Page 136 of Destined for the Devil
"I don't want a wedding or a party. I just want to get married, and that's it,” she whispered back, her eyes shut and her arms wrapped tightly around me. "Let's just go to city hall. I'll wear a white dress. You can take it off at the end of the night.” She giggled, and I agreed withouthesitation, willing to do anything for and with her.
We did just that.
The next day, Isla headed out and found a dress she liked. She emerged from our room, and my eyes could barely take it all in. A white, knee-length dress with delicate straps and a thigh-high split. Fuck, I almost fell over. Her beautiful hair was styled in a relaxed wave, and she tucked a diamond clip to keep it up and add a bit of sparkle. But most importantly, she glowed with happiness.
We stopped by the florist down the street, and Isla picked out a small bouquet of white daisies—simple, pure, and bright. I smiled, knowing she’d be drawn to exactly that.
"You look gorgeous!" The florist gushed. "You know, this flower represents innocence and pure and true love."
"That's what my love is like." Isla smiled at the older lady and turned back to me with the little bouquet.
My wife. She would be my wife. Forever mine, nothing could prevent it now.
Our last stop was at a jewelry store a few streets over, where Isla and I picked a simple gold band for me. Her ring was already in my pocket, and I liked the way the gold looked when I tried it on. It worked so well on my inked finger—her name right beneath the ring.
At city hall, we both signed the paperwork, her smile forever etched in my mind. I slid the diamond wedding band on her finger, and she slid the gold one onto mine.
And that was it. She was mine. Forever.
I had never felt more accomplished in my entire life. Nothing else mattered.Nothingelse meant anything.
Only her and me together.
58
no tears, no flowers
Isla
TheeventsinItalyshook me to my core, like I’d been through an armed conflict. Is that what war veterans went through? I was always on the verge of tears, like my heart and soul had been severely bruised.
Roman spent time recovering, and I was there every step of the way. Besides needing glasses and earning a bad-ass scar on his stomach, he looked the same. I couldn’t fucking get enough of him in glasses. Why were men in glasses so hot?
He looked so strict, like a hot professor who was ready to bend me over his knee and spank me for disobedience—just what I wanted. The nerdy look was the perfect juxtaposition to his inked skin.
We spent quiet time together, both of us recovering, trying to recalibrate after the shock of being ripped apart. We spoke in soft voices, went for long walks, and watched calm movies together on the couch.
I’d cook his favorite meals, and for the first time ever, he read me his love poems. He had real talent—the words he wrote and spoke would tug at every single emotion I possessed. I sobbed into my hands, a mess each time he shared.
And our wedding was the most joyous day of my life. It was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Every day with him was the best thing that had ever happened to me.
It was a moment for us alone—quiet, unassuming, andours. Simple, yet magical. I wanted only him, without guests, speeches, or pressure.
Somehow, a newbie photographer spotted us outside city hall and pleaded to take some photos. I was apprehensive because the last month shattered my trust in people, but then I realized I’d have no memories of this day. So I said yes, and the photos he delivered were outstanding. Roman and I lookedfucking gorgeoustogether, and now, we’d have something to show our kids.
At the end of the most memorable day, Roman poured me champagne, his little smile making me fall in love with him harder. “I thought you said I was a dangerous drunk?” I teased as he passed me the flute and clinked his glass with mine.
“No.” He leaned in and wrapped his arm around me. “You’re just dangerous. You don’t need alcohol for that.” His sweet lips met mine, sending sparkles through all of me like always.
Our first dance was in his living room.Ourliving room. His apartment would forever be the place where my life changed. He carried me in here when I couldn’t walk, incoherent and in pain. This was the place he made me watch him fuck someone else. This was where I cooked him dinner like we were a married couple, before knowing anything about him.
This was the place where he gifted me unforgettable orgasms, changing my sex life forever. This was where I fell in love with him.
I didn't think I could love anyone as much as I loved him. I didn't think that kind of love existed. It was just us in the universe; there was nothing and no one else.
The thin straps of my dress slid off my shoulders, Roman’s fingers ghosting on my skin. Rough and filthy was our default, but our wedding night was different. It was sacred.
It was slow. It was sensual. I unbuttoned his white shirt, all our movements as if in slow motion. His scent, his eyes, his body…put me in a coma of lust and love.
