Page 32

THIRTY-ONE

Dante

I exhale another irritated sigh as Andrea adjusts the stupid bow tie. I'm not a bowtie illiterate person. I learned how to tie it once and remembered ever since, but it's not straight enough for his liking.

Theodore may not mind being primped and fussed over by Andrea, but I've considered several ways that I could have stabbed him by now. He's lucky I have damn good impulse control.

“What’s the point of this? It’s excessive.”

Hardly anyone is here, yet I’m expected to wear a full tux for the ceremony. We already did the paperwork; this is just a formality. Andrea’s personal jeweler showed up this morning for me to pick out our wedding rings. I’d never bothered with such things and none of the rings “spoke to me” like they said they should. Eventually, they left me alone and went to Inaya. I have no idea what she picked, and I don’t care.

Without answering me, Andrea steps back and gives my outfit another assessing once-over. Satisfied, he shifts his light eyes back to mine to acknowledge my words.

“It’s a necessary memory. If not for you, for Inaya and your child.”

“The memory will still be valid without a damn tux. The bowtie is already irritating me.”

“The bowtie isn’t your problem,” Wyn says as he enters the room.

“I’m pretty fucking annoyed,” I retort, with another glare in his direction. I may have been emotionally stunted, but I didn’t just fall out of the sky. I know what annoys me.

His smile never slips. In fact, it grows. “Andres would love to have someone like you on his payroll. The way you’re so cold with everyone else but care about Inaya is impressive.” Wyn shrugs and continues like I’m not over this conversation. “You’re focusing on the bowtie but you’re nervous about the ceremony. We’ve all been there.”

I drop my hands in my pockets and level them with looks. “If one of you tries to mansplain what I’m feeling or thinking one more time, I’m going to start making widows.”

Theodore appears, just as I finish issuing my warning. “Okay, let’s get this moving. Stop bothering him and line up. I’m the first out of the room, because it was becoming stuffy. I’m ready to get this over with so people can stop paying attention to me. I’m used to being a ghost, lurking in the background. I don’t like having attention on me, nor am I trying to forge friendships.

The manhunt for me continues, but they’re looking into the wrong places. Since I now must get married, Andrea had his hacker contact, Huxley, create a trail that will go cold here. The plan is to turn myself in here so Inaya doesn’t have to travel just yet. I don’t know what Father and his associates are up to, but there isn’t any proof that I kidnapped my wife. This feels like a reach to buy him time to heal.

I’ll play his game, but if he has something on me, it’s something he’s held close to the chest and nowhere that I can find it. My musings, however, fall away when Inaya enters the room.

She looks beautiful and so happy that her brown eyes shine. Some of my restlessness melts away. We’re really doing this. The very woman I’d considered a pawn months ago is becoming my wife. Not only is she marrying me, but she’s doing it partially because she doesn’t want me to go away for what I did to her. The human brain and emotional system are very fascinating things. Inaya doesn’t have a veil, but she doesn’t strike me as a veil person now that I think about it. It’s all too fussy. Her hair has been styled into soft waves that fall around her shoulders to mid back.

I want to touch it. I want to touch her. The soft blue dress she’s wearing glimmers, giving it a silver glow. It gives her just enough cleavage to make my mouth water. The quiet that I found when I had that dream about her finds me now. When she looks at me like she does and takes my hand, I feel warm, and everything is calm.

“I do,” I tell her.

The damn smile that she keeps pulling out of me appears on my face. Inaya giggles and repeats my words right before I kiss her.

River, Delaney, and Kennedy laugh right along with the guys, but fuck ceremonies.

“It took me hours of tweaking and rewording to write what I was going to say, so I’m just going to say it since you two skipped to the end.”

I don’t hear anything else as Theodore gives his speech. I’m sure it’s a good one, but I’ll just have to get it framed for her later. I take her hand and lead her out of the room since her title change somehow made her sexier than she already is to me.

The women stop us. I’m sure it’s Andrea’s strategy, since I mentioned my lack of desire to kill women when I first met him. At Inaya’s insistence, I paused long enough to get a few photos of us putting the rings on each other, along with a few other couple photos.

