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“I know.” I flick my hand at his knife. “No need for bloodshed.”
He stows it, but his countenance is stormy.
Regret filters through me. It seems I can’t think straight when it comes to Cassandra. That’s been true since that first night I arrived to discuss the diamond business with her father. And it’s still the case today. “I’m sorry, old friend.” I truly am. “Perhaps wedding day jitters are real after all.”
His eyes open a little wider. I suppose it’s not often that I apologize.
He shrugs it off. “I understand.” Then he hesitates. “I mean, I don’t understand, and I never have, but maybe this sort of thing is just something you have to feel?”
“One day, Clayton, you’ll get the same feeling.”
“With the amount of trouble your bride’s been—and I can assure you isgoingto be—I hope that day is far off.” He finally smiles.
I match it. “She’s made for me. You’ll see.”
“I trust you.” He doesn’t sound too certain, but it doesn’t matter.
My heart recognized her, and that was that.
A commotion at the back has Clayton on alert, but I hold him back. “It’s her. Relax.”
He rolls his shoulders. “Fine.”
No music, no guests, nothing except the bare necessities for this affair. After all, she’s about to be one of the richest women in the world. I can’t have someone trying to kill me and take her, can I? No, it’s better for us to be together with only my trusted associates.
Javier opens the creaky door to the vestibule, then turns and gives me a curt nod. “She’s ready.”
My heart seems to swell as I take a deep breath and stare at the rough wooden doors.
“Nervous?” Clayton switches into best-man mode with surprising ease.
“Not a bit.” I want this. Just like I’ve known my whole life when I wanted something, I know that I was made for this woman. She’s young, and rash, and possibly violent, but all of that only makes me want to tame her, to make her my darling one with claws that scratch anyone who dares cross us.
When she steps through, I can’t even find the words. She wears her favorite gown as if the designer had her in mind when she created it. A plunging neckline, tight bodice, and dramatic skirt. My Cassandra would shine in burlap, but this gown,thisgown—it was made for her.
She stomps down the aisle in adorable fashion, coming at me like a hurricane. The ire in each step goes straight to my cock, and I’m hard and ready for her, wanting her to work out every bit of aggression as I fuck her raw. Oh, how my darling will scratch and bite when I make her come.
“Here I am.” She holds her hands out to her sides in a ‘look at me’ pose, then thumbs her nose at the priest. “Let’s get this unholy matrimony on the road.”
Her blue eyes are brilliant, her skin luminous, the Cupid’s bow of her pout perfect. She is a furious beauty. My opposite, yet also my match.
“I’m serious.” She puts one hand on her hip. “I want this over with. This guy is my husband, okay?” Then with an overdone curtsy, she says, “I do.”
“I haven’t, ah … I haven’t said the—”
“It’s all right, Father. You may proceed.” I take her arm and pull her to my side as she fumes. Pressing my lips to her ear, I remind her, “Ms. Kittles wouldn’t appreciate your little performance. I’d hate for her to get declawed. I hear that cruel practice is rather painful and quite permanent.”
She gasps. “You wouldn’t dare.”
I stare her down with the same cold calculation that runs in my family. “Oh, but I would.” No, I wouldn’t, simply because it would hurt my Cassandra, but sometimes a strong hand is needed to keep a wild one like her in check. I’ll give her plenty of leash once the ceremony is over, once she’s truly mine.
The priest drones on, the words rote, as my vixen fidgets but behaves for the most part. I keep her hand in mine, feeling the softness of her.
When she comes to her vows, she stubbornly presses her lips together.
“Come now, don’t be foolish,” I coax as Clayton shows her live video of Ms. Kittles.
She wrinkles her nose, but submits. “Fine. I’ll marry you under protest.”
