Page 417 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Rick

"You may kiss the bride." The registrar from the local town hall agreed to come to Grams’ place to wed us, and I managed to get him in without arousing the interest of the paparazzi.

After a week in the hospital, as soon as Dr. Kincaid gave his all-clear, Grams, herself, insisted on being discharged.

For someone with three stents in her heart, she’s chipper.

If the doc hadn’t updated me on the operation, I’d be sure she pulled this entire stent—I mean, stunt—of being unwell to get me married and settled down.

Okay, I’m being uncharitable. Though Grams is savvy enough to try something like this, in this instance, she really was unwell.

Although…she did use the condition to coerce me into getting married.

In a way, I need to thank her for bringing Gio into my life, and for ensuring she agreed to marry me.

The same Gio who moved out of the room we shared and into Mira’s place.

The same Gio on whose finger I slid a wedding ring which had belonged to my mother and which compliments the engagement ring she already had on.

The same Gio who offers me her cheek when I lean in toward her.

"If you think you can deprive me of what’s mine, you’re mistaken," I whisper.

She stiffens, but before she can reply, I wrap my fingers around the nape of her neck and tug with enough pressure that she has to turn her face in my direction. There’s a mutinous expression on her face. Her lips are pursed.

"All the better to kiss you with." I close my mouth over hers.

I mean for the kiss to be hard, to show her who’s in charge.

To show her I’m as pissed off as she is at the turn of events.

This was supposed to be my revenge, but somehow, the tables have been turned.

I’m the one who should be pissed at her for how her actions affected my sister.

Instead, she’s pissed at me—and she has reason to be.

I realize now, I can’t lay the blame for my sister committing suicide on her shoulders.

It was my sister’s actions that led to what happened.

And if I’d been there, I’d have stopped her.

If I’d known what she was going through, I’d have helped her.

So, really, I’m the one responsible for what happened.

The buck stops with me. But no part of this realization is going to bring my sister back.

Anger squeezes my guts. My shoulder muscles bunch.

I tighten my hold on her, tilt my head, and lick up the seam of her lips.

She parts them on a groan, and I plunge my tongue inside her mouth.

The taste of her goes to my head, the scent of her sinks into my blood, and as always, my cock is erect and ready for action when she’s involved.

Why am I so in thrall to this woman? She can make me do anything she wants. Does she know that?

And now I have her where I want her—in my arms, married to me, she’s my wife.

My other half. Mine. The realization sweeps through me.

The knots inside of me she’s unloosened dissolve completely.

A quiver undulates my spine. I soften my lips, gentle my kiss, and she melts into me.

I wrap my arm about her waist and draw her close.

She moans against my mouth, I absorb the sound, then haul her up to her toes, bringing her closer.

"Look at me while I kiss you, wife," I demand against her mouth.

She raises her heavy eyelids, and the gold in her eyes lightens to silver.

She’s aroused, alright. She might want to hate me, but her reaction to me tells the true story.

She swallows, a look of helplessness seeps into her eyes, and my heart stutters.

And when she beseeches me without saying a word, I understand her frustration, her pain, her need for me, and the self-recrimination she levels against herself for feeling the way she does.

It mirrors the contradictory emotions that crowd my mind, my heart, every cell in my body.

The need to continue kissing her, yet to release her.

The need to claim her, knowing she’ll never love me the way I already love her.

Knowing I’ll never confess how much I want her and what she means to me, for the ghost of my sister will always be in the background, making me feel guilty.

Once more, I turned my back on her. Once more, I failed her.

I release my wife, and she stumbles. A flash of satisfactions zips through me.

I kissed all thoughts from her mind. I ensured she couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything but the sensation of my lips pressed to hers, my fingers on her skin, the hard lines of my torso digging into her curves, my palm-prints imprinted into the dip of her waist, marking her as mine.

Too bad I’m not going to follow through on the satisfaction my kiss promised her.

