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“I have this.” I hear Cameron’s deep voice, sending a shock wave through my system.
“Violet.” My name out of his mouth sounds like it’s dipped in honey. How I’d like to indulge in that.
“I just need a few minutes,” I murmur.
“Open the door, or I’m breaking it down.”
I believe him, and I scurry to open the door. His eyes widen, and his Adam’s apple bobs. But he masks his reaction quickly.
“You look decent. Good.”
Decent? God, he’s the biggest asshole to have graced this earth.
He steps past me as if my opening the door is an invitation.
“You can’t bail on me. This marriage is happening. Don’t make me look bad. I may be patient, but that ends if you jeopardize my reputation.”
“I...” It’s sheer arrogance for him to think my hesitation has anything to do with him.
“You’re brave for doing this. And this is my promise to you: I will protect you all my life and beyond. You don’t have to be afraid because I’d destroy everything and everyone who’d even think of hurting you. I will not touch you. I will not take something you don’t want to give.”
His words, spoken in that serious tone, put me at ease so fast I feel dizzy.
With emotions tugging at my heartstrings, I find the strength to ask him. “Why would you want someone like me? I mean, I can’t give you... you know...”
“That’s my issue, not yours. Let me be perfectly clear. This marriage serves one purpose: my political career. Be a somewhat functioning person whenever I need you. I assure you, I don’t want you sexually. I’ve never been with a virgin, never wanted to be with one, and it was never in my plan.”
He just obliterated that soft, buttery warmth enveloping my chest, replacing it with a torrent of anger.
“My bad. Here I thought all men love to show things to women.”
“Don’t confuse me with other men. And I thought we were past that.”
“Maybe I’m a traditional woman.”
His eyes darken, thrilling me. “Keep that up and maybe I am going to spank that bratty ass of yours. Then I’ll fuck it and you’ll have to take it like the good traditional woman you are.”
I swallow, shock muting me.
“But again. I don’t want you, little freak. So yes, you’ll be safe from me. Now, don’t test me again.”
I hate how little freak flows from his mouth, doused in derision, yet there’s a soft undertone to it.
He leaves me stewing with all the emotions he ignites in me. I still shoot daggers at his back.
My father appears from around the corner. “Ready?”
I offer a small nod.
No, I am not ready. But I’m going through with it anyway. All the pent-up anger must be short-circuiting my rationality.
The moment I step into the garden, the music softens. I walk down the aisle behind my sister, who’s scattering rose petals down the runner.
I make it past the rows of seated guests, focusing solely on him. His eyes compel me to go to him, assuring me. Why is it so hard to escape his gaze?
Cameron takes my gloved hand in his with a gentleness that caresses every heartstring.
The wedding officiant pronounces us husband and wife, saying, “You may now kiss the bride.”
