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‘What do you mean?’
‘Do I go home? Do I live with you? Do we just ignore one another until one of us dies?’
‘Is that a threat?’ I tensed my jaw.
‘I’m not going to promise that it’s not.’
‘During the week, we will stay with Father at the mansion in Glasgow. On weekends, I go home to my penthouse in Edinburgh. You can join me or stay with Katie and Father. I don’t care either way. He insists we live as a married couple, however.’
Maeve narrowed her eyes, her hand stilling against the tablecloth. ‘As a married couple, how?’
‘In his home, we will be expected to share a room. I’ve prepared a room in my place for you to have to yourself. I don’t intend to spend any more time with you than I have to.’
‘Scared of me?’
‘Disgusted. Repulsed. Annoyed. Not so scared.’ I took another large gulp of whisky, feeling its warmth spread through me. Getting drunk was a poor plan, but I needed something to take the edge off. I was cornered and had no escape. She’d be at home. She’d be unavoidable.
She scoffed and ate a piece of the now desecrated cheesecake.
‘First, we have to go on honeymoon.’
Maeve blinked at me. ‘I’m not going on a honeymoon with you.’
‘You can tell my father that. I tried.’
As one whisky turned to four or five, I found my eyes drawn to Maeve more than I’d like. Fuck, that dress was insane. It exposed her back almost to her ass and I couldn’t help but wonder how soft the displayed skin would feel.
I pulled my eyes from her back, and onto the dance floor, which had filled before us. I’d chosen to forego the first dance too, yet a brief part of me imagined what it would be like to dance with Maeve, to feel her against me while I traced the outline of her back.
Quit it Cam.
The alcohol was clouding my judgement. I had no doubt about it.
The evening headed into night, and before we knew it, we were being escorted to the bridal suite. The suite was enormous and decadent, with a sunken-floored bath big enough for multiple people and a bed to rival it. From where I stood, I could see that the bathroom sparkled with dark marble, and the view over the city almost rivalled mine from my penthouse.
A bottle of champagne sat in an ice bucket beside two glasses and a plate heaped with chocolate-covered strawberries. They were the last thing anyone wanted after a night of drinking. I drank so rarely I didn’t crave takeout often, but a pepperoni pizza wouldn’t have gone amiss.
‘At least the bed’s big enough that we can avoid one another.’ Maeve said, moving over to where her cases had been left by the staff and rummaging around inside.
‘It’s fine, I’ll take the couch.’ I threw my tux jacket and waistcoat over the back of a chair and sat down heavily. The room lurched, and I blinked through the fuzz.
After twenty minutes or so, Maeve poked her head out of the bathroom. ‘I really don’t want to ask you to do this, but I cannot get the lower stays undone on my dress. Could you take a look for me?’
Fucking hell, did she think I was going to act like her actual husband?
‘Please? I really don’t want to sleep in it.’
She came over and stood in front of me, her ass at face height. I swallowed as I reached out to unfasten the ties. The knot was stuck fast. Or maybe it was because I was tipsy and thinking primarily with my quickly awakening dick with her perfect ass at mouth level.
‘It’s stuck. I’m going to have to cut it free.’
‘You can’t cut it! This is a twenty-five thousand pound dress.’ She looked back at me over her shoulder and it sent a shiver through me. Looking up at her like that with my mouth on her would be a treat indeed.
‘It’s not like you are going to wear it again.’ I slid a flick knife from my pocket and pressed the dull edge against her spine, angled down toward her ass.
Maeve let out a squeak as the cold metal touched her. I took my time inching the blade down under the white ribbons, which held the dress together internally until they gave way and spilt. The dress gaped apart, revealing the top of a black g-string.
Fuck.