I squeeze her shoulder until I know she’s steady, then step back.

Her forehead scrunches, a look of confusion on her features, and I want to soothe her and reassure her and tell her it’s okay.

Only, I'd be lying. We’re married, my grandmother is on her way to recovery.

Now, all that remains is to ensure her ex never lays eyes on her again, and my work will be done.

I wrap my arm about her and turn to face Grams. "Happy?" I ask her.

"Very." She rises to her feet and walks over to us. Her steps are slow but steady. She’s lost weight since the operation, but the paleness on her features is slowly fading. She’s still weak, but she wouldn’t hear of us waiting another day.

Her eyes are bright, her face wreathed in smiles as she leads Tiny over to us.

She's insisted on having him by her side every second since she came home.

The Great Dane, for his part, has been very gentle with her.

He slept by her bed, and dogged her footsteps, and never barked once in her presence.

It’s as if he knows not to do anything that would put any additional strain on her heart.

I checked with Doc Kincaid about it, and he said, if the mutt helps calm her, then there's no reason she can’t spend time with him.

Now, Tiny looks from me to Gio to me. Then, of course, he brushes his head gently against her.

Goldie pats his head, and Tiny makes a purring sound. One touch from her has turned him into a cat, apparently.

Grams giggles, then claps her hands and looks between us. "I’m so happy!" She turns to me. "I can’t believe you’re married."

Me neither.

"She’s too good for you, obviously." Grams sniffs. "And if you do anything to upset her, you’ll have me to contend with."

Too late.

"Whose side are you on?" I frown.

"Giorgina’s, of course," Grams chuckles.

Tiny wags his tail in agreement.

My entire family has turned against me. Not that I blame them. Given a choice, I’d take Gio’s side over mine, anyway.

"I’m sure you’d like to spend time with my bride, but—"

"You’re taking her on a honeymoon, I assume?" Grams arches an eyebrow at me.

I shift my weight from foot to foot. "I—"

"I don’t want one." Goldie bends and takes Grams’ hand in hers.

"We’re in the middle of the season, so neither Rick nor I can get away.

It’s a miracle the paparazzi haven’t found out about this ceremony.

We want to take advantage of that and keep things quiet.

In fact, we decided not to tell our friends or the team, either. "

"We did?" I scowl.

We didn’t discuss it, and I’ve been too focused on my daily practice to mention it to anyone. Then, there's the fact that I've missed her presence. Something which took me by surprise, even though it really shouldn't.

It’s why I’ve begun working out every evening.

So, when I stumble into bed, I fall asleep at once.

Of course, then I awaken before dawn and reach for her, find she's not there, and admonish myself.

I'm the first to turn up at practice, and the last to leave.

And of course, I've gotten knowing looks from my teammates and Edward, who noticed she’d moved out.

Edward asked me if everything was okay, when I said it was, he didn’t push the subject. It had been my idea she move into the house, to foster team-spirit, so it was no surprise he didn’t have an issue with her moving out.

Gio didn’t turn up for practice last week, but that wasn’t a surprise.

I told the team she had some personal things to take care of, which was why she was staying with Mira, but we were still together.

Edward wasn’t buying it, but as long as we kept the PR story alive, he was good.

My teammates didn’t pry into it. That is, except Finn, who asked me how things had gone with Gio? I lied and said everything was okay.

So no, we didn’t decide not to tell our friends and team about our wedding, but we also hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, yet.

"Don’t you remember?” She widens her gaze at me, “You suggested we keep it quiet, lest it takes away from the excitement around the finals."

I glare at her. She pales, and tries to pull away, but I tighten my arm about her. I bend and pretend to kiss her forehead. "We had no such conversation, baby.”

"It’s the right thing to do, don’t you think?" She rises up on tiptoe and whispers so Grams can’t hear her, "This marriage is a farce; there’s no need to go shouting about it to everyone. The less people who know, the easier it will be when we break up."