Couple. It’s still a weird word, but there is no other way to describe us and now I won’t allow her to be called anything less than my wife. The isolation must have spoiled me because I don’t want to share her attention with anyone, and my impatience grows because of it. When one of Andrea’s employees hands me the knife to cut the cake, I stab it dead center. All conversation ends abruptly while everyone stares from me to the knife sticking out of the cake.

“Enjoy.” My invitation sounds more like me daring them to ask me to do anything else. “We’re leaving.”

No one argues with me as I grab my wife’s hand and lead her to our temporary room. Inaya laughs as I close and lock the door behind me.

“Dante, sweetheart. Why did you scare them like that?” I’m sure other brides would have been angry, but mine is accustomed to my moods and disposition.

I smirk as I pull her closer to me. “What was the phrasing you used before?” I snap my fingers when I remember. “My social battery is drained. Right?”

My response just makes her laugh harder. “You don’t have a social battery.”

I kiss her slowly, bringing her back to our honeymoon, then break the kiss to respond. “Then I should be commended for my patience.”

“I think our wedding and ceremony was quicker than anything ever done in Las Vegas.”

My chuckle rumbles between us as I start to remove her dress. “It gives me more time to make love to my wife.”

Her eyes glaze over, and I don’t immediately get why she became so glassy-eyed. “Say it again,” she whispers.

“It gives me more time to make love to my wife.”

She wraps her arms around me. “The last word only, please.”

“Wife. Wife. Wife…”

I repeat the title for her until I’m inside of her.

Inaya

I stare at Dante while he sleeps. The ring on his finger still shocks me a day later. Then I stare at mine in wonder, like his baby isn’t having the time of its life in my body right now. We still have work to do when it comes to us and his emotions, but damn, we’ve come a long way. The coldness that used to be in his eyes isn’t there went he looks at me and I don’t think he gets how that fucks me up.

The news makes it seem like he’s a possible wild card in the wind and they’re having a big man hunt, although his moves are calculated, and he hasn’t moved in the three days since he heard he was wanted for questioning. I’m not oblivious; I know that Wyn must still be here for a reason.

Dante stretches and opens his eyes to look at me. A slow smile pulls at his full lips. I’m starting to live for those smiles that are truly just for me.

“You’re doing it again,” he jokes as he pulls me into a cuddle.

“First, I got caught in my thoughts,” I explain. “Second, I don’t think you understand how damn attractive you are.”

His chuckle rumbles against my back, but I get distracted by the kiss he drops on my shoulder. We’ve been in this sex bubble like we’re trying to recoup the time we lost, but I know we feel the same thing right now.

Dante climbs off the bed and pulls me into the shower. The water pelts my skin as he puts soap on my sponge. Standing in one spot, I follow his orders, moving only when he needs me to as he washes my body. This isn’t an act of seduction; it’s one of his gestures to show he cares. He wraps a towel around me once he’s done.

“Go get dressed, Gatita. I’ll be out in a few minutes.” I’m stuck in the same spot, though, watching his graceful movements as he washes his hair. Different muscle groups clench and release based on how he moves. It’s amazing, even after seeing it all before. “Clothes, wife,” he orders with his eyes closed.

His awareness is damn sexy, but I move on to the next activity. I put my hair in a high ponytail and focus on moisturizing and then slipping into my clothes. I don’t know if I have a sixth sense about these things, or if my hormones are acting up, or I’m just getting accustomed to this life, but my eyes tear up and Dante reappears to find me crying. He moves faster than me, so I’m not surprised to find him dressed in a tropical print shirt and khakis. The view brings out more tears. I know he wouldn’t dress like that unless he had a purpose.

“It’s okay. I promised that I was coming back to you, and I will.” Dante tilts my chin up and forces me to look at him. “You believe me, right?”

“Yes,” I admit. “It’s just scary not knowing the game plan.”

“I know,” he agrees as he wipes my eyes. “But this is the only way for me to find out what the police think they have on me. It’ll give me a better idea of what’s at play.”

I grab his cheeks and pepper his face with kisses, then pull him into a hug like I’m trying to remember everything about him.

“I know, but I don’t like it.”

We separate once someone knocks on the door. “Come in,” Dante yells, so the person on the other side can hear him.

Wyn opens the door and rests on the jamb. “I’m sorry, you two, but it’s time.”

Dante nods and squeezes my hand. “I’m off to turn myself in.”