"Ice Prince?" I look at him. "Did you tell them to put that?"
"Absolutely not. They must have googled me."
"And decided to immortalize your nickname on gaming equipment."
"Apparently."
