Page 42 of Corrupted Bride

Bass is tall. He draws my attention like nothing before. His dark tattoos press against his throat, his hands, his chest. His suit is fitted and perfect, custom-made for his muscular, athletic body. But it’s his eyes that really capture me: they’re so dark, so expressive. They widen as I come closer and, I swear, he’s excited, he likes this, he can’t stop looking at me like I’m the only woman in the world, and my awareness shrinks until it’s only the two of us. Cruz hands me off, and I’m left with Bass, my hands sliding into his, feeling the rough calluses and the worn wrinkles in his palms, as the priest begins to speak.

“Have you come here freely and without reservation?”

Bass answers first. “Yes, I have,” he says, and everyone looks at me.

Scream? Cry? Rip my dress?

No, might as well lie.

“Yes,” I say, and my voice is small.

But Bass squeezes my hands because he knows, everyone knows.

We say the vows. We exchange the rings. The priest says the prayers and performs his blessing. All through it, Bass doesn’t let me go, not for a single moment.

I should be careening. This might be the lowest moment of my life. Surely the second worst at least. I should feel like I’m crumbling, but for some reason, I find comfort in Bass, in the way he watches me carefully, obsessively, studying my lips, holding my fingers tight, speaking first and guiding me. Until we reach the end and the priest spreads his arms dramatically gesturing out at the gathered people.

“I present to you all Mr. and Mrs. Bastiano Serafino. Bass, you may kiss the bride.”

His mouth moves to mine. I go limp against him, but it doesn’t matter. His strong arms hold me up and he kisses me deeply and intensely, but only for moments, before his mouth parts pressing to the side of my cheek⁠—

“Now you’re all mine, Marisol,” he whispers in my ear. “Smile and make them think you love it.”

I don’t know why or what the hell he’s playing, but when we pull apart, I plaster the biggest smirk on my face as I lean against my new husband and the crowd around us breaks down into applause.

13

BASS

Weddings are exhausting. Especially my own.

I spend the evening shaking hands, engaging in conversation, and making sure my wife doesn’t try to sneak away. She plays nice though and dutifully follows me around, smiling as much as she can, even if there’s no joy behind her hollow eyes.

If it’s bad for me, it’s much worse for her, and I get Mari out of there as early as I reasonably can, but it’s still pushing ten at night when the first guests start leaving the ranch property and I’m able to slip her through the massive house.

“I hope you’re not trying to take advantage of the bride on her wedding night,” she says jokingly as I show her to the second floor and the back wing of the structure.

“Not unless you ask very nicely.” I push open the doors to the master suite and gesture for her to enter. “Welcome home.”

She hesitates in the doorway. I watch her reaction and it doesn’t let me down. The room is large and open, a big four-poster bed against one wall, a fireplace on another, with a bathroom off to the left and a closet to the right. Tall windows overlook the property and there’s a balcony perfect for early morning coffee and pink-tinted sunrises. The decorations are probably more masculine than she’s used to—mostly blacks, grays, dark greens, and dark blues—with silk sheets and oil paintings of cattle.

“This is your room?” she asks, sounding shy, which would be funny if it weren’t for the fact that she’s never been in here before, and now she’s supposed to be my wife.

The fucking absurdity of it all.

“For a while now.” I walk to a desk against the far wall and crack open a good bottle of brandy. I pour two moderate drinks and offer her one. She accepts, but doesn’t sip.

“I figured you’d live somewhere else.”

“I have a condo in Austin, but there’s a reason I stayed at the hotel.”

“Right. I knew that.” She sucks in a breath and blows it out. “What about your brothers?”

“Nico comes and goes. Vince stays in the city. This place is mostly me, my mother, and Lia when she’s not at school, plus the staff that runs the grounds.”

“It’s a working ranch.”

“Mostly, anyway.”