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1
LUKE
“Are you certain this is the best course of action?” Clayton cracks his knuckles.
I adjust my tie and smooth a hand through my hair. “For me? Yes.”
“You don’t know her.”
I meet his gaze in the mirror.
“You don’treallyknow her,” he amends. “Stalking her from a distance is different than being married to her.”
“Did her father accept the payment?” I ask.
“Of course.” He sighs. “He jumped on the offer. Her mother did, too. They’re both in Cabo right now, noses full of coke and flashing their money around.”
I nod. “Good. I didn’t want them here for the wedding, but I would have allowed it if my bride insisted.”
“Your bride.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, the skull tattoo on the back of his hand on display. “This girl, Luke. This girl is trouble.”
“I know.” I ensure everything is perfect, then turn to my best man. “She’s a handful. She’s got a mind of her own. And she certainly doesn’t want to be my wife. But what she wants and what she needs are two different things.”
“You certain you’re ready for this?” He takes a deep breath as I knock the dust off his shoulder.
“I saw her. I knew.” I shrug. “The more I saw, the more I liked. She’s here, and she isn’t going anywhere.”
“How do you intend to get her to say her vows?”
“I’m glad you asked.” I whistle.
Gray walks in, a soft black animal crate in his hand.
“Don’t tell me that’s—”
“Her cat, yes.”
“That cat is almost as much of a monster as its owner.” Clayton scowls at the green eyes peering out at us. “It scratched the shit out of me that time you had me break into her house and deliver vase after vase of flowers that she promptly dumped out the back when she got home. And she didn’t stop there. She borrowed lighter fluid from her neighbor, soaked the flowers in it, then lit a match. That bi—”
I whirl on him, thunder rolling inside me at his near-insult to my bride.
He holds a hand up. “I apologize. Slip of the tongue.”
“I know you have objections.” I take a deep, calming breath. “I understand you have my best interests at heart, but Cassandra will be my wife. Nothing is going to change that fact. Not her reticence or your worry.”
“I know.” He glances at the cat. “But we don’t have to take the cat, right? I mean, it won’t be living with us at the estate, will it?”
I lean down and peer at the gray, fluffy ball of hate. “She’s temperamental, but she’s here to serve a purpose.”
She hisses at me, her fangs bared. Just like her owner. But what neither she nor my intended understand is that these shows of defiance only cause me to embed my claws deeper, to clutch what I want closer, to cage them and pet and stroke them until they love me. Because all they see is me. All they know is me. And this is how I will own their hearts.
“Can I at least be the one who threatens the cat?” Clayton asks hopefully.
“Of course. You’re my best man, after all.”
He rolls his shoulders and straightens his tux. “Good.”
“I’m ready.” I turn toward the door.
