Page 14 of Blackbeard
“Yeah, take one for the team,” Spike piped up.
Blackbeard glared at him.
But an expectant pause settled over the room. Everyone knew I was right. Blackbeard was the sensible choice, the right man for the job. I had him cornered.
He sighed.
“When would this marriage take place?”
“The sooner, the better,” Popeye replied. “Since we’re all present and accounted for already, we might as well make it official now.”
Blackbeard raised his eyebrows and blew out a breath of surprise. I could practically see him mourning the death of his bachelorhood in real time.
“Just like that?”
Popeye shrugged.
“Why put it off? Any length of engagement would be a hassle to bog us down and get in the way of what our clubs are after. My Enforcer, Cajun, can act as the officiant. By sunrise, we can put this turf war to rest, while you and my daughter greet the day as husband and wife.”
“Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath, shaking his head, bewildered.
“You wanted someone to make a move, brother,” Kingpin said. “You got your wish.”
A muscle twitched in Blackbeard’s jaw. He flexed his fingers open and closed, causing the tendons in his forearms to contract.
“This is not what I had in mind.”
Cajun stepped forward and pulled a piece of paper and a pen from an inner pocket of his cut. He slapped them onto the table in front of Blackbeard.
“Good news is,” he said. “You don’t have to recite any sappy wedding vows. Just sign your name on the dotted line with Leigh and the deal is done.”
“In other words, romance is dead.”
Blackbeard unfolded the paper and scanned it. Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath, waiting. Then he picked up the pen, rolling it between his fingers.
Come on,I silently pleaded.Come on. Stop dawdling.
After another agonizing moment or two, Blackbeard dragged his gaze up to meet mine. My stomach squeezed as his dark eyes locked on me.
I was supposed to hate him. An enemy of my father. A prominent officer in an opposing club. This same man broke into my apartment with the intent to cause me harm—maybe even to kill me—for payback after shooting up his club’s garage.
There would be no love in this marriage. It was purely for strategic purposes only. I would wear down his defenses, use him to bring down his club, and leave him with nothing except the grief that the Blackjacks were ruined because of him.
But my body had other ideas. The fact that we were on opposing sides seemed to stoke the fire in my blood for him evenmore—knowing he would normally be forbidden, knowing the façade of our marriage wouldn’t last.
I wanted to be fucked until I memorized every ridge and vein of his cock inside me. I wanted the heat of his mouth to brand every inch of my skin.
When I was finished with Blackbeard, I intended to make him utterly delirious with desire for me. And then I would sit back and watch him fall apart as his world crumbled down around him.
Blackbeard brought the pen to the paper. Then he paused and it felt like a lifetime passed before he finally scribbled his name.
Gotcha.
I circled around to stand behind him and plucked the pen from his fingers. Leaning in close enough to brush my breasts against his shoulder, I signed my name next to his. My signature was curly and elegant compared to his firm, regimented block-like letters.
“Congratulations,” I said. “You’re a married man.”
Cajun swept the marriage certificate away and tucked it into his cut. He tossed a pair of wedding rings onto the table with a delicate pinging sound.
