But his soul didn’t match his looks—and he was vile.

  I made it the rest of the way, wanting this moment to pass so we could move on and forget about it. The only positive memory I would have of this day was walking with my father. I knew it was probably the last time we would ever be together like this, when he would be healthy enough to get out of bed. He would no longer be the man to take care of me—because he was now handing the responsibility to the man waiting for me.

  When we reached Maverick, my father kissed me on the cheek. “I love you, princess.”

  “I love you too, Daddy.” I hugged him, and I let the embrace linger for a long time. I should have pulled away sooner, but I didn’t want to. It was the last time I would get the chance to hug him in the sunlight.

  My father patted me on the back, understanding the emotions that were swirling around inside me. He was the one to pull away first, because he knew I would never move otherwise.

  I walked the rest of the way and looked at Maverick, doing my best to control my trembling lip. Marrying this man wasn’t nearly as bad as losing my father, and in that very moment, I felt like I was living with his ghost. I knew this moment would be a memory all too soon.

  Maverick watched me, dropping his artificial look of affection as he stared at my trembling lip. His eyes fell as he looked at me, and in that instant, there seemed to be a hint of compassion. He did the unexpected and wrapped his powerful arms around my waist and pulled me to his chest, making my head turn the other way so I would have a moment of privacy.

  The crowd aww’d at this gesture, assuming Maverick loved his new bride so much that he couldn’t keep his hands off her.

  But I knew he was just giving me a moment to say goodbye to my father, to swallow the sorrow at the loss. That made me hate him a little less, made me wonder if he did have a soul under that intimidating façade. My father seemed certain Maverick would take care of me…and maybe he was right.

  Maverick gave me as much time as he could before he stepped back.

  It was enough for me to breathe a few times, to steady my bottom lip, to keep my eyes dry and my makeup intact. It was a momentary reprieve from the unbearable reality of my world. I’d lost everything—and now I would lose the most important thing to me.

  Maverick faced me, his eyes glued to my expression so hard he didn’t even blink. He didn’t stare at me like he was in love with me, but he stared at me like he could look at me forever.

  The priest performed the ceremony, asking us to repeat lines when necessary.

  In a daze, I did my part.

  Maverick spoke with a powerful voice, fooling the audience into thinking he actually wanted me to be his wife.

  I hadn’t even considered the last part of the ceremony, the moment we would become husband and wife and share our first kiss. Now the moment loomed over both of us, the first contact we would share with our lips.

  And it would be the last.

  Maverick moved toward me again, his arms sliding around my waist as his neck bent down so his mouth could meet mine. He squeezed me against him as his mouth descended, landing on my lips with the softness of a cloud.

  I kept up the act by wrapping my arms around his neck and letting my lips brush against his. His mouth was softer than I’d expected.

  The kiss only lasted a couple of seconds, and it occurred in the midst of clapping and cheering. Maverick didn’t just peck me on the lips and pull away. He made it seem real, moving his lips against mine like he wanted to kiss me. His lips gently tugged on mine, every touch purposeful. A warm breath escaped his lips and filtered across my skin, smelling like mint and scotch mixed together. The taste was distinctly manly in a way I couldn’t describe.

  For a moment, I forgot I was kissing Maverick.

  Because I actually liked it.

  Guests drank their champagne and ate the slices of cake that were passed around. A rustic Italian feast had just been devoured for dinner, so everyone enjoyed themselves like they were at a five-star resort.

  Maverick and I moved to the center of the clearing where we would have our first dance. One of his arms hugged the small of my back while he gripped my other hand. Placing our joined hands against his chest, he started to guide me on the dance floor as the classical music played.

  We didn’t say a word to each other as we danced, everyone watching us like we were a couple in love.

  Maverick was in his element, taking the lead and guiding me like he had with so many other women. He knew how to dance, how to sway to the music without looking awkward. He was confident no matter what he did—even dancing with his bride.

  He lifted my arm and spun me around before he brought me back into his chest, his head tilted down toward mine. His cheek rested against my temple so we wouldn’t have to hold eye contact throughout the song.

  The sun had set, so the lights strung across the property shone a little brighter. Candles glowed on the tables. The centerpieces were filled with white lilies and pink roses. Whoever Maverick hired to design this wedding did a fabulous job—too bad it meant nothing to either of us.

  With all the strangers surrounding me, I felt alone. That forged a surprising alliance with Maverick. When my father was gone, he was all I would have left. It made me feel a little closer to him, made me feel less isolated. “Thank you for what you did earlier…” He’d come to my rescue so I wouldn’t sob at the altar, break my father’s heart with my tears. Without a euro to my name, I thought I would have to stay home and watch my father die in pain in his bed. But Maverick said he would give my father everything he needed to give him some dignity for his final days. He knew I was on the verge of tears, but he didn’t make me feel worse about it.

  “I understand this is hard for you.” He turned his head and looked me in the eye. It was the first time we’d ever been this close together, our eyes locked on each other. His eyes provided a perfect reflection of the bistro lights hung across the property, acting as a mirror. Like warm coffee on a winter day, his eyes were the most gorgeous shade of brown.

  I hadn’t noticed the depth of their beauty before.

  With confidence, he held my gaze like this moment wasn’t unbearable. When he didn’t spit out insults, he was actually pleasant. It was strange to think this man was now my husband, that I would wear his last name for the rest of my life. We were joined together, husband and wife.

  I could feel his black ring against my fingertips, the thick band he would only wear for the evening. It wasn’t a traditional ring, not made of gold like most. But it suited him well…even though he would never wear it.

  “My father speaks highly of you.”

  “Not sure why.” He continued to guide me across the floor, carefully maneuvering my long dress and not stepping on it.

  “He said you keep your promises…and that’s rare these days.”

  “That doesn’t mean I deserve a good reputation. I’m not a good man, and I don’t pretend to be. I’m too much like my father and not enough like my mother.”

  “Well, he thinks otherwise.”

  “He doesn’t know me well enough.”

  “Or maybe you just don’t know how to take a compliment.”

  His eyes narrowed on my face as his hand squeezed mine a little harder. “I don’t want to insult my wife on our wedding day, so I suggest you choose your words carefully.”

  I smiled. “That’s romantic…”

  “I’m not a romantic guy.”

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

  He turned his gaze away and kept dancing. He seemed to tune me out, like I wasn’t even there.

  “Why do you have such a poor opinion of yourself?”

  “I don’t. I just understand what I am.”

  “And why are you a bad man?”

  “Do we need to have this conversation now?”

  “Something else you want to talk about?” I countered.

  “We could not talk at all.” His eyes scanned the people around us, hardly giving me any attention.

  “Alright…” Just when I thought I could connect with him, he pushed me away.

  He danced with me in silence, preferring the palpable tension to conversation.

  “When the night is over, where will we go?”

  “Inside. I had my men gather your things from your apartment. You can go back tomorrow and pick up whatever else you need. The banks will seize it soon, so I suggest you grab what’s important.”

  When the night was over, the mansion looming over us would be my new home. “And my father?”

  “He has a room made up for him. We’ll take him to the hospital tomorrow.”

  Maverick may be my husband, but he didn’t have to take care of my father. He didn’t have to spend any money on him. But he seemed to shoulder the responsibility without argument. “Thank you. It means a lot to me.” If Maverick were more like his father, he would dump my father on the lawn and not think about him twice. The man did possess compassion; he just tried to brush it off like it was nothing.

  He didn’t look at me, ignoring my gratitude.

  It didn’t matter what kind of peace offering I made, Maverick never took the bait. Even if he had the chance to connect with me, he didn’t want to. He was determined to be as distant with me as possible, to not even allow friendship to blossom.

  The song finally concluded, the torture coming to an end.

  Maverick dropped his arm from my waist, like he couldn’t wait for the opportunity to walk away.

  Then everyone clanked their forks against their glasses, the tradition that enticed the bride and groom to share a kiss.

  Maverick hid his annoyance as he turned back to me, knowing we would have to share a few more kisses before the night was over. His arm moved back around my waist, and he pulled me into him again.

  We couldn’t connect through conversation or friendship. We were charged the exact same way, our attitudes clashing together like two bolts of electricity. We would never see eye to eye on anything.

  But there was chemistry when we touched—however faint it was.

  He lowered his mouth to mine and kissed me again, his full lips taking mine like last time. With the same precision, he took my mouth and made it his. His hand squeezed the back of my dress as he pulled me closer, making all the guests clap eagerly.

  My hand pressed against his torso and felt the hardness of his body through his clothes. My fingers flinched when I came into contact with the hard wall, surprised by his unnatural strength. My hand slowly softened as I got used to his ripped physique, my breath filling his mouth as an unexpected jolt of desire fluttered through my body.

  He pulled away and looked me in the eyes for a moment, like he knew exactly what I experienced when I touched him. But instead of making a smartass comment, he kept his thoughts to himself.

  11

  Maverick

  The last guest didn’t leave until three in the morning.

  The servants worked outside to clear the tables, silverware, and endless decorations that stretched across the property.

  My maid took Arwen and her father to their rooms so I could go to the third floor and retire to my bedroom. I hadn’t expected the wedding to last for so long, but once people had wine in their bellies, they turned chatty and lingered.

  I would have liked to have a woman in my bed tonight, but it was too late now and I was too tired. I stripped off my tie and draped it over the back of the armchair then let my jacket fall off my shoulders. My fingers popped open every single button until the collared shirt fell down my arms. My watch came next.

  A knock sounded on my bedroom door.

  I turned around to face the entryway, unsure why Abigail would disturb me at this hour. There was nothing so important that she needed to bother me right this moment. “Come in.”

  The door cracked and then revealed Arwen, still in her wedding dress. With a sweetheart neckline and sleeves of lace, her dress was elegant but also formfitting. It highlighted her many curves, her plump tits, and narrow waist. Her hair was thicker than I’d ever seen it before, and she looked ready for a performance at the opera. Every person who watched her walk down the aisle thought she was stunning.

