Page 40 of Bride on the Dotted Line

Guests stream in on either side of us, talking, laughing, and snapping photos. Sienna is at my elbow, looking incredible in a smooth, red gown that flows over the steps behind us. The way the fabric bunches above her ass makes my brain delete itself, andI shouldn’t have kissed her.

“Ready for this?” I ask.

Her gaze slides in my direction. When she’s not wearing heels, she’s only as tall as my upper arm, but tonight our eyes are meeting at shoulder height. “Why don’t you hold my hand, and we’ll find out?”

That little rasp in her voice coils a hot, tight feeling behind my dick. I keep my expression as neutral as possible.I shouldn’t have …

“Okay.” I twine her fingers in mine. “Let’s go.”

The ballroom is decked out in glitzy silver and crystal, shining centerpieces dotting the room. Massive chandeliers cast ripples of light across Sienna’s face, and elaborate flower arrangements adorn the walls and doorways. A champagne tower surrounded by bottles stands in the corner next to a long bar.

“Wow,” Sienna says, brows sloping at the huge, burbling water arrangement taking up the opposite wall. “Rich people.”

“Rich people,” I agree with a grin.

We’re fashionably late; the space is already filled with guests standing around in their best gowns and suits. Beneath the din of conversation and the clink of glasses, I catch whispers erupting around us.

“Is that Nick Harwood?”

“The rumors are true.”

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

My pulse is pummeling the inside of my wrist. How long has it been since I entered a room like this with a woman? After Roderick’s rumors made me the town scumbag, I started going stag tothese kinds of events—I don’t want to tarnish some unfortunate girl’s image. But tonight, I’m with Sienna, and she owns the room with her signature, confident authority.

People automatically step to the side as she leads us to the bar, and I can’t help but think,that’s right.

She’s with me.

We order drinks, and as we exchange pleasantries with the bartender, I give the reigns I’ve been holding myself in some slack. I lean in and brush my lips against her temple. Her vanilla scent fills my nose.

A camera across the room clicks.

“Nervous?” I say as the bartender prepares our drinks.

She tilts her head into mine. “You wish, Mr. Harwood.”

I hope she never stops calling me that. “Our shareholders are here already.” They’re across the room, sitting around their table with plates of hors d'oeuvres and crystalline glasses of wine. My father is among them, surveying the dance floor with his eyes narrowed.

“Should I go introduce myself?” she says.

My hand skates across her lower back, and I notice that her arms are covered in goosebumps. Maybe I’ll ask the staff to turn up the thermostat. “Good luck. I’ll bring you your drink.”

The camera clicks again, and Sienna winks at me, adjusting the tiny straps of her gown. I watch as she walks away, sashaying around the edge of the dance floor toward my father’s table, hips swaying.

She’s unreal.

It’s not real.

When our drinks arrive, I take a long pull from my whiskey, letting the alcohol pin me back to Earth.I shouldn’t have kissed her. I’ve been repeating that to myself a hundred times a day, because even though it was our wedding, we were pronounced husband and wife, and we were contractually obligated, I shouldn’t have done it.

The memory of her lips on mine haunts me. It’s a fucking ghost, paying rent in my head, making me have insane ideas. Thoughts about protecting her, providing for her, being the only person that sees her first thing in the morning or knows how she sounds when she comes apart at night.

I’ve never had thoughts like that before.

I’m losing my goddamn mind.

I watch her shaking the shareholders’ hands across the room. Her smile is confident, her posture perfect. She doesn’t need my protection, my attention, or me. I’m going to secure my father’s company so that our contract can be fulfilled, and her family can pay their debts—that’s what she needs.

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