Page 10

Y ou got help now, boyo.

It was just perfect timing that my sister came to me with her not so ethical plan to get me hitched to the Volkov brat.

Fuck .

That was unkind.

Michaela did nothing to deserve any of this except get mixed up in a shitty situation my sister exploited for our benefit.

Speaking of which, I grabbed my phone and sent a text to my own head of security to dig up whatever he could about that whole situation.

Whatever happened before, Michaela was my wife now, and anyone who threatened her would not live to see another sunrise.

I turned my head and rubbed a hand over my face, tugging my lower lip between my fingers.

Her father was going to blow his fucking top.

I knew Adrik Volkov. The only way to get him to accept this little charade was if we made it look real. And to do that, we had to make our marriage real.

We had to present a united front. Start a real relationship. We had to look married.

Sex.

We had to have sex.

My cock stirred, and I gritted my teeth. It wouldn’t be a hardship.

Michaela was gorgeous. Her pale skin was smooth and clear. She had a thick wealth of chestnut brown hair and eyes the color of midnight, fringed by thick, dark lashes.

Her body was soft and round in all the right places. She was about eight inches shorter than me, but I liked the fact I was bigger than her.

She probably thought she weighed too much, most women did. But I was a big guy, and she would fit my body perfectly.

I bit back a groan just thinking about burying my face between those thick, pale legs.

You’re a sick fuck, Liam O’Doyle.

Then there was her mouth. Her lips were naturally pink and plump, pouty and oh-so-tempting.

I wondered if what Maggie had on her was enough to convince her to make this a real marriage?

I turned my head, biting back my groan. It had been a while since I had time for a woman in my life. Almost a year since I felt the desire to bury my cock in one.

Dating apps were all the rage, but that was off the table for a guy like me. Was a time I could just walk into a bar or restaurant and find a girl to take home, but the pandemic made everyone weird and swipe right to fuck?

No thanks.

I preferred to meet face to face before I took someone to bed.

Not that I would take anyone to bed beside my pretty wife now.

I might be a lax Catholic, but I was raised with certain beliefs, even if my father flouted them.

But I really did not believe in cheating.

A commitment was a commitment, and unconventional marriage or not, I was fucking committed to this thing.

The reasons didn’t matter. What mattered was I would never worry about not having a woman again.

Cause you have Michaela now, don’t you, boyo?

But did I? I turned my head and clenched my jaw at the picture she made.

My little wife looked demure as fuck, just sitting there in her ivory dress, hands clamped in front of her, and lower lip between her pearly white teeth.

But that kitten had claws. And I couldn’t wait to feel them scratching up my back.

It was just luck I found Michaela attractive.

More than that.

My dick hadn’t stopped throbbing since my gaze landed on the dark-eyed beauty I knew a long time ago. She was different now.

Older.

Mature.

Pretty as fuck.

And I was a sick fucking bastard to be thinking about fucking her when we haven’t even had a chance to talk.

What could I say?

I wasn’t a saint. Never pretended to be.

“We’re here, Boss.”

My driver jumped out of the car, moving towards my wife’s door.

“I got it,” I growled, standing outside the car and taking her hand.

Michaela looked surprised, but she moved, following my unspoken command. She undid her buckle and slid across the seat, exiting the vehicle on the same side as me.

Something primal hummed inside of me, pleased she was able to tell what I wanted, or needed , in that moment.

What the fuck was wrong with me?