Page 48 of Bound to the Daddy

“Since we’ve had a lot of complaints about this not being a proper ceremony because of the lack of rings, we’ve decided to add it in. So, at this point in the ceremony, you will exchange the rings you picked out earlier.”

Stephanie’s fingers tremble as she fishes the band out from her bouquet. It will be very interesting to see what she’s chosen for me. Though I’m not privy to her selections, I’m sure she found a good one. A ring fit for a Rothsbourne.

The thick silver band looks solid and heavy. In the center, a ring of emeralds, the same shade as her eyes, twinkle under the lights. I couldn’t have picked better if I had been there in person.

“Very lovely choice, my bride. Here.” I extend my hand. “Slide it on me. Claim me as yours.”

Again, that light blush flushes her face, making my cock twitch behind the fabric of the expensive suit. Her fingers fumble a bit, and I reach out, clasping her arm to help her steady. It’s as if my touch alone melts away the anxiety I feel dripping off of her.

As I glance down at her small, delicate hands, I notice her ragged nails. Such an anxious, needy mess. Seems as if I haven’t done nearly enough to make her feel safe. No matter. All that will change once I fully claim her as mine.

Choosing to ignore the indiscretion, I smile down at my precious omega, doing my best to put her at ease. “Shall I show you yours?”

“Yes, please.” Her voice is so soft, so light and airy, as if she’s nearly breathless.

Digging into my pocket, I pull out a ring suited for a Rothsbourne. Though it’s not large and gaudy, the stones themselves make it worth millions. Though I had the option of choosing any of the rings they had there for free, I wanted something personal, something just for Stephanie.

Her gasp says it all. The way her eyes light up, shining as she takes in the emerald nestled among the diamonds, nearly takes my breath away. This is what makes all of it perfect.

Once the ring is on her finger, I hold her hand up to her eyes. “A perfect match. Who knew?”

“Yes,” she murmurs. “And it pairs so well with the one I picked out for you. A perfect match.”

“Indeed.” Turning to the officiant, I give him a wide grin. “Anything else?”

His face is drawn and pale, as if he can’t wait to be rid of us. “Mr. Rothsbourne and Miss Taylor. I now pronounce you husband and wife. Though you are not required to kiss, you may do so if you wish.”

“Oh,” I growl. “I wish.”

Before Stephanie has a chance to protest, I scoop her up into my arms and slide my lips over hers. She gasps, parting for me, allowing me to slip my tongue inside. This kiss isn’t some gentle lover’s kiss. It’s consuming, owning, branding.

She squirms beneath me but does not get away. Oh no. My little omega tries to get even closer, pressing herself against me as need washes over her, filling the room with her potent scent. I need to get her out of here. There’s enough Alphas in the room that I worry for her safety if she goes into heat right now.

“Are we done?”

“Yes,” the officiant says with a long-suffering sigh. “Go forth and be merry.”

Without wasting another second, I scoop Stephanie up in my arms and take her out of the chapel. Shouts of well wishes follow us in our wake as she burrows deeper into my chest. Anxiety pours off of her, nearly smothering me with its sickly, cloying scent.

When we get to the car, I shove her inside and wait for the driver to close us in before gathering her face in my hands and kissing her again. “God, Steph, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

She wrenches free and pulls back, her eyes wide with fear. “No. No, this is all wrong. It was supposed to be Brody at the end of the aisle.”

Frowning, I sit back in my seat and fiddle with the cufflinks at my wrist. “You honestly think he would make you happy? That you wouldn’t be begging for a divorce after the six months? No, my dear. This is a far better arrangement.”

“But… You… You didn’t tell me you got a text.”

“You didn’t tell me either. I suppose that makes us even.”

“None of this makes any sense.” She threads her hands through her hair and begins plucking out the pins. With each strand she releases, it falls down around her face, framing it ever so sweetly.

“It doesn’t?” I tease. “Not at all?”

Pausing, she looks down at her hand, studying the ring. “How did you know? No one is supposed to know.”

“And what makes you think I do?”

“The ring. How did you pick out a ring that matched my eyes if you thought you were marrying a stranger?”

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