When Sloan reaches my side, I hold out my hand. She takes it, still shaking. Her fingers are cold, despite the temperate day.

  I give her a squeeze. “It’s going to be okay.”

  Her eyes, which have never looked bluer, skitter up to mine. “Is it?”

  Then Lono clears his throat, so I nod. We’ll table this discussion for later.

  When the officiant starts the ceremony, I forget he’s the least formally dressed person here. I forget that he looks like a stereotype. His voice… It’s both reverent and reassuring. And as I caress the back of Sloan’s hand with my thumb, I think it’s calming her, too.

  “Do you, Sloan Meghan O’Neill, take Sebastian to be your husband…”

  I tune out the rest of Lono’s speech and zero in on my bride, willing her to say that one magical phrase.

  She draws in a choppy breath and meets my stare like she’s rattled. But she’s got fire and spine, so she pulls through. “I do.”

  “And do you, Sebastian Andrew Shaw, take Sloan to be your wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward? For better or for worse? In sickness and in health? Forsaking all others until death do you part?”

  I squeeze her hand again and smile into her eyes. “I do.”

  We exchange rings as Lono says something about them being the symbol of unending love because they, like love itself, have no beginning and no end.

  “I now pronounce you Sebastian and Sloan Shaw.” He turns to me and winks. “Here’s the part you’ve been waiting for. Kiss your bride.”

  He’s right. I don’t hesitate to cup her face, lean in, and lose myself in the moment. Even over the salty tang of the ocean, I smell strawberries. Her breath is warm and sweet as I hover above her lips, savoring this moment as she clings to my arms and lets out a jagged exhalation. Then closes her eyes and gives herself over to me.

  Our lips touch, but I feel the kiss all through my body. Sloan must too since she stiffens. But when I brush my mouth over hers in a gentle glide, a press of reassurance, she softens against me.

  It’s almost surrender.

  Maybe I should back away with a polite smile and look happy for our guests, but nothing is more important than imprinting myself on my wife. So I nudge her lips apart and settle my mouth more firmly over hers. And—yes!—she lets me in with a breathy moan only I can hear, shyly meeting my tongue as I slip inside.

  Her sweet acceptance makes me lose my head.

  I plunge deeper, sweeping my way past her lips to taste every part of her, reveling when she grips my biceps like I’m the only thing keeping her from melting. She tastes like cinnamon and honey—both spicy and so, so sweet.

  God, I’m going to claim this woman as mine. I’m going to convince her to spend her life with me. Make her love me. I don’t know how that’s going to work since she still hates me. I’ll have to break down the barriers she’s built around her heart because everyone who should give a shit about her doesn’t. But as I press into her mouth again, I vow to figure all that out because I’m never letting her go.

  Evan clearing his throat beside me brings me back to reality. The wedding. Our guests. My semi-hostile bride.

  I ease away to find Sloan with rosy cheeks, kiss-swollen lips, and a gorgeously dazed expression. Unfortunately, I can’t take her to bed for hours. It sucks because I have no idea where her head is or what she’s likely to do once I get her alone.

  Reluctantly, I release her, then take her hand and paste on a big smile for everyone attending our nuptials. Keeley sings Ellie Goulding’s “Love Me Like You Do” as we head down the stairs together, taking our first steps as man and wife.

  She looks my way, the moment breathless, frozen, and uncertain—but I see a hint of hope in the curl of her lips as she clutches my fingers.

  Maybe she doesn’t totally hate me…

  Then she scans the crowd—and I know the exact moment she spots Bruce Rawson looking at her. She gasps and nearly trips on her long, flowing dress.

  Quickly, I wrap my arm around her to keep her from falling. “Look at me, baby.”

  “Why is he here?” she whispers.

  I don’t know. Before I can tell her that, Britta, Bethany, and Harlow—along with the snarky brunette’s friends, Amanda and Masey—surround us and take Sloan’s bouquet before leading us to the lanai, which has been transformed from a beachside hangout to a wedding paradise during our short ceremony.

