Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 135536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
When Daddy stepped aside and I positioned myself in front of him, Romeo surprised me by leaning forward, pressing his lips to my jawline.
Only, he wasn’t kissing my cheek.
That was just a show for our guests.
In reality, Romeo whispered in my ear, “Pull any tricks, and I assure you, your reputation won’t be the only thing I destroy.”
My brain short-circuited for a comeback. Blinking, I recognized the wedding officiant as a local priest from Chapel Falls.
Father Redd began the ceremony.
When my turn came to read from the vow book, I rattled off a wedding speech so cliché and so insincere, I was sure my soon-to-be-husband wanted to vomit from the tackiness.
Romeo breezed through his portion. Behind him, Oliver and Zach stood in designer tuxes.
Zach radiated impatience, flicking his eyes to his watch without lifting his wrist.
Despite his clean-cut charm and lovely manners, something dark lurked beneath his surface. Something just withdrawn enough to hint that he didn’t show his true colors to the world.
Meanwhile, Oliver—an open book full of colorful annotations—stared straight past me to my bridesmaids. If he thought Frankie was fair game, I had news for him, which I’d break right along with his balls.
Father Redd flipped a page in his officiant’s manual. “Do you, Romeo Niccolò Costa, take this woman to be your wife, to live together in holy matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”
Romeo laced his fingers through mine. They were cold and felt like clay. “I do.”
A charming smile slashed his face, dazzling the audience. It looked completely photoshopped.
“And do you, Dallas Maryanne Townsend, take this man to be your husband, to live together in holy matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”
Love and comfort him?
He was lucky not to leave the premises in an ambulance. My new dream was to contribute to his bodily scars with my own art.
“Hmm.”
Father Redd cleared his throat, chuckling. “I’ll take that as a yes?”
“I do.” I spat out the words.
“You may now kiss the bride.”
I didn’t know what to expect. Perhaps a dignified peck to seal the deal. But Romeo Costa was just full of surprises.
Instead, he stepped forward, wrapped my waist with his strong arm, and jerked me into him. With blood-chilling possessiveness, he cupped the front of my throat, dipped my body, and crashed his mouth over mine, exerting punishing force.
The gesture declared one thing—mine.
In the background, people went wild, cheering and whistling. Laughter, music, and feminine voices raving about the iconic kiss filled the venue.
“…as epic as his marriage proposal…”
“…never seen a man so crazy in love…”
“…should be a movie…”
I was limp in his arms, even when his tongue darted out and pried my lips open, confidently licking, playing, and exploring the inside of my mouth.
This was a statement kiss.
A kiss designed to inform the world I was now his property.
Trespassers will be shot. Or worse.
I held my breath, ignored the slithering heat rolling down my spine that demanded I kiss him back, and waited for him to pull away. I refused to give in and participate in this debacle.
“Your submission is sweeter than whipped cream, Mrs. Costa.” He drew back, dragging his nose along the bridge of mine. “How’s life away from civilization? Learned how to make fire with rocks yet?”
My response came in the form of sinking my teeth into his lower lip until the taste of copper filled my mouth and I met the resistance of muscle and flesh.
He used the back of his hand to wipe away the blood, smirking.
“There she is. I was beginning to worry you lost your teeth.”
“You like my teeth?” I pretended to cradle his head, ogling him with mock-adoration. “Good, because you’re about to meet my claws.”
Then, because I wanted badly to hurt him back, I pulled out Madison’s ring, which Frankie had given me earlier, twisting it between my fingers.
“Maybe you need better cameras, hubby. I got hot and bothered while you were MIA, but the fire didn’t come from rocks.”
Was I actually alluding to having an affair with Madison?
It was reckless, dangerous, yet extremely satisfying.
The look on Romeo’s face, of a man on the cusp of starting a war, flooded me with adrenaline.
Refusing to show him how miserable I’d been the last few weeks, I smiled. “Enjoy our wedding.”
The wedding planner herded the guests to the reception area.
Oliver von Bismarck’s mansion boasted an entire full-sized ballroom. I swear, his place made the Shangri-La look like a Motel 6 lobby.
Round tables cloaked in white lace surrounded the dance area. Antique candelabra centerpieces adorned each. Rustic chandeliers, golden fixtures, and dozens of different flowers—all in white—ornamented the room.