Page 183 of Sins of the Orchid

Suddenly, I realized I couldn't wait to become his wife. Our admissions last night sealed the impending wedding, but we didn’t set a date. Or place.

Mine.

* * *

Two hours later, the Jeep was packed with bags; we’d bought out the store. Santi went to the local grocery store where he talked to a man, reciting a list of things he wanted delivered to his place before we headed to grab a bite to eat at one of the delis.

I bit into my Mediterranean sandwich, moaning at the taste of it. “Oh my gosh, this is good.” I must have been hungrier than I thought.

Santi’s gaze darkened and warmed, full of every emotion, sending a shiver across my spine.

“Not as good as your pussy,” he murmured, and my cheeks heated.

“Santi!” I scolded him, glancing around us to ensure nobody else heard him.

He let out a breath of amusement. “It’s the truth. Now eat because you’ll need all your energy tonight.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”

Though I suspected the answer and liked the idea of it. Maybe I was a nymphomaniac? I just couldn’t get enough of him. Though if I was honest, I loved feeling like that.

He smiled, wickedness dancing in his eyes. “You’ll see.”

“You know, we better find some other hobbies we both enjoy because eventually sex will get old,” I said, bringing my sandwich to my mouth.

He laughed deep, his eyes shining with amusement, and I realized making Santi laugh was another aphrodisiac. Seeing him happy. It did things to my heart.

“Not very likely, my sex monster,” he teased, shaking his head while a smile still played on his lips. “I’ll never have enough of you, and I’ll be sure you never get enough of me. But we can certainly work on other hobbies too. Now eat!”

There would be nothing else coming from his mouth; I knew it. So, I shrugged my shoulders and bit into my sandwich again. I devoured it like I hadn’t eaten in days. He was eating too, and every so often he’d glance at his phone.

“Can you get me a phone too?” I asked. “I still have some work to check on and can’t just disappear without lining up backups.”

He met my eyes, his brow raised then shook his head in disbelief. “You must be the only twenty-one-year-old worried about work, my little heiress.”

I scoffed. “I bet you were worried about your papà’s business way before my age.”

“You are right,” he admitted, scratching his chin. “It is rare to see it in a woman.”

I threw my head back and laughed. “First, that is sexist. And second, thanks for calling me a woman.” I shook my head. “I swear, Santi. You can be such a man.”

The smile he gave me was startlingly beautiful, and my breath hitched at how much younger he looked when he smiled like that.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he muttered. His eyes traveled over my head, and I followed his gaze to find Lorenzo standing there.

“What are you doing here?” I exclaimed, jumping up to hug him and he wrapped his arm around me. “Is everybody okay?”

Blending in with local tourists, he was wearing white golf shorts and a black polo t-shirt. He didn’t play golf.

He chuckled. “Everyone is fine.” He pressed a kiss on my cheek. “I came to be your witness.”

I glanced at Santi in his black three-piece suit with confusion in my eyes.

“Witness?”

“We are getting married.”

Three heartbeats passed before I could think straight. Suddenly, his choice of wardrobe today made sense. He would dress formally for his own wedding, no matter how small or casual it was.