  A trio of round tables has been assembled to accommodate our roughly twenty guests. A long banquet table occupies one side of the area, complete with chairs for the bridal party, elegant place settings, and a simple white cake, sprinkled with colorful plumerias. And lots of food perfect for a breakfast reception—platters of fruit, pastries, frittatas, and parfaits.

  I sign the wedding license, then Sloan follows suit, hand shaking. It’s done. We’re officially and legally man and wife.

  Maxon approaches from behind and slaps me on the back. “Congratulations.”

  I turn and take his hand, watching my wife—it’s crazy to say that—out of the corner of my eye. “Thanks. And thanks for letting us get married here last minute.”

  “Are you kidding? Keeley was tickled. I think all the ladies had fun last night. It was like a grown-up sleepover. Even Kailani did her best to keep up.” He smiles at his daughter. “Didn’t you, princess?”

  Her happy gurgle lights up the big green eyes just like her father’s. “I really appreciate it. Just tell me how much I owe you all for everything.”

  Maxon shakes his head. “Keeley and I are happy to give you the venue until ten and your honeymoon suite tonight. The cake was Britta and Griff’s gift to you. Noah took care of the photographer. Trace handled the flowers. Evan paid for the rest. Enjoy it. Be happy. And now someone needs a diaper change.”

  As he blows a raspberry on his daughter’s cheek, he heads inside with a laugh that matches her giggle. I want what he has. I want happiness. Belonging. Permanence. Hell, other than Becca, I never thought I wanted anything except corporate climbing and money. I lived for the kill. Now I’d do anything to have my bride look at me the way Nia looks at my best friend—with pure, unshakable love.

  When I turn to find Sloan again, Bruce Rawson hovers nearby, and my wife looks pale and shell-shocked. When our eyes meet, it’s obvious she’s not okay.

  But when I break away to reassure her, I feel a gentle hand on my arm. “Son?”

  It’s not great timing, but I turn to my mother with a smile. I’ll only have a few hours with her before Sloan and I retire together until tomorrow. Mom’s flight arrived hours late, so she barely slept before she had to wake for the ceremony. She must be exhausted and jet-lagged, but she’s here, looking proud and happy.

  I hug her close. “It’s great to see you, Mom. Thanks for coming on such short notice.”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t miss this for anything.” She smiles, not merely like she’s happy to see me but with pure maternal love.

  Why did I forget how much her steady affection means to me? “Do you want to meet Sloan?”

  Evan, Nia, and half the Reed clan have clustered around her. Bruce Rawson can’t get near her now, thank goodness, but she’s clearly unnerved by his unexpected presence. In fact, the old man stares holes through Sloan.

  I don’t know what he wants, but he better not upset her today.

  “Please,” Mom says. “She’s so beautiful.”

  “She is.” I lead my mother toward my wife. “She’s incredibly smart, too. That was the first thing I loved about her.”

  “How long have you two known each other?”

  My mom is traditional. She’ll think we haven’t known each other long enough to get married. Hell, maybe she’s right. But I refuse to believe I’ll ever regret making Sloan mine.

  When I reach her side, I wrap an arm around her waist and guide her and my mom to a quiet corner inside the gorgeous bed-and-breakfast before making quick introductions.

  Sloan’s smile is nervous but gracious as she offers her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Shaw.”

  My mother tsks and holds out her arms. “It’s Daphne. How wonderful to meet you. I hope you don’t mind a hug. We’re family now.”

  When Mom scoops Sloan into her embrace, my wife sends me a surprised glance. I can’t explain the big, super-close family I had growing up, but when my mother squeezes Sloan in a maternal embrace, her eyes brimming with happy tears, I hope my wife understands.

  Mom looks my way. “I would have liked to meet her sooner, Sebastian.”

  “Sorry. The ceremony was really spontaneous, so all the things I would have done if we’d had more time—”

  “Did you rush to the altar because she’s pregnant?” my mother asks hopefully.

  “Mom…no. We just didn’t want to wait. When you know, you know, right?”

  She gives me a worried frown. “Sometimes people change their minds.”

