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“And you married New England.” She grins. “I hope you like all the lobster that old money can buy. Ooh, especially department store money.Dotry to hook me up with a discount, would you? DeMonte’s has decent tableware.”

I glance over at Daisy, who’s trying to feed Diamond a bite of wedding cake with a fork made from gold plastic.

“I think it can be arranged.”

We raise our drinks – hers pink, mine still fizzy – and toast to whatever comes next. Harvard, probably. After we take on the DeMonte’s when we get back home.

But I’m not thinking about that yet. I’ve got a wedding night to attend to.

Chapter 24

Daisy

The honeymoon suite Lorde booked is perched high above the Strip. The windows overlook the Bellagio fountains, which are mid-performance with Lady Gaga thumping in the background. It’s surreal, hearing it muffled through the glass while I’m standing in a cloud of tulle and borrowed lipstick, married to the woman who pissed me off so badly I had to have her.

Lorde kicks the door shut with a shoe falling off her foot. She drops our overnight bag with flair. "Madam DeMonte-Sheen," she says, offering me her hand like we’re about to ballroom dance. "Shall I carry you across the threshold, or will we both acknowledge I’m not that good?”

I take her hand anyway. "If you try to lift me, you’ll kill yourself and ruin our first night of wedded bliss. Also…” I squeeze her hand. “Didn’t you negotiate with Daddy thatyou’llbe changing your name, Mrs. DeMonte?”

“Whoa. You’re right. Lorde DeMonte. Hell of a fucking name.”

Inside, the suite has a delicate balance between romantic and practical. There's champagne on ice. Chocolate-dipped strawberries. A hot tub the size of my family house. Everything’s bathed in the glow of the Strip’s neon membrane.

The heels are killing me so I kick them off. I’m buzzing from sugar, adrenaline, and the fact that I just went against my family and probably my friends. Because even Ashleigh doesn’t know about this. None of them do.

Lorde loosens her shirt, coming closer. “So, I tried to plan something romantic. You know, candles, rose petals, me dramatically feeding you chocolate until you end up in the ER. But something tells me you have other plans, based on how much time you spent glued to your phone on the way here. Couldn’t even get you to kiss me.”

She could tell? "Oh, I definitely do."

"Should I be afraid?"

"You should be excited." I grab the package someone from the concierge left for us on the big table. My wife (teehee –my wife) was right. Iwasup to something on the way here. You know… arranging a special delivery?

I don’t unwrap it right away. It’s more fun to let her imagination work overtime.

"Tell me that’s not the world’s fanciest toothbrush."

"Nope."

"Is it…"

"A strap-on."

Her mouth actually falls open, which I’m going to keep in my back pocket forever.

She recovers quickly, though, looking at me as if she’s eitherveryexcited about being married to me or about to go grab an annulment. “You brought accessories to your wedding night?”

“I want to remember this as the night I finally fulfilled one of my biggest fantasies with Lorde Sheen.” I spread my hand in front of me as if I’m surveying the entirety of my treetop kingdom. “Whom I’m married to. Didn’t know that would happen first, honestly.”

Her expression changes, humor giving way to lucid seduction that traps me in her warmth. She steps forward, hands gentle but possessive as they land on my waist. "You’ve been full of surprises lately, Daze."

“You haven’t seen anything yet.”

The first kiss is more urgent than I anticipated. I back her up toward the bed, unbuttoning her shirt between kisses, tugging the hem out of her slacks like I’m unwrapping my wedding shower gift.

She groans when I push her down onto the soft duvet. “Is this the part where I’m torn apart and ruined by my blushing bride?”

“Hell yes.”