Page 24 of Grift

It’s harder for anyone to give her a hard time when she’s drenched in my money. Her eyes immediately go to the tiny sparkles in the delicate ring as they catch the light. “I chose it,” I say simply. I should add for you, but for some reason I don’t.

And Jessica, being Jessica, gives me grace I don’t deserve. “It’s perfect.”

We say the words, me swearing to love and stay faithful to this beautiful creature I never wanted. She gets as far as “to love, honor, and obey” before giving side-eye to the preacher and seamlessly omitting the offending word from the vows.

It looks like her obedience is something I’m going to have to earn if I want it. An interesting challenge.

The blood flow is going from my heart to my groin, as the minister pronounces, “And I now declare you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Something strange comes over me. It’s like time slows further. A possessiveness I’ve never felt, a reaction to the word “wife.” Pulling her to me, I dip her back and claim her lips with mine. Our families, the northeast’s richest scions, and the prying eyes of god be damned.

She’s mine, and I’ll let them all know it. Her lips are hot against mine. Once she’s over her initial shock, she melts into me with an ease and a perfect fit that I can’t let myself take too deeply to heart.

When we separate, she steps back, something like fire flashing in her eyes. For a minute I think she’s mad, but that’s not what I see in those glittering gray eyes.

It’s pure, lit desire.

My cock goes iron hard, despite the inappropriateness of it all.

What I need is a limo, a way to get to the bridal suite. Gone is every thought about anything except getting her into my bed, when the reality of the situation comes crashing back. That’s not where this day is ending, regardless of what your dick is saying. Get control, Patrick.

Apparently, it’s paperwork time. The guests file out for appetizers in the solarium, whatever the fuck that is. A clerk comes forward, and is speaking softly to Jessica in serious tones. She looks concerned and then finally decides to come over to where I’m still standing beside Callan awkwardly.

“I’m so sorry,” Jessica says, with a tight smile. “Patrick, what is your middle name? We need it for the forms.”

“James,” I say, my voice harsh. There’s no reason she should know that.

“What’s yours?” she looks at me in confusion for moment, before her eyes clear. “Oh, it’s Elizabeth Victoria. Jessica Elizabeth Victoria Kensington.” The way she says it, a hint of snark, shows what she thinks of the regal name.

I like it.

Well, most of it.

“Carney,” I say darkly.

Her eyes widen, my tone catching her off guard when her mind is on getting the paperwork signed. “You’re a Carney now. Jessica Elizabeth Victoria Kensington Carney. But I prefer Jessica Carney.”

Raised eyebrows and a look of confusion say, “are you serious?”

I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. Some part of me recognizes I should ask, not assume. Not demand. But a bigger part – the dumber, possessive, male part – wants something different.

To claim her.

To mark her.

To protect and possess her.

Callan steps over, trying to read the temperature between us. “Does this even matter?”

He sounds perplexed. Of course he does. The deed is done, the box is checked on the list. If we can just get through the reception without our father pissing off anyone or our mother having an emotional meltdown, it’s a success and he’s already on to the next thing on his to-do list in taking over the world.

“It matters,” I growl, instantly annoyed at the roughness in my voice.

What the fuck?

Jessica watches me. Not in fear, like I assume, but assessing. I remember the cold, assessing stare of her mother. This has a different quality, but it’s a reminder that’s she intelligent and I need to watch my back until I know we’re on the same side.

She gives a little nod with a tight smile, and signs “Jessica Carney.”

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