Page 7

T he wedding day.

It was the week before Thanksgiving and New York City weather was similar to that of where I’d been the last month overseas in western China.

It was good to be back, but I had to admit this was something of a fucking surprise.

I followed Maggie out of the small office after I signed the license. She led the way to a larger room that was empty except for a desk where a handful of people stood right in front of it.

First, I found my sister’s bodyguards flanking the room, keeping guard at each exit and the one large window.

There was an older man, a judge I gathered from the placard on his desk leaning against his desk. He was chatting with two younger women, one of whom was my bride.

The other woman looked vaguely familiar. She was stern looking, dressed in green scrubs, with bark framed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose and her short hair pushed away from her face by a headband.

Right. She’s the friend Michaela hung around with in high school. Guess they’re still close.

Michaela was holding her hands clasped together in front of her, worrying her lower lip between her teeth as the other two carried whatever conversation was going on.

I took a moment to look her over, unobserved.

Fuck.

She was so pretty, lovely really, and I was a goddamn lecher.

Michaela was nine years younger than me and infinitely more in terms of innocence.

Her posture was graceful.

Her figure, womanly.

Her skin, clear and smooth.

She looks so fucking soft.

But she was young and sweet. Much too sweet for me.

Forty wasn’t as far away as it used to be, and the truth was, Maggie had hit the nail on the head.

I’d been thinking about the state of my life just lately. Thinking about growing old alone, and I had to admit it was unappealing.

I wasn’t a good man. I mean, I wasn’t a serial killer or anything, but my hands were far from clean. Some of the shit I’ve done was under order of the Volkovs themselves.

Maybe Michaela’s life wasn’t so far from mine after all. Sure, she likely grew up sheltered from the darker, grittier aspects of her family’s life.

But we both lived in the same hard world. Only her view was from the penthouse and mine from the perch beneath.

She still smells like lilacs.

The first time I met her I remember breathing in a delicate floral scent I’d never encountered before.

“What is that?” I asked as we waited for the elevator in Volkov Towers so many years ago.

“Excuse me?”

“Your perfume,” I explained.

“It’s lilacs,” she murmured, blushing prettily.

“Nice.”

We’d parted ways right after her response. I chose to take the stairs instead of riding in the elevator with her. Like something in the back of my mind had told me not to be alone with the young Volkov.

Why that memory should filter into my brain now, I hardly knew. Only she’d been too young then for me to do more than offer a vague nod at her response. I’d been smart to leave.

Lilacs.

I never knew anyone else to favor that scent. It was fresh and sweet, delicate.

Like her.

I stepped further into the room. The judge seemed to notice me, and his eyes flicked to mine. I dipped my head, telling him without words not to give me away.

I wanted the moment to take her in before she knew I was there.

Am I really going to do this? Bind this woman to the monster that I am?

Michaela wore a simple ivory dress, cinched at the waist with a thin gold chain for a belt. The skirt stopped mid-calf.

My eyes went lower, and fuck me, I had to admit I liked what I saw.

She wore stockings. The kind with the seam along the back, like something out of a 1950s magazine, with what looked like vintage heels on her feet.

I wondered if she had a garter on or some other naughty confection beneath her pretty frock. An image of her wearing just that flashed in my brain and a possessive growl rumbled in my chest.

Such a pretty little thing.

My cock swelled. I closed my suit jacket, almost positive it was long enough to cover any bulges I’d rather keep to myself.

“Alright, everyone ready?” Maggie announced, bringing attention to the fact I was standing directly behind my intended.

“One minute,” the woman in scrubs said, facing me with a narrow-eyed gaze.

“Liam O’Doyle,” I said my name, offering her my hand.

“Michelle Davis.”

“Pleasure to meet you. Hello Michaela,” I said, dipping my chin, my eyes now on my bride.

“Wait a second. I just don’t understand what is happening here and maybe you can help with that?—”

“Shelly please! You promised no questions,” Michaela hissed.

“Well excuse me, but I am your best friend, and I didn’t even know you were seeing this guy, Micky. I know you had a crush on him when you were a teenager, but what the hell? Now you’re just marrying him and without your family here?”

She had a crush on me?

“It’s just one of those things, Shelly,” she whispered, but I saw the way Michaela’s eyes rounded and the pink glow filling her cheeks told me her best friend had inadvertently spilled the beans.

I lost the battle with my grin, stepping closer, I put my hand on Michaela’s lower back.

“I know this is fast, Shelly—may I call you that?” I asked, waiting for her assent. She nodded, so I continued. “But I promise I will take care of her.”

“Yeah? Well, you better,” Shelly replied.

“I swear it. Now, if you will all give me one minute to speak to my blushing bride?” I said, unable to resist teasing her.

“Liam! Come on. Let’s do this now,” Maggie hissed, but I ignored her.

“One minute.”

I took Michaela’s hand and pulled her to the other side of the room, ignoring the electric jolt that zapped through my arm straight to my cock at the seemingly platonic touch.

I turned Michaela to face me, not knowing if I could trust her face to remain impassive while I asked her what I had to ask her.

“Before we do this, are you okay?” I asked in a hushed whisper.

“What? Oh. Yes,” she nodded.

She blinked slowly. Casting her gaze my way. Those dark eyes of hers were wide open, and damn, she looked pretty.

Was she in shock? Maybe. But it looked good on her.

I’m a sick fuck for thinking that.

I huffed, angry at myself and my hardening cock. But it just couldn’t be helped.

“Look, I know you owe my sister for something. But we can walk out of here right now if you don’t want to go through with this,” I said, gritting my teeth against the words.

I hardly knew this girl, but sometime in the last ten minutes I started thinking about her as mine .

Yeah, I’d met her before. But she was a kid back then, and I never allowed myself to think of her as anything but.

Seeing her now, though, all grown up and looking good enough to eat? Well, let’s just say, I wanted to kick myself in the nuts for giving her an out.

“No, I-I gave my word. I want to go through with it,” she whispered, shaking her head.

Thick fringed midnight eyes blinked up at me and fuck, that look was intense. Like that piece of volcanic glass I kept on my desk. I brought it back with me from China ages ago.

“If we do this, you understand you won’t be able to just walk away, right?”

“I understand.”

“Okay then,” I murmured, wondering at the charge that seemed to buzz between us.

I turned around, taking her hand, and we both walked to the front of the room where everyone waited.

“Shall we begin?” Judge Turning said.

“Yeah,” I said, keeping hold of Michaela’s soft, pale hand for the duration.

“Let’s get married.”