She nodded. “I took four years of dance. My mother said I had to learn.”
I held up three fingers to the band and they nodded and the wedding planner lowered the lights. For a moment it was just us and the breath between our bodies and then the band struck up a Viennese waltz.
She was a little wooden at first, but then she leaned into me as she warmed up. As the music swirled on, her body became pliant in my arms and she allowed me to guide her through the movements. There was a moment when I lifted her in the air as I turned and I saw her face and it almost broke my shell wide open. Something about the way her dark eyes glittered and her face flushed had me right on the edge.
The music ended and there was a round of applause, but there were more whispers than anything else. I led her off the dance floor and back to our table with my hand on her lower back. The last thing I wanted was for Romano to try to claim the next dance with her. She didn’t need that kind of stress on her wedding day.
“You can dance,” she said breathlessly.
“My mother taught me. It was one of her required hallmarks of a gentleman that she insisted Duran and I learn,” I said. “That and how to use the correct fork, dress properly, and speak French.”
“No, you can really dance. Like…really dance.” Her dark eyes were still glazed with excitement. “I don’t think any of my instructors ever danced with me like that.”
“I certainly hope they didn’t.” I kept my face impassive.
She ran her tongue over her lower lip and I caught a hint of desire in her eyes, but she dropped her lids and concealed it. “Wait, so you can speak French too?”
“I can. Why?”
She took a sip from her champagne. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Apparently, I can’t get my wife to feel comfortable at her wedding reception,” I said.
She looked guilty, which wasn’t my intention, and dipped her head. “I’m sorry, I’m just not used to being the center of attention. It makes me anxious.”
“Well, let’s just get through the rest of this reception as quickly as we can then,” I said lightly.
The evening wore on and drink flowed until the men were loosening their collars and their women were falling asleep in their chairs. Then came the expected, but not welcome, uncomfortable calling for me to do my duty and bed my wife. Olivia and I sat at the head table as I sipped my cognac and she turned bright pink at the offending cries. I’d known this would happen, but I’d forgotten to warn her how crude the men could be at the end of a night of drinking.
“We should go,” I murmured in her ear. “It’s just upstairs.”
“We’re not going back to the mansion?” she asked.
“This is one of the outfit’s hotels and they’ve kept the bridal suite reserved for us. It’s only customary and polite we stay here.”
Our guests had gathered by the door, urging us to our feet. I led my wife past them, my hand firm on her lower back, as lewd remarks swirled around us. Her eyes were downcast and a mortified blush stained her cheeks and throat. As we paused at the door and I raised a hand in farewell, I caught Romano’s gaze from where he stood by the bar. There was a glitter of raw jealousy in his eyes.
Chapter Eight
Olivia
The bridal suite was beautiful. The living area was set with ivory couches, a marble coffee table, and a baby grand in the corner by the windows draped in silk curtains. Lucien slid the lock down and took my hand, his palm rough and dry beneath my cold fingers, and led me toward the bedroom.
The bedroom matched the living area in elegance and opulence. Heart hammering, I hovered near the door as Lucien went to the dresser on the far side and began taking off his watch and jacket. He’d worn all black for the wedding—black shirt, tie, vest, and jacket, and it suited him. My first impression of him when I saw him at the front of the church was of steel and ice.
“Would you like to shower?” he asked.
I nodded. “I might need help getting out of this dress,” I said quietly.
He took off his vest and crossed over to where I stood, taking my upper arm and turning me around to face away from him. His fingers brushed the bