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We left the building and traipsed down a flight of stairs. There was a platform below where we were meant to stop and receive the guests, along with their felicitations and handshakes, their stares and curiosity. But the butcher never stopped moving. I nearly tripped as we started down the second set of stairs, but my husband reached out with his opposite hand and held me tight. My nonverbal protest was swallowed in the suddenness of our continued descent.
A pair of heels clattered down the steps behind me. “Everything’s ready, Con.”
It was the sister. She brushed past us and swept into the open door of a limousine.
“This isn’t the scheduled series of events,” I protested.
The butcher cut me a sideways look. “I didn’t like your schedule, bride.”
“Drakos!” my father shouted from the church doors. “What is the meaning of this?”
Between balancing the damned flowers, the skirt of my dress, and the awkward hold on my husband, I couldn’t pull away. The butcher never stopped moving us to the vehicle.
“I have plans for my bride, Beaumont,” he calmly said over his shoulder.
The guests were filing out of the church. Their murmurs and soft hoots chased me.
I felt my cheeks reddening under the makeup, and I tried to pull on the butcher’s arm. “Stop! You’ll make a scene.”
We were off the accursed stairs, but I couldn’t brace against the forward momentum. We sailed to the car, and his sister ripped the bouquet from my hand, tossing it back to the church steps.
“Hey!” I snapped.
“We’ll find you some new flowers when we get where we’re going.” She met my eyes with a measured gaze. “Get in. Plane’s waiting.”
“Plane!” I hissed, rounding on the butcher. I gripped his suit jacket. “We have a reception to attend!”
It was the sister who answered. “A forced party on your father’s dime and being expected to parade around? Yeah, that’s not happening.”
My husband was patiently waiting, not forcing me, but also not giving me the room to escape. His body loomed over me, caging me into the limo’s door. His commanding presence was distracting, my body coming alive at his display of dominance.
“Everyone’s watching.” His voice was low, almost a damn caress. “Get in the car or go back to your father. My lawyer has annulment papers waiting up there if you do.”
I huffed, all the breath leaving my body in a whoosh. This wasn’t possible. Rage shook my body. How could he upend everything like this? The butcher was purposely pushing my buttons.Get in control.
One look at my father with his face plum red, and I slipped into the car. It wasn’t even a conscious decision; my body did it naturally. I could still carry out the plan. It didn’t matter.I can do this. It’s what I was trained to do.
“Bon voyage, in-laws! We have a honeymoon to get to!” the sister called, slamming the door behind me.
The butcher rounded the car and ripped his door open, sliding into the car a moment later.
“This is unacceptable!” I seethed.
He held up his hand. “Please, Talia. I’m begging you, not right now.”
The tightness in his voice stopped me. I slammed back into my seat, sulking. It was what an upset bride would do. The sister was busy tapping on her phone, a smirk playing on her lips. The butcher stared out the window the entire drive. I took the time to study him. Dark hair, a hard body built with lean muscle, and a cruel mouth. Soon, I would have to let him coil against me, our naked flesh melded together.
I didn’t intend to strike tonight; I knew I had to sell him my body first. But as the limo drove onto an airstrip, my stomach lurched with a fresh wave of anxiety.
What if he comes to me first?I hid the shudder. I would have to be ready to accept him.
“Where are we going?” I demanded.
The car stopped, and the butcher left without so much as a look in my direction.
“There are clothes in your cabin. Do you need help changing your dress?” The sister was looking at me, blue eyes searching my face.
“I don’t have any clothes,” I ground out.
