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In the past couple of years when Jackson had evaded all talk of their wedding with such skilled precision, she hadn’t imagined she would ever have a wedding, much less a wedding night.
So with everything that had gone sideways in her life, the fact that she was drunk was the least disconcerting thing about the night.
Not that she had planned it that way.
She had signed the agreement as he wanted her to. She had smiled and gushed like a woman in love so much that her jaw had begun to hurt. She had tried not to flinch and betray the trembling need she felt when he touched his soft, hot mouth to hers.
Not once during the day had she behaved in a wifely manner whatsoever.
So she had no idea what it was that had turned Stefan more and more distant and forbidding. Unless, it was the very sight of her wearing his ring.
With him radiating an icy scorn from every pore at her side wherever she turned or whoever she looked at all evening, she had drunk her first glass of champagne without getting any food first.
Of course, she had devoured her cake—which sadly was the high point of her wedding day, but by then she had already had a buzz. Which made it all too easy to reach for the second one.
It had made her unafraid, as she had been a long time ago.
Unafraid, uncaring and free.
And because she had loved being that old Clio again, even if it was the alcohol, she had drunk two more glasses. Even the thought of a head-splitting migraine that was sure to arrive first thing tomorrow hadn’t stopped her.
She had thoroughly enjoyed dancing with Rocco and Christian, and Zayed flirting with her. He had done it out of pity because her very real husband couldn’t even fake a smile, much less pretend to be besotted. Still, she had enjoyed it.
The most disturbing thing about the night, however, was the solid hard muscular chest that she was cradled against with utmost care right now. The scent of his aftershave—lime—teased her nostrils.
But she didn’t want to be held like that, she didn’t want him to suffer her company as if he was cursed to do it.
Just then, the elevator rocked.
Giving up any effort at a pretense, Clio sighed and clutched him tighter.
Then she felt it more than heard it—the choked-up, almost suppressed laugh that had his chest rumbling beneath her arms. Cracking her eyes open, Clio dared a look at him.
He was laughing.
The beast who had glared at her all evening, who had looked at her as if she was the most untrustworthy woman on the entire planet, no the universe, who had driven her to drink when she generally couldn’t stand alcohol, was laughing.
Granted, to see that sensuous, cutting-grooves-in-his-cheeks smile was almost worth any price.
Thrusting her hands under the collar of his dress shirt, Clio tucked his chin up until he was staring into her eyes. “What the hell are you laughing about?”
“You, bella,” he replied.
“What about me?”
“A Victorian virgin aboard a pirate ship that was about to be ravished?”
Heat swarmed her face. God, she had said that out loud?
“I’m drunk,” she drawled, loving the thump-thump of his heart beneath her ears. He was so solid and warm around her that perversely, she felt safe around him. “Anything I say tonight should be disregarded,” she retorted. “And I’m no Victorian virgin that needs to be ravished or for that matter saved.”
“Seeing that I’m not the saving-hero kind, that’s good.” The elevator doors swished open. And he stepped out. “It’s almost scary how perfect we are for each other.”
“‘College Sweethearts Who Found Their Way to Each Other After So Many Years’?” she said, quoting the headlines about them. “‘Destiny Brings Old Lovers Together Again!’ ‘True Love Conquers All.’ I wouldn’t have wanted a better tagline for Jackson to look at every time he turned his head.”
Instantly, the smile slid off his mouth as if she had poisoned the very air around them. There was such a bright ire in his gaze that Clio wondered for a second if he would let her fall to the floor.
But, of course, he didn’t.
Stefan would never cause her harm, she knew that. Just as he would never trust her any more than a strange woman he picked up in a club or a party or wherever he picked up women from.
She had thought she had accepted it, but it was beginning to matter more than it should. Even if she had fallen on her face these past few years, didn’t he know what kind of a person she was?
He crossed the cavernous lounge and carried her into one of the bedrooms at the back.
