Page 101 of Liar

I kiss him like a newlywed kisses her husband.

I kiss him with all the love I have until he’s kissing me back, hungrily and possessively.

Javier’s curse fills the air, followed by the official’s soft admonishment.

Hayden breaks away first. Yet the wild look on his face is telling enough. Papers are signed and the official is paid for his time.

“Where did you get the ring?” I whisper on the way out. I don’t know why I’m whispering. Maybe I’m afraid that if I’m too loud, this crazy fantasy that’s come to life will crack then disappear.

“It was my mother’s ring. Now it’s yours.”

“I want you always by my side.” Your father was a romantic.”

“Yes. Italian to the core. And now that’s where they are, buried side by side. Love wasn’t enough to save them.” He stops, then in a less harsh, less cold tone adds, “We’ll talk more at home about how this will work.”

I blink, a sinking feeling forming in the pit of my stomach.

“May God watch over you,” I hear the official’s well-wishes from behind us. But when I glance over my shoulder, the building is dark, and all the candles are blown out.

31

“What shall we talk about?”

We’re barely inside his house when I ask the question, half afraid I’ll end up alone in the other room, half afraid I won’t. This is my wedding night for better or for worse. I want all the messiness of whatever needs to be said or resaid aired and hung out on the line to dry.

He heads to the refrigerator, removes two beers and a bottle of water, then settles onto the couch. Popping the bottle cap, he drinks deeply while I stand watching him.

“Hayden?”

“Dance for me.”

His request comes out of nowhere. “Now?”

“I’m a selfish bastard, so, yes.”

“What about our talk?”

He makes a noise in his throat. “Luciana. I can’t touch you. I can’t consummate this marriage. But I want something to remember from tonight. Seeing you dancing at the festival, all legs and red dress and the most beautiful person on the dance floor, was the fucking hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I want to feel that again. I want you to dance just for me.”

“You noticed me? From what I remember, you were occupied.” I swallow hard, the woman that was all over him at the festival still a bitter pill.

“I explained that.”

“Why was she climbing all over you at the festival if you rejected her advances?”

“Why is anyone drawn to a Bastard like me? Power. Social positioning.”

This isn’t how our wedding night should be. Arguing like an old married couple. “I hate the idea of another woman touching you.”

He snorts. “And I’ll fucking kill any man who puts his hands on you.”

Better. Much better.

I grin. “You’ll be my music. When I do this,” I lift my hands overhead and arch my back, “you do this.” I clap out a rhythm that begins slowly then picks up tempo.

“Ready?”

He smiles back at me. “I never feel ready when it comes to you.”