Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
When we made it to Marcus’ beachside mansion, the judge he had invited to perform the civil ceremony in private was already waiting in his living room. The older man glanced at me and sighed. “I can wait for a few more minutes so you can have time to freshen up.”
“T-thank you,” I stammered.
A maid directed me to the room that had been prepared for my use, and an embarrassed gasp escaped me when I caught sight of my reflection on the full-length mirror.
Craaaaap!
My hair looked like it had been struck by a tornado, my lips badly swollen, and the buttons of my blouse completely mismatched.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
First there was the scene at his grandmother’s funeral, then the scream fest at his office, and now this. Was marriage to Marcus Ravelli destined to turn me into the most infamous sexpot?
After taking a quick shower, I entered the walk-in closet, and it was as Marcus exactly promised. Everything I had purchased online this afternoon was waiting for me: the pearl barrettes for my hair were laid out on the vanity table, my white silk dress was hanging on a clothes rack, and below it were the limited-edition Valentino heels that I had begged one of my America-based cousins, who had connections in the fashion industry, to get for me.
Almost an hour had passed by the time I made my way downstairs, with the same maid - Ginger – escorting me to the garden at the back.
An exclamation of surprised pleasure escaped me. The garden had also been outfitted for the wedding, with a red carpet laid out all the way to the floral arbor. In it was the judge, and waiting by the steps was Marcus, breathtakingly gorgeous in a tux.
Standing at one side was a rather famous quintet, and when they started playing Pachelbel’s Canon in D, I took it as my cue to walk down the aisle.
Was this really happening?
Willem was going to kill me.
Was I really going to marry Marcus Ravelli?
Willem was absolutely going to kill me.
By the time I reached Marcus’ side, I was shaking with fear and uncertainty.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
This was really happening.
But then Marcus took my hand in his, and his heat melted the ice around me. “There’s nothing to fear, bambini.” His low, deep, voice was reassurance in itself – its familiar, accented cadence making me close my eyes.
His hand tightened. Everything’s going to be alright.
And I held his hand just as tightly. I know.
Twelve
There were candles and rose petals everywhere, and the whole room looked just too magical and beautiful I was seriously tempted to cry.
When Marcus made me face him, his fingers touching the corner of my eyes, it was only then I realized that the tears had already started falling.
Marcus whispered, “Why the tears, bambina?”
“Because,” I choked, “you make me feel beautiful and special, and I’m not used—-” The rest of my words was lost in his kiss.
And it was exactly what I wanted, the kind that I might never have the words for.
Hard and deep, brutal and savage in its passion—-
Marcus letting me know that he wanted me so much he had come undone, his civilized core laid to waste.
When he lifted his head, he said hoarsely, “This is only the start.” His hands cupped my face. “You know that, do you not?”
“Si.”
A groan escaped him, and then he was kissing me again, harder than ever, and it was the sweetest agony. I never wanted it to end.
We began moving towards the bed, Marcus walking backwards, dragging me with him without breaking the kiss. Our hands started to rush around each other’s bodies, both of us desperate to discard our clothes.
When I struggled with his bowtie, he simply wrenched it off, and I choked on a laugh against his lips. His jacket fell to the floor along with my panties, and he hauled me close to unzip the back of my dress while I worked furiously on the buttons of his blouse.
“Get out of your dress,” he grated out.
I didn’t have to be told twice, and the silky fabric fell to the floor at the same time his shirt and pants did. I reached for his briefs, and in another moment that was off, too.
And then we were naked—-
He was bronze and hard all over, and I wondered fleetingly how it could be. Did that mean he swam and sunbathed nude? The thought was agonizing, fanning the fires of both lust and jealousy, but somehow I found myself savoring the pain of it.
I hated the thought that other women might have seen Marcus Ravelli naked, but oh, the thought that this man was now mine—-
A sense of possessiveness washed over me. They could look all they want, but it was all they could ever do.
Marcus crooked a finger towards me, and I moved towards him with shaking legs.