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His own friend, Ares Kourakis, was there as best man. The Greek owed him that much, as Cristiano had once blindly supported him through a similar endeavor. His bodyguard, Luther, was there with his girlfriend, and Marcia was with her husband. Even Clarence Loggia, the manager of the hotel, had brought a date.
But looking down at his bride, Cristiano had eyes only for her. His gaze traced to her full breasts, pushed up against the bodice of the bias-cut satin, and his body stirred. Angry as he was, he still wanted her.
Last night, when she’d demanded he agree to her rules, he’d been astonished. His original prenuptial agreement had been entirely appropriate, standard among the wealthy. He’d assumed Hallie would sign it without demur. Instead, she’d demanded that he add clauses legally forcing him to learn to take care of their child and always come home for dinner. Seriously?
He didn’t necessarily have a problem with either of those things. But he wanted them to be requested, not required. No man wanted to be blackmailed by his own wife the night before the wedding.
And then, as if that weren’t enough, once he’d signed, she’d wanted emotional reassurance that their marriage was a good idea. With the wedding arrangements made and the gold rings bought, she’d wanted him to waste another night rehashing the reasons for their marriage!
Cristiano had seen many last-minute hardball negotiating tactics in the business world. He’d just never expected them from the mother of his child.
Hallie had gotten what she wanted. What more had she hoped to accomplish last night, asking for reassurance? Had she wanted to hear him beg?
Not in this lifetime. Cristiano glowered down at her.
“Then, by the power vested in me by the state of New York, you are now husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,” the retired judge finished happily.
Hallie’s emotionless gaze flashed up to his, the sweep of her dark eyelashes fluttering against her pale cheeks. She was breathing rapidly, and he noted the quick rise and fall of her breasts.
Cristiano was already hard for her. His hands tightened. There would be no more pleading, no more reasoning.
Hallie was his now. Forever.
After a year, his restraint could end. At last, he could claim his prize.
He pulled her into his arms. Lowering his head, he crushed his mouth to hers.
Their lips joined in a flash of heat that ripped through him like a fire. She gasped, then her resistance melted and she kissed him back, matching his desire with her own. As her hands reached up around his shoulders, he heard her bouquet fall to the floor.
The guests applauded and whistled. He took his time, relishing his possession.
When he finally let her go, Hallie’s deep brown eyes were shocked and wide. She looked dizzy as they turned to face the cheers of their friends. Stepping forward, she stumbled and he grabbed her arm to steady her. The truth was, though he was better at hiding it, he felt exactly the same way. He wished they were alone so he could take her straight to bed. As it was, he had to adjust the coat of his morning suit to hide the blatant evidence of his desire.
While they accepted the congratulations of their well-meaning friends, Cristiano hummed with impatience. As they enjoyed lunch in a private room of his hotel’s elegant restaurant, it was all he could do not to tell his friends to get the hell out.
Midway through their friends’ champagne toasts, Cristiano could take it no longer. He cut them off, rising to his feet.
“You’ll have to excuse us,” he said perfunctorily. “My bride is tired, and needs time for a nap before our flight to Rome.”
Everyone looked at Hallie, who appeared astonished.
“Thank you for coming,” Cristiano said firmly. Rising to his feet, he reached his hand out to Hallie. “Please feel free to stay as long as you want and order whatever you like.” He turned to the pregnant bridesmaid, who was holding Jack. The baby was happily smiling and clapping his hands. “Would you mind watching the baby for an hour?”
“Sure,” she said, a glint of wicked amusement in her eyes.
As he pulled his new bride out of the private dining room, he saw the bridesmaids look at each other with a knowing grin, and even Ares Kourakis gave him a smug smile, as if to say, See? It happened to you, too.
Cristiano didn’t give a damn. After all this time, Hallie was his wife. She was his by right.
He intended to make her so—in every way.
“You were rude,” Hallie snapped once they were alone in the elevator. He pushed the button, then turned to her.
“Do you want to go back and make my excuses?” he said in a low voice, running his hand softly over her ivory satin wedding gown, up her arm, to her neck, to her sensitive earlobe and her cheek. He felt her shiver.
“You’re a brute,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he growled. “And now you’re mine.”
