“Desperate. You and Satan found my weakness and used it ruthlessly.”
Her decades-old craving for her father’s approval. Her ambition. Her steadfast loyalty to Reservoir. “I’m going to make you happy.”
“For the next year, you can try, but I don’t see it.” She presses her lips together. “What happens next?”
“We’re spending the rest of the day and tonight in Maxon and Keeley’s honeymoon suite. Then we’ll fly back to Dallas tomorrow evening.” I resent the fuck out of the fact business can’t wait a week or two so we could have a proper honeymoon.
I’ll make it up to her later.
“I meant for the next year. Where are we living? What will we tell people when we split up?”
Since I have very strong ideas about all that, I just smile and caress my palm up her spine, bared by the backless dress. “That’s for later. Leave it to me. Just be in the present now.”
She sighs. “I’m not good at that.”
Because she’s constantly got her eye on the future. Ambitious people often do. But if she’s already focused on the day we split up and she can be rid of me, how can she ever see me and what we might have together enough to want to stay?
The sex between us is going to have to be really damn good. Luckily, I don’t think that will be a problem. But that won’t be enough. Somehow, I have to work my way into her heart.
That’s a much taller order. Good thing I’m looking forward to the challenge.
All too soon, the song ends. I take advantage of the last few moments Sloan is in my arms to kiss her again before we cut the cake, toss the bouquet, and start saying goodbye to our guests. Briefly, the crowd separates us. I promise my mother we’ll meet her tomorrow morning for breakfast, thank the Reed family for everything they did to make this day possible, then turn to find my bride so we can make our escape.
She’s been cornered by Bruce Rawson, whose fingers grip her arm as he says something low and emphatic right in her face.
The damn bastard waited until my back was turned to get inside her head and twist her up again.
That’s not fucking happening. I charge across the space.
“What are you saying, sir?” she murmurs.
Sir. Not Dad—or even anything familiar—on her wedding day. Asshole. After he let his worthless son fire her, she still shows him deference. She still gives a shit about him.
I get it; when caring is a habit, breaking it is tough. But to see her try so earnestly with Rawson, who doesn’t deserve it, grates on my last nerve.
I fucking hurt for her.
I step between them to disrupt his hold and subtly shift, putting her behind me. “Mr. Rawson, Sloan and I didn’t invite you to our wedding. I’d rather not cause the kind of scene necessary to ask you to leave.”
“Is it a crime now to want to see my daughter get married?”
Suddenly he’s interested in playing parent? “You did. If you have something to say to her, say it now. I’ll wait.”
The old man’s face tightens before he gives my wife a long last look. “I’ve said everything I need to. Good luck, Sloan.” Then he turns to me. “And you, fucking leave my company alone.”
I bend until we’re eye to eye, and I snarl in his face. “You signed the contract, so that ship has sailed. You gave Shane your blind trust to run the company and he did—right into the ground. Even when Sloan tried to tell you he was extracting the organization’s profits and using them as his party fund, you wouldn’t hear of your self-absorbed son being less than perfect. I had to prove it to you in black and white. If you had listened to Sloan sooner—or better yet, promoted her since she gives a shit about Reservoir—you’d be in a better position. Now it’s too late. And it’s past time for you to go.” I grab the old man by the shirt front. “If you care about Sloan at all, make amends after I assume leadership of Reservoir. But if you ever make her cry again, be warned. I know a thousand ways to bury you professionally. I won’t hesitate to use each and every one. Get out.”
Maxon, who’s closest to our group, takes Rawson by the arm and drags him past the gawking, confused wedding guests to the adjacent parking lot. Griff and Noah call him an Uber and stand to wait with him.
When I turn to look at my wife, she’s shaken. “Are you okay? What did he want?”
A frown furrows between her brows. “Nothing you want to hear. I don’t understand why he came.”
I do. Sloan is his last hope of saving Reservoir. But barring a miracle, they can’t possibly come up with enough cash to bail themselves out before Thursday. “We can talk about it—”
“I’d rather not.”
If it’s going to upset her, I’d rather not, either. Today is about us, but… “Sloan, baby…”