  Like my dad, who suddenly decided he didn’t want to be a family man anymore. She doesn’t want me to go through the horrible heartbreak she endured. But I will when Sloan serves me with divorce papers on our first anniversary.

  No. I don’t want that. I’ll do whatever I have to so that doesn’t happen. I have a year to change her mind. I need to use it wisely.

  Suddenly, my mother gives me a smile. “But I hope things will be different for you. You deserve happiness. Your sisters wanted to be here today.”

  “To attend the wedding? Or because it’s warm in Maui all year?” I tease.

  “Well…” Mom’s grin turns impish. “They definitely hated not seeing you get married…but they wouldn’t turn down the weather, especially after our hellish winter. And spring hasn’t quite sprung yet back home.” She scans the yard, leading to the beach and the ocean beyond. “It’s absolutely beautiful here. And I enjoyed catching up with Evan. He has a lovely wife.”

  “Nia is great. They make a good team both in the office and at home.”

  Mom turns to Sloan. “What do you do, dear?”

  “My employer recently promoted me to VP of Finance,” she says cautiously, giving me a sideways stare full of questions.

  Yeah, I haven’t had a chance to fill my mother in, so bless Sloan for not saying that we’re rivals…or that she married me for business reasons more or less against her will.

  “That’s impressive. Sebastian said you’re very smart.” Mom gives my wife the kind of proud smile she would any of her kids. “And obviously ambitious.”

  “Very,” I assure her.

  “That’s great. My son is, too. In fact, I would have sworn he was too busy to ever get married. Hopefully you two aren’t so wrapped up in your careers that you put off having kids forever.”

  “Mom…”

  “What? You’re over thirty. It’s time to think about the future. Your youngest sister is barely twenty-five, and she’s going to beat you to parenthood.”

  “It’s not a race,” I volley back.

  Mom turns to Sloan. “What about you? Do you want children?”

  “I’d love to have kids,” my wife says. “Probably in a few years.”

  After we’re divorced—at least in her mind. And that will be over my dead body.

  “It’s not a bad idea to enjoy each other and marriage for a while.” Then Mom’s smile falters. “In retrospect, I wish my ex-husband and I had.”

  Suddenly, Keeley approaches, plastic smile in place. “The bride and groom for our noon wedding just informed me that they need to be here a bit early so the bride can be sewn into her dress.”

  Sewn? Is that a thing? “How early?”

  “In two and a half hours.” Her smile almost looks manic now.

  “You need this place picked up by then?”

  Keeley nods. “And reset for their wedding.”

  In other words, there’s no time for small talk. We need to get this reception started so we can wrap it up. Fine by me since I’m eager to be alone with Sloan. “Got it.”

  “Everything okay?” Mom sends a questioning stare my way.

  “Yeah. We just need to kick off the festivities,” I tell her, then I take Sloan’s hand. “You ready, wife?”

  “Yes…husband.”

  Sloan doesn’t look ready, but I can’t refute her. Hell, I can’t even spend the time to reassure her. All I can do is stay by her side until she realizes what’s between us is right.

  Isn’t that a metaphor for our marriage?

  “We’ll finish catching up with you in a bit, Mom.”

  With Keeley leading the way, I guide Sloan to the front of the lanai where the bride and groom chairs have been offset from the others. Evan sits on my right, Nia to my wife’s left.

  After a rushed breakfast, my best friend’s heartfelt toast, and a whole lot of clinking of glasses demanding that Sloan and I kiss, the deejay starts spinning tunes. We take the middle of the floor for our first dance to Ed Sheeran’s “Thinking Out Loud.” It’s fitting since I’m pretty sure I’ll love this woman until I’m seventy—and beyond.

  But in the back of my head, I hear Hey Violet’s “Like Lovers Do,” warning me that she considers love another four-letter word. It’s very like her to think that life is no fairytale, so it’s time to pay up.

  Somehow, I have to change her mind.

  “We’re married,” I whisper in my wife’s ear.

  “I still think you’re insane.”

  I smile as much for everyone watching as I do for my wife. “You went along with it, so what does that make you?”

