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“Best go pack,” he said. “And let her know you’re marrying her.”
I went inside and stood in the hall. For the first twenty years of my life, this house had been a cage. A dismal reminder that I’d known nothing but fear and abuse, that I wouldn’t get the love I craved. Here, in this house, I’d learned to pack all my pain and feelings up and squash them down into nothingness.
Into a blur of work, alcohol, and strange people and places.
It didn’t have to be that way anymore. Even when we were enemies, Iris had always softened as soon as I opened up to her. She was beautiful and empathetic and funny and perfect.
And I loved her.
If I let her walk away, it would be the biggest mistake of my life. The problem was, I wasn’t sure if she was ready to get married tonight. In fact, I was pretty confident she wasn’t. So that left me with two options.
I could give everything up and send her home.
Or I couldtellher she was marrying me.
I stared up at the ceiling, mulling it over. The second one sounded a lot better than the first.
Marrying her sounded like everything I’d ever wanted.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
IRIS
“What?” I asked.
It was seven at night. We’d had a pheasant dinner and ice cream for dessert. Lucien and Olivia were downstairs in the living room. Probably sitting a proper few feet apart on the couch in silence. Duran and I were upstairs, getting ready for bed.
I was standing in the shower, sopping wet and patting my hair with a towel, and he was by the sink, fully dressed.
“I said, put on something slutty because we’re going out to get wasted and married,” he said.
My heart thumped in my ears. I reached up to wipe my wet hair from my face. His brows shot up.
“That was supposed to come out more…romantic,” he said.
“You want to marry me?” I whispered.
“Fuck, yes,” he said, a flush appearing at his collarbone. “I want to fuck that pussy forever. I feel like I’ve made that pretty clear over the last few weeks.”
“So…can we just do a normal wedding?”
We both froze. Had I just said that? Then the slowest smile curled over his mouth and a wave of pure euphoria rushed through me. I wanted this—I had no idea how long I’d wanted this, but I wanted it so much that I couldn’t fathom having any other response.
“You…you want to marry me?”
“I mean…yeah, I guess I do,” I said, flustered. “I’m just wondering why we can’t just go get married at a church?”
He explained his plan and I dried off and put on a skimpy pair of lingerie. It made sense when he laid it all out like that. Did it sound like it would work? I wasn’t really sure and that made me anxious.
“You said Romano tortured Lucien,” I said. “What will he do to you?”
Duran’s mouth thinned. “I’m the spare, so he might be angry, but he won’t be livid. Romano has always had a strange obsession with controlling Lucien. I think he’s kind of…everything Romano has always wanted to be and that pisses him off. People couldn’t give two shits about Romano personally, but despite being a bit of a dick, everyone likes Lucien.”
“I don’t get that,” I admitted.
“On the outside he’s a cold motherfucker,” Duran said. “But if you’re on his good side, he’ll always come through for you.”
I wasn’t sure what to think. The last few days were a whirlwind and suddenly I was facing a drunk wedding with a man I’d met days ago. Stunned, I moved into the bedroom and began numbly searching through my clothes for something suitable.
