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“You seem pretty laid back. I mean, you agreed to marry a complete stranger.”
He turned to me sharply. “If you want to know why I married you, just ask, Karine.” He laughed, a harsh sound that didn’t match his smile. “I know why you married me, but aren’t you the least bit curious what’s in it for me?”
I felt my face getting hot and I scowled at him. “You don’t know why I agreed to marry you at all,” I said.
The laugh was even harsher this time. “I don’t? How about because you had to.”
There was so much more to it than that, but could he ever understand what absolute loyalty was? “Why did you agree to marry me, then?” I asked.
His face relaxed, and he scooted his chair closer to mine. Leaning over so his lips were only an inch from my ear, he reached up and moved some loose strands of hair that had escaped their updo behind my shoulder. His breath was hot, like the fingers that slid down the side of my throat and followed the low curve of my beaded neckline. I swallowed hard and asked him again, dying for the answer and dreading it at the same time.
“Why?” I asked. It had to be the strangest question for any bride to have to ask, but that was my life.
I felt his mouth curl into a slow smile as he nuzzled my earlobe. “Because you’re the most intoxicating woman I’ve ever seen,” he said in a low growl. “The second I saw you pull up to that restaurant wearing that baby blue top and skin-tight skirt, I was lost. You could have been Feliks’s assistant or trophy wife for all I cared, because I knew I had to have you.” He pulled back with a grin, leaving me shaking. “Imagine when I found out you were his only daughter. What a kick in the balls that was.”
Was he joking? Was it a joke, and I was supposed to laugh? Having his lips teasing my sensitive earlobe robbed me of the ability to do anything but stare at him. I finally forced out a laugh.
“Well, here we are anyway,” I said.
No one had ever affected me this way. Yes, I found it hard to be comfortable around strangers, but I wasn’t an idiot. I could hold a conversation despite being shy. There was something about Roman that ramped everything up to such heights I could barely see straight.
“Yes, baby, here we are.”
I was going to force myself to relax and throw myself into the game, whatever game this was, when Demian strolled over and grabbed my hand. “Let’s dance,” he said, pulling me out of my chair.
I pulled my hand away and swiveled to see Roman’s reaction to this stupid display of Demian’s. All I needed was for my new husband to have a jealous streak. Was I actually hoping he had a jealous streak? He only shrugged, looking mildly amused as he nodded toward the dance floor.
“Go and have a good time,” he said.
I was exhausted and would have declined, but his casual acceptance of being tugged along by another man stung. As Demian swung me around to the fast beat, I realized Roman wasn’t jealous because he didn’t think he had any reason to be. Demian was tall and wiry, preferring running and swimming to any other form of exercise, while Roman was a pure wall of thick, burly muscle. But it wasn’t just that. Confidence radiated off of him while Demian had the sour pout of a disappointed toddler on his face.
For the first time, it was clear to me how very young my best friend seemed compared to Roman, who was all man. Did he see me as silly and childish as I currently viewed Demian? I got a shiver of fear at the thought of being alone with Roman. And sooner than later, since the reception was winding down and people would expect us to be the first to leave.
“Oh my God, I’m so confused,” I muttered, too low for Demian to hear over the loud music. I’d been shivering with anticipation at Roman’s proximity not three minutes ago, and now I was terrified to be alone with him.
“It’s not too late,” Demian said, pulling me much too close for comfort.
Not caring that I danced with him was one thing, but if Roman saw him clinging onto me like that, who knew what could happen. I shoved away midsong, pissed that he couldn’t be the friend I needed right now.
“I’m too tired to dance anymore,” I said. “And it’s time for me to go home soon anyway.”
Demian’s hand snaked out and grabbed mine, keeping me from leaving the dance floor. “Bought and paid for, just like the last shipment we got down at the docks,” he hissed, dropping my hand like it was something dirty.
I sat back down beside Roman, trying not to show how much I was burning up with anger at Demian’s rude crack, and trying more than anything not to believe it was true.
Roman leaned over, putting his hand on my cheek as he nodded toward someone with a camera. “They want pictures,” he said, moving to kiss me.
“Not now,” I said, if nothing more than to prove Demian wrong and that I wasn’t Roman’s property.
His hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, pulling me roughly closer to him. His mouth covered mine, his firm lips hard on mine until his tongue eased between them as he kept a firm grip on my neck.
“Great, perfect,” the photographer called, but it was several more seconds before Roman let me go.
I sat there shaking and trying to catch my breath. My lips tingled, and I could still feel the hot pressure points on my neck where he’d so easily held me. He stood, his teeth clenched as he smiled and announced it was time to get his bride home.
Everyone laughed and cheered, following us out front where our getaway car waited, covered in streamers and soap messages on the windows announcing the happy newlywed couple. Roman’s big hand was around mine as he led me to it and opened the passenger door for me. The sound of the door closing rang out as it doused the sounds of the guests, and I watched Roman jog around the front of the car to join me.
All I could think about was what lay ahead. Was Roman the gentleman that I had hoped he was? I wasn’t so sure anymore. If he’d force a kiss in front of family and friends, what would he do when we were alone together on what he considered his honeymoon night?