  She must have followed me to my bedroom because Abigail wouldn’t have brought her here without my permission. We’d shared several kisses throughout the night, and I suspected that was why she was here now. She hated me, but not enough to ignore the chemistry between us.

  She stepped inside and shut the door behind her.

  I’d never intended to pursue a physical relationship with her, but if she wanted to fuck, I wouldn’t say no.

  A man didn’t say no to easy pussy.

  She walked up to me, her blue eyes so damn bright. Her emotions were easy to read because she had the most hypnotic expression. She had men in her bed because she could get any man she wanted. With those full lips and nice tits, her admirers probably jerked off to her every night.

  My hand slid into her hair, and I kissed her. My lips felt hers, but this time, it wasn’t for show. My fingers found her slender neck, and I caressed the skin as I cradled her head and deepened the kiss, thinking about how I wanted to fuck her. She probably had a nice ass—but those tits were gorgeous.

  She pressed her hands against my hard chest and pulled away. “That’s not why I came here…” She licked her lips and dropped her gaze, like she was embarrassed she’d misled me.

  I wasn’t embarrassed I’d made the wrong assumption. I was annoyed I wasn’t getting sex tonight. “Then why are you here? Don’t barge into my room like that.”

  “I knocked…”

  “Then don’t come to my door again. I’m not in the mood to talk. If you want to fuck, take off your clothes and get on the bed. If you came here for a chat, get the fuck out. I’ve already done enough for you. I don’t need to put up with this shit.”

  She stilled in front of me as if she couldn’t believe my outburst. “My father is asleep, and I can’t find Abigail.” She turned around and showed me the back of her wedding dress. “I can’t get this off by myself, so I thought you could help me. But since that doesn’t fit into your two categories, I’ll just go. I’d rather sleep in this thing instead.” She marched to the door, her head held high with rage.

  I didn’t feel bad for my outburst, but I did feel bad that she would have to sleep in that stiff gown on her wedding night. A woman never struggled to get her dress off on her wedding night…because her husband would always happily remove it.

  I was her husband now. “Get back in here.”

  She stopped in the doorway and slowly looked at me over her shoulder. Normally, she would march off, but any extra time in that skintight dress was probably unbearable.

  “Now.” With my bare feet hitting the hardwood floor, I stepped closer to her. My bedroom was nice and cool, a break from the heat outside. I could feel the cool air brush over my bare skin.

  She stared at me for another moment before she returned to me, her dress dragging along the floor because she must have slipped off her heels in her bedroom. She walked up to me, glanced at my hard chest, and then turned around.

  I stared at the thirty-six buttons and sighed. She never would have been able to get this off without me, not even with a pair of scissors or a knife. My hand moved under her neck and gently pulled the hair away, a waft of her perfume hitting my nose. My fingers started at the top, and I unbuttoned the very first one, seeing the dress give just a smidge with the release. My fingers kept going, undoing one after another.

  She was silent as she waited for me to finish, not interested in making conversation after my outburst.

  I kept working, the fabric slowly coming apart and revealing more of her bare skin. Her straight spine was flanked by two sets of muscles, her fair skin unblemished and beautiful. There wasn’t even a freckle in sight. She was completely smooth, untouched. I stared at her back as I went lower and lower, moving to the top of her ass. I couldn’t see her top of her underwear yet, but if I kept going, I eventually would.

  When the back of her dress was loose, she gripped the front and kept it pinned to her chest. “Thank you.” She didn’t give me another look as she headed to my bedroom door and walked out.

  I stared out the open door even though she was long gone. Now my slacks were tight and uncomfortable because of the enormous bulge right in the front of my pants. I could feel the pulse in my dick as the desire ran through my veins. Something about that gorgeous skin made me white-hot. The sight of the outline of her tits, the way her spine curved so deep at the base, the way her skin erupted in bumps as the cool air brushed against her skin…it all aroused me.

  The next morning, I sat at the kitchen table and drank my coffee while I went through emails and notes on my phone. The newspaper sat beside me, but unfortunately, I didn’t usually have time to read it.

  My father’s name popped up on the screen as the phone rang.

  Well, there went my morning.

  “Morning.”

  My father never issued a greeting. Even hello was too much for him. “Is he going to die soon?”

  What a lovely question first thing in the morning. “Odd question.”

  “My sources tell me he doesn’t have much time. He hasn’t paid his debts and delivered what he promised. The guys are going to move in any day. For his sake, I hope he’s dead soon. I’d rather die on a morphine drip than with a blade in my stomach.”

  I didn’t share most of my father’s opinions, but I agreed with him on that front.

  “If he’s got some time left, I suggest you slip him something so he can go with some dignity.” He hung up.

  I lowered the phone from my ear and considered what my father had just advised. Arwen wouldn’t want me to kill him prematurely, but she didn’t understand how terrible it would be if he didn’t die naturally. Those men would make the last few hours of his life unbearable. If we did it soon, we could bury him next to his wife, and the men would move on.