  “Desperate. You and Satan found my weakness and used it ruthlessly.”

  Her decades-old craving for her father’s approval. Her ambition. Her steadfast loyalty to Reservoir. “I’m going to make you happy.”

  “For the next year, you can try, but I don’t see it.” She presses her lips together. “What happens next?”

  “We’re spending the rest of the day and tonight in Maxon and Keeley’s honeymoon suite. Then we’ll fly back to Dallas tomorrow evening.” I resent the fuck out of the fact business can’t wait a week or two so we could have a proper honeymoon.

  I’ll make it up to her later.

  “I meant for the next year. Where are we living? What will we tell people when we split up?”

  Since I have very strong ideas about all that, I just smile and caress my palm up her spine, bared by the backless dress. “That’s for later. Leave it to me. Just be in the present now.”

  She sighs. “I’m not good at that.”

  Because she’s constantly got her eye on the future. Ambitious people often do. But if she’s already focused on the day we split up and she can be rid of me, how can she ever see me and what we might have together enough to want to stay?

  The sex between us is going to have to be really damn good. Luckily, I don’t think that will be a problem. But that won’t be enough. Somehow, I have to work my way into her heart.

  That’s a much taller order. Good thing I’m looking forward to the challenge.

  All too soon, the song ends. I take advantage of the last few moments Sloan is in my arms to kiss her again before we cut the cake, toss the bouquet, and start saying goodbye to our guests. Briefly, the crowd separates us. I promise my mother we’ll meet her tomorrow morning for breakfast, thank the Reed family for everything they did to make this day possible, then turn to find my bride so we can make our escape.

  She’s been cornered by Bruce Rawson, whose fingers grip her arm as he says something low and emphatic right in her face.

  The damn bastard waited until my back was turned to get inside her head and twist her up again.

  That’s not fucking happening. I charge across the space.

  “What are you saying, sir?” she murmurs.

  Sir. Not Dad—or even anything familiar—on her wedding day. Asshole. After he let his worthless son fire her, she still shows him deference. She still gives a shit about him.

  I get it; when caring is a habit, breaking it is tough. But to see her try so earnestly with Rawson, who doesn’t deserve it, grates on my last nerve.

  I fucking hurt for her.

  I step between them to disrupt his hold and subtly shift, putting her behind me. “Mr. Rawson, Sloan and I didn’t invite you to our wedding. I’d rather not cause the kind of scene necessary to ask you to leave.”

  “Is it a crime now to want to see my daughter get married?”

  Suddenly he’s interested in playing parent? “You did. If you have something to say to her, say it now. I’ll wait.”

  The old man’s face tightens before he gives my wife a long last look. “I’ve said everything I need to. Good luck, Sloan.” Then he turns to me. “And you, fucking leave my company alone.”

  I bend until we’re eye to eye, and I snarl in his face. “You signed the contract, so that ship has sailed. You gave Shane your blind trust to run the company and he did—right into the ground. Even when Sloan tried to tell you he was extracting the organization’s profits and using them as his party fund, you wouldn’t hear of your self-absorbed son being less than perfect. I had to prove it to you in black and white. If you had listened to Sloan sooner—or better yet, promoted her since she gives a shit about Reservoir—you’d be in a better position. Now it’s too late. And it’s past time for you to go.” I grab the old man by the shirt front. “If you care about Sloan at all, make amends after I assume leadership of Reservoir. But if you ever make her cry again, be warned. I know a thousand ways to bury you professionally. I won’t hesitate to use each and every one. Get out.”

  Maxon, who’s closest to our group, takes Rawson by the arm and drags him past the gawking, confused wedding guests to the adjacent parking lot. Griff and Noah call him an Uber and stand to wait with him.

  When I turn to look at my wife, she’s shaken. “Are you okay? What did he want?”

  A frown furrows between her brows. “Nothing you want to hear. I don’t understand why he came.”

  I do. Sloan is his last hope of saving Reservoir. But barring a miracle, they can’t possibly come up with enough cash to bail themselves out before Thursday. “We can talk about it—”