It doesn’t fully settle in that we got married until we’re back at the hotel, and I lower my sleeping bride onto the kingsize bed. She passed out during the ride back to the hotel.
Sitting down next to her, I brush the silky black strands away from her face. “You’re probably going to want to kill me tomorrow.” I lean forward until my face hovers over hers. “But what I want, I get, and there’s no other woman I’d choose to be my wife.”
Mariya groans and turns onto her side to snuggle into a pillow.
I drink in the sight of her parted lips, her creamy skin, her soft hair. She’s absolutely vulnerable right now, and it makes a surge of power fill my chest.
She’s mine to protect.
My lips curve up in a satisfactory smile as I brush my fingers over her flushed cheek.
Getting up, I inhale deeply before I undress down to my boxers. I take a moment to splash water over my face and brush my teeth before I crawl into bed behind Mariya.
Wrapping an arm around my wife, I gently pull her to me. I press a kiss to the back of her neck, then whisper, “I know I did a shitty thing and should at the very least feel sorry, but I don’t. With time you’ll get used to being my wife. There’s no other way because now that I have you, I’ll never let you go.” My lips brush over the soft skin of her neck again. “And even though I’ll have to pretend that I don’t know you love me, I’ll wait patiently to hear you say those words to me again.”
Mariya lets out a sleepy groan and snuggles closer to me, and the moment feels so fucking perfect, I struggle to keep from crushing her to me.
Holding the love of my life, I close my eyes. “Ti amo.”
Chapter 7
Mariya
A pulsing ache in my head wakes me up. Feeling like roadkill, I let out a groan as a wave of nausea hits.
“Dear God,” I mumble.
Throwing the covers back, I almost fall out of the bed. Even my steps feel loud as I stumble to the bathroom.
Jesus, how much did I drink?
I can’t remember much of the night before.
I squint at the toilet, not sure whether I actually need it. I wait a good minute before deciding to brush the horrific taste from my mouth.
Still feeling awful, I shower, and keeping the water cool helps to clear my head a little. After I’ve dried my body, I wrap a towel around me and look in the mirror.
I look like death.
Something sparkles on my hand, and my eyes lower to the enormous diamond on my ring finger.
Wha…
I start to blink faster.
OH.
My breathing speeds up.
MY.
My legs go numb, and I brace myself on the counter with my free hand.
GOD.
Shocked out of my mind and struggling with the hangover from hell, I can only stare at the ring on my finger.
What did I do?
More importantly, who did I do it with?
Jesus, did I get married?
The pulsing ache in my head increases tenfold as I try to recall what happened last night, but the last I remember was Viktor leaving the club.
Rushing into the bedroom to get dressed so I can get to the bottom of what happened last night, I come to a sudden stop when I see Luca standing with two cups of coffee by the foot of the bed.
He’s dressed in a crisp blue suit, his eyes resting cautiously on me.
“Ahh…” My tongue darts out to wet my lips, and it has Luca holding one of the cups out to me. When I take the beverage from him, I ask, “What happened last night? I can’t remember anything after Viktor left.”
He takes a sip of his coffee, then my eyes widen at seeing the black band on his ring finger.
Mother of God.
Shocked prickles spread over every inch of my skin.
“The last I remember, I was having drinks with you,” he says.
My eyes dart to the ruffled sheets, then back to the ring on Luca’s finger.
Did we…?
“Did we…” I inhale deeper. “Did…?” My breaths come faster, then I gasp, “You and me?”
Reaching into his breast pocket, he removes a piece of paper and holds it out for me to take. I set the cup down on a table, my eyes jumping between Luca’s indifferent expression and the paper as I take it.
Opening the document, it’s to see both our names on a marriage certificate.
Oh, God.
Breathe.
My eyes dart back to Luca’s face, and my voice is nothing more than a shocked whisper. “We got married?”
With numb legs, I move to the side of the bed and sit down, staring at the marble tiles beneath my bare feet while clutching the towel with one hand and the marriage license with the other.