Page 12 of His Bride


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“I know, Mom. I almost can’t believe it myself. I thought for sure she’d try to leave or make some kind of scene. I still want to know what she said to Finn. He was such a dick when we were kids. It blows my mind that he’s a priest now.

“I’m happy for you, son. Fiona and I think you two should stay at a hotel. I took the liberty of booking you the Presidential Suite at the Boston Tea Hotel.” That’s a fifteen thousand dollar-a-night room. I would never spend that much money on a hotel room, but it is a lovely gift.

“Really?”

“Yes. It’s your wedding night. You should be alone with her.”

“We also set up a dinner at Loki Jorgensen’s new restaurant, Valhalla, for the ten of us in about thirty-five minutes. Then you can check in at the hotel.”

“Thank you, mom.” I hug her and kiss her on the cheek.

“She’ll love it.”

“It’s not too much?”

“No. She’s your queen now. Treat her like it, or I won’t hesitate to kick your ass up and down the eastern seaboard.”

“Of course, you’re right.” I have no doubt she’d fucking do it too.

“I’m always right. All right, everyone. Back to the car, we have a dinner reservation.”

Matilde tries to walk out with Cashel, but I stop her, grabbing her hand and pulling her back to me. I wait until everyone else is ahead of us.

“What?” she asks, annoyed. I bite back a smile.

“My mother and Fiona got us a hotel reservation for the evening. We will take an Uber there after dinner.”

“That’s acceptable,” she says, shivering. She’s not unaffected by me. I wish she’d just fucking admit it. I lean down and lick her neck. It’s already full of my marks; I want to cover every inch of her in them.

“It’ll be more than acceptable, wife. Remember our agreement,” I murmur, feeling like a dick, but I can’t help it. I’m so close to sinking my aching cock into her that I can almost taste her. She has no idea what she does to me, or else she wouldn’t be denying me like this. Denying us.

“As if I could forget it,husband,” she says sarcastically. “I have a feeling that I will never forget it.” I chuckle as we walk back out to the car.

We manage to make it through dinner, where my family gives us gifts. Things like a coffee pot and a Limoge gravy boat. I wasn’t expecting gifts given the quickness the wedding took place. Matilde was surprised too. We are lingering over the cake, which Cashel somehow managed to get here when another large party passes our table on their way out of the restaurant.

“Fatty Matty?” a tall, bitchy woman cries, coming closer to our table. I feel Matilde stiffen beside me. Fatty Matty? What a terrible nickname.

“Hello, Chrissy. How are you?” my girl asks graciously. I look around the table. Cashel wants to kill this bitch. Even the A’s look murderous.

“Good, good. What are you doing in Boston? It’s been what? Five years since high school? What are you up to? Are you sure you want to be shot gunning that cake like that?” Fuck this bitch; I’ve had enough.

“This is a private party. You should go. My wife and I are just about to leave.” I grab Matilde’s hand. The woman’s eyes widen.

“Fatty Matty got married?”

“Hey! Who do you think you are, lady?” Declan says.

“It’s okay. Dec,” Matilde says, shaking her head.

“No it’s not. Doesn’t she know who you are?”

“Oh, I know her kid,” the woman says, and Declan shoots daggers at her.

“Yes, she did. This is my husband, Dorian O’Shaughnessy; perhaps you’ve heard of him?” The woman takes a giant step back, running into a waiter holding a tray of dirty dishes. A bowl of what looks like partially eaten tomato soup lands on her white blouse.

“Well, I should be going. Congrats.” She scurries away to her party, who just stares at us.

Matilde looks mortified. Her face is red as hell. I don’t let go of her hand, even when she tries to pull away from me.

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