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“Mr. Shaw, I’m Opal,” the designer greets with a smile and an offered hand as I near them. “I trust you’re well.” Her dark eyes are filled with excitement, only because I told her money is no limit.
“I am. Thank you for making the trip on such short notice. My bride is rather stressed about the wedding, and I’d like to take as much off her plate as possible.” I gesture for her to follow me down to the dining room. With the curtains open, the sunshine streams through, offering a bright space to revel in the elegant gowns. I’ve ensured the staff have moved furniture around for this very reason. The room is large enough for Scarlett to try on the dresses, and the full-length mirror I had brought in from one of the guest rooms is ready and waiting.
“Thank you,” Opal says. “I’ll get ready if you’d like to bring her down.”
Nodding, I make my way up to my fiancée’s bedroom, knowing that this will end up in a fight. Scarlett hasn’t warmed to the idea of marrying me yet, and even though I understand why she needs to submit, or I will be forced to make her bend to my will.
I push open the door to find her at the window seat. Her head snaps toward me, her eyes wide. I take in her outfit, the knee-length white socks hiding her beautiful calves, along with a pair of light blue sleep shorts which tease at a glimpse of her panties underneath.
Her top is floppy, hiding her tits from view, but I know what’s under the material. I’ve glimpsed her bikini photos on social media. When I was doing my research, I made sure to study each and every picture, so I’ll know my bride inside and out.
I raise a hand toward her. “Come.”
Her brows furrow in confusion before she asks, “Where?”
Running my fingers through my hair, I lift my gaze to hers and regard her for a long while. “You’re trying on wedding dresses.”
“No.”
“Scarlett, if you continue acting like this, I can just bind you to the wall and have them dress you while I watch.” The thought of her bound to a St. Andrew’s cross flits through my mind, and I have to stifle the groan of pleasure that rumbles in my chest.
“You’re insufferable.” Her huff is nothing more than a taunting grumble, but the sound of frustration that escapes her lips makes me want nothing more than to bend her over and spank the insolence from her.
“And you’re mine. Now come, I don’t have all day to stand here arguing with you.”
Scarlett rolls her chocolate-brown eyes in annoyance as she pushes off the window seat and pads barefoot toward me. She’s tiny without shoes on, and I can’t help but want to pick her up, haul her over my shoulder, and lock her in my bedroom. But that has to wait for our wedding night.
She follows me down the hallway to the staircase, and we silently make our way into the dining room, where the dresses are now hanging freely. All I see is white lace and satin, along with jeweled tiaras I know will look exquisite on Scarlett.
Only the best for my future wife.
“This is…” Her voice is tinged with awe, her pouty lips parted with shock as she takes in the set up. Her lashes flutter, and those dark-rimmed irises are wide as she looks at every inch of the space before turning her wide gaze to me.
The designer rushes forward with a bright smile on her face. “Welcome, Miss Bardot. I’m Opal. Such a pleasure to meet you. I trust we’ll have something to your liking.” When Opal glances at me, I nod, taking my leave as I pull the doors shut. But before I disappear, I lock my gaze on Scarlett’s and give her a warning glare. Behave.
Back in my office, I’m nervous. I’ve never felt like this before. Usually, I’m calm, relaxed, even when taking down my opposition. But Scarlett does something to me.
She makes me want.
She makes me crave.
She makes me human.
And that can never be a good thing.
18
Scarlett
The first dress didn’t have much material to it, and I have a feeling that Lycan had something to do with that. The second one was pretty, but it wasn’t something I would be caught dead in with the almost nonexistent front and back. My cleavage was prominent, far too exposed if he intends to make me walk into a church.
I grew up in the church, going to catechism, learning passages from the Bible until they were ingrained into my mind, never leaving, and even though I don’t go every Sunday, there is no way I’ll be standing in front of a priest wearing that.
If that’s what Lycan wants, he can find someone else to marry.
