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Rick scoffs. I take the bottle of vodka from him, take a long drink from it, and another, and another. By the time I plant the bottle on the countertop, my entire body is numb. Everything except my heart, that is. The fucker’s been in a state since I slipped a ring onto her finger, then signed the paperwork at Town Hall, before turning away without a kiss.
Y-e-p, not only did I not kiss her, but I also haven’t spoken a word with her since the event. Not when our friends crowded around us and congratulated us. Not when Abby glared at me and hissed that she’d kill me if I didn’t treat her friend the way she deserved. Not when Cade gave me a funny look, or when Phillipe and JJ paused their conversation long enough to glare at me at lunch. Not when Sinclair pulled me aside and told me I’d better not fuck this up. Not when I went to the gents, and Michael hauled me forward before I finished pissing and threatened me with a fate worse than death if I didn’t get my shit together. I zipped myself up, pulled away, and walked out of there. I didn’t return to the lunch organized in honor of our wedding. I headed to the 7A Club and wasn't surprised when Rick and Finn showed up shortly after. They told me the only reason the other men hadn’t come was because they’d managed to persuade them that the two of them would be enough to knock some sense into me.
Ha. Little do they know, that ship has sailed—since they tortured and killed my teammates, then abused me and left me to die, buried under six feet of mud and snow in the Tundra. If it hadn’t been for Adam, I’d never have made it out alive.
If it hadn’t been for Adam, I wouldn’t have married her, either.
Fucking Adam, who said he couldn’t attend the wedding of his best mate because he was too busy helping another veteran deal with the aftermath of a mission gone wrong. Fucking do-gooder, couldn’t put a step wrong if he tried. And now, when I need him most, where the fuck is he?I slide off the bar stool and sway.
"Whoa, ol’ chap." Rick grips my shoulder.
I shake him off. "I’m good." The words come out sounding likeIhhhmm goose.
"And I’m the gander." Finn grabs my arm.
I try to push him away, but motherfucker is one strong son of a bitch. He hooks his shoulder under my armpit, then nods in Rick’s direction. "Got him?"
48
Penny
"Good thing we got him before he got completely sozzled," Rick murmurs. He has an apologetic look on his face as he and Finn half-carry half-drag my husband—my very drunk, barely conscious husband, who mutters under his breath as they heave him up the steps and toward his bedroom. Yes, it’shisbedroom because the wankhole fucked off halfway through our lunch and left me alone with the expressions of concern on his sister’s and my friends’ faces. Not to mention, the angry looks his mates sported as they’d conferred with each other before Finn and Rick headed off in his wake.
To the credit of those left behind, they banded around me with Abby apologizing on Sir’s behalf—and why am I calling him Sir?—he’s not my Sir anymore. If he were, he wouldn’t have left me on my own, a scant half an hour after our wedding. He didn't looked at me as we exchanged vows. Not when he slid the band on my finger next to my engagement ring. Not when he sat next to me at lunch. He didn’t kiss me, didn’t touch me. It was as if I were an object—a possession he lost interest in the moment he had me.
He had more affection for Tiny, who’d been our ring-bearer. Something I’d trained him for in the last week—the canine was so much smarter than his temporary master. And honestly, it’s good that Knight is only dog-sitting because Tiny deserves better. I deserve better. The only time Knight seemed to show any emotions was when Tiny made a dash for the champagne. At which point, he pulled on the leash and snapped at Tiny to ‘sit.' The dog obeyed—reluctantly.
And I, who was standing, planted my butt in the seat—much to my mortification. I glanced about, but no one seemed to notice. Thank god. Although, of course, they’d have attributed my flushed features to the excitement from the wedding. I wish I could tell Mira the entire ceremony was make-believe, but given she can be as filterless as me, I’m not sure that's wise.
And so what, if this entire sham of a wedding was fake? I’ve seen whores in movies treated better than the way my husband behaved toward me. I was so pissed off with him, enough to want to throw my champagne in his face instead of drink it—which would have been a pity. They were good bubbles. So instead, after the staff at the restaurant where the reception lunch was held had poured it, and after Rick and Mira each made their speeches, when it came time for the groom to say a few words, and after my husband declined to do so, I brought the flute to my lips and began to drink, when he stopped me.
His touch had sent a shudder through me, and the glass slipped from my hand. He caught it—his reflexes weren’t affected by whatever ordeal he went through, apparently. He caught the glass, placed it on the table, then pushed the glass of water in my direction. Good thing no one saw it because it could have raised speculation. I scowled at him, but he turned away to talk with Rick.
I reached for the flute of champagne again and hesitated. I don’t think I'm pregnant. But then, I don’t know how it feels to be pregnant. So, I touched the glass of bubbles, then reached for the glass of water, instead. I glanced sideways in time to see his shoulders relax. So, he wasn’t completely impervious to my presence. Which only made it worse.
He must have known how horrible I was feeling right then. He must have realized what a humiliating position he was placing me in. After that embarrassing silence, when he’d refused to say anything, the food was served. And though Mira and Abby watched me with concern, and Giorgina glared at my husband, the rest of the meal proceeded without incident—that is, until he left. He left me, hisbride, at our wedding luncheon, oh, god, I’ll never live this down.
Abby, Mira, and Solene insisted on accompanying me home. And when Giorgina invited herself and Rachel along, I didn’t have the energy to say no. In a way, it's good the girls came over. They took my mind off the shitty behavior of my husband. I'll bet, if it had been a working day, he’d have headed to the office after. And I’d have gone along with him and taken my place at my desk as his assistant, and gotten on with my day because, clearly, I’ve totally lost my spine.
Why is it that he seems to hold all the cards here? Why is it that, because he has the money, he can do as he pleases and control my future? But if I’m being honest, it's not the money. I don't care about that. On the other hand, his magic cock, and his fingers, and his tongue have a way with my body. The pleasure he elicited from me makes my body quiver. He controls my body’s responses, and I hate him for that as much as for making me so dependent on him.
I managed to keep a leash on my thoughts for as long as the women stayed. Mira wanted to spend the night, but I wouldn’t listen to that. I was grateful for their company, but it's my wedding night, and I'll be damned if I'm going to spend it with my friends. I stayed off the alcohol, too, by nursing the same glass of wine throughout the evening. If my friend’s noticed, and I know at least Mira and Giorgina did, they didn’t give me grief about it. The result was, by the time I shooed Mira out the door, I was stone cold sober.
I didn’t change out of my wedding dress, either, so now, as I follow Rick and Finn as they carry Knight into the bedroom, I have to hold the skirt out of the way. They ease him onto the bed, and Rick goes so far as to slip off his shoes. Finn throws the cover over him. They straighten and turn to me, and then, to my surprise, Finn comes up and hugs me.
He wraps his muscled hockey-player’s arms about me and tucks my head under his chin. "I’m so sorry, beautiful. This man doesn’t deserve you."
"He bloody well doesn’t," Rick growls, then pats my back.
It’s like being wrapped in comfort. I don’t have brothers, but if I did, I imagine it’d feel like this. Safe, secure, and for a second, my worries recede. I sniffle, and Finn strokes my hair. "There, there, it’ll all be okay, I promise."
I half laugh. "You sound very confident."
"Your husband’s an asshole, but sadly, he’sourasshole, and while I’m not sure if he’ll sort out whatever it is that’s bothering him in the short term, I know it’s only a matter of time before he puts things in order and makes it up to you," he murmurs.
I pull back, and he releases me.
"Somehow, I’m not so sure."
