Page 60 of The Wrong Billionaire
My eyes meet hers. Our gazes lock, and it’s as if someone has attached jump leads to us. A jolt shoots through me, and I can see it’s had the same effect on her.
She’s mine.
Something settles inside me. I’m never letting her go.
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” the celebrant says. She smiles. “You may kiss the bride.”
Wren’s eyes flare as I move toward her. I slide a hand to the nape of her neck, heart racing.
“My wife,” I murmur.
Her eyelids flutter. Her pink lips shine in the sunlight. I study them for a few seconds, and she moistens them with the tip of her tongue. Smiling, I dip my head and kiss her. Everyone cheers, and I hear Caesar say, “All right, bro. Get a room.”
I ignore him. I’ve waited ten years for this. I wrap my arms around her and continue to kiss her, holding her tightly until everyone starts laughing and whistling. When we finally break apart, she’s flushed and smiling, and I’m the happiest man in the world.
*
The rest of the day blurs into one long, enjoyable party. There’s food, and champagne, and speeches, and I hold Wren in my arms and look into her eyes as we have the first dance, with everyone watching.
I note every little detail about her appearance. The way her creamy skin shows through the lace on her bodice. How the ribbons on the circlet that rests on her blonde hair lift in the summer breeze. The smell of her perfume, something light and flowery, stirring my senses. I can’t take my eyes off her.
All evening, I watch her dancing, and greeting guests, and all I can think about is how it’s going to feel to be able to kiss her properly, and touch her the way a husband touches his wife.
It’s only as the evening wears on that I begin to suspect something’s awry. Wren is happy—when she’s talking to everyone else. She hugs my father, kisses my mother repeatedly, and laughs with Aurelia and her friends. But as soon as I go near her, her spine stiffens, her breathing quickens, and she falls quiet.
With some envy, I watch her sitting, talking to Caesar. She’s relaxed, using that teasing tone I love so much, reminiscing about something that happened when they were at uni. Their familiarity and friendship make my hands curl into fists. Why isn’t she like that with me?
I ask her to dance a few times, but she’s like a statue in my arms, a smile pinned to her face that doesn’t reach her eyes. I try to pry conversation out of her, but she murmurs short answers, and in the end I let her go back to her friends, the old panic rising inside me again.
It grows dark, and the fairy lights flicker, and the solar lamps glow around the edges of the lawn. Champagne flows like water, and as the hours tick by, I watch her drink glass afterglass. I don’t think she realizes how much she’s drinking. She’s enjoying herself, though, dancing on the grass with Aurelia and her friends, and nobody else seems to have noticed that her smile falters whenever she looks at me, and her hand trembles when she picks up her glass for another mouthful.
Midnight finds me standing at the edge of the garden, watching Wren twirling in the center of the lawn. She looks like a fairy caught in a spell, doomed to dance for all eternity.
“It’s twelve,” Caesar says from beside me. “Are you heading off soon?”
I nod.
He hesitates. Then he adds, “Are you okay?”
“Yep.”
He follows my gaze, and we watch Wren bump into one of the marquee poles and giggle. Caesar laughs. “She’s merry,” he says.
“Yeah.” I watch her tip up her glass and frown to find it empty.
He looks at me. “You’ve got it bad,” he comments. “You haven’t taken your eyes off her all evening.”
I don’t reply, and he smirks.
“Nervous about the wedding night?” he asks. “Need a few tips?”
I throw him a wry look, and he chuckles. “I’ll get Tane to bring the car round.” He walks off.
I finish off my drink and leave the glass on a nearby table, then walk to the middle of the lawn. She’s still twirling, but she stops and stumbles as I reach out and hold her hand. I catch her, sliding an arm around her waist. She’s soft against me, but I feel her stiffen as I pull her close.
Frustrated, I make sure she’s steady, then release her. “Time to go,” I tell her.
She blinks and looks around. “But I want to stay. I’m dancing.”
