Page 67 of His Nephew's Ex
I look down at the chocolate soufflé waiting on the table, then at the ring adorning my finger, then toward the doorway where my future husband disappeared with promises of possession that make my entire body hum with anticipation.
Ten minutes.
The possibilities of what he might do to me in our bedroom make my hands shake as I lift the spoon, and I realize with crystalline clarity that these might be the longest ten minutes of my life.
22
Loriana
My heart pounds as I climb the cold marble steps, the sound bouncing off the mansion’s walls. Ten minutes ago, I said yes. Now his ring weighs down my hand, and there’s no going back.
His wife. The thought makes me burn with want, desire, and lust, even waking up parts of me I never knew existed.
I freeze at our bedroom door, fingers shaking as they hover near the handle. Something waits for me beyond this threshold—something that will reshape us completely. The very air hums with unspoken intentions, and my heart races with a cocktail of terror and longing I can’t untangle.
When courage finally moves my hand to open the door, the world narrows to a single, breathless moment.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, stepping into what looks like a fairy tale brought to life.
The entire room has been transformed. Dozens of ivory balloons drift against the ceiling like captured clouds. Their ribbons hang down halfway, and several surfaces are decorated with rose petals. Candles burn on every other surface—the dresser, the nightstands, the windowsills—casting everything in a golden light that makes the scattered petals resemble drops of blood and fire.
It’s romance cranked to eleven, over-the-top, and absolutely breathtaking.
“You did all this?” I turn to find Simeone standing beside the windows, still wearing his tuxedo but with his jacket discarded and his bow tie hanging loose around his neck. The candlelight catches the silver in his hair, making him look like something carved from marble and moonlight.
“Every balloon, every petal, every candle.” His voice carries a note of uncertainty I’ve never heard before. “I know it’s excessive—”
“It’s perfect.” The words slip out before I can stop them, honest and raw. “Completely, ridiculously, overwhelmingly perfect.”
Relief floods his features, and I realize he was genuinely worried I might think it was too much. This man, who commands empires and ends lives with a word, was nervous about whether his romantic gesture would please me.
“I wanted tonight to be special,” he says, moving toward me with that fluid grace that never fails to make my mouth go dry. “Our first time as an engaged couple. Our first time when you officially agreed to be mine. Our first time with no barriers between us.”
“No barriers?” I arch an eyebrow, trying to maintain some semblance of control despite the way my body is already humming with awareness. “What makes you think there were barriers before?”
“Because you were still fighting this. Fighting me. Fighting what burns between us.” He stops close enough that I can smell his cologne, feel the heat radiating from his skin. “Tonight, you’re choosing to be here. Choosing to be mine.”
The possessive declaration should irritate me, but instead it sends heat pooling low in my belly. “And what exactly does being yours entail?”
His smile is pure sin, sharp and dangerous and absolutely devastating. “Everything you can handle,stellina. And then a little more.”
I swallow hard, hyperaware of how alone we are in this candlelit sanctuary he’s created. “Simeone—”
“Do you know what I realized tonight?” He moves closer, backing me toward the bed with slow, deliberate steps. “You’ve never been properly romanced. That pathetic excuse for a relationship with my nephew—he never gave you flowers, never planned special evenings, never made you feel like a queen.”
“How do you know what he did or didn’t do?”
“Because I know what you deserve.” His hands come up to frame my face with infinite gentleness. “And you deserve everything,stellina. Every romantic gesture, every beautiful moment, every indication that you’re precious beyond measure.”
The sincerity in his voice makes my chest tight with emotion. “Our relationship isn’t exactly conventional.”
“No, it’s not.” His thumbs stroke across my cheekbones, and I have to fight not to lean into the touch. “It started with protection, escalated to passion, and evolved into something neither of us expected. But unconventional doesn’t mean unromantic.”
“So this is you being romantic?” I gesture around the transformed bedroom, trying to keep my voice light despite the way my heart is hammering against my ribs.
“This is me giving you everything within my power to give.” His voice drops to that whisper that makes my toes curl. “If you want to be romanced, you’ll be romanced. If you want to be cherished, you’ll be cherished. If you want to be worshipped like the goddess you are, then that’s exactly what will happen.”
The intensity of his declaration makes my knees weak. “And what if I want to be claimed? Possessed? Marked so thoroughly that I forget my own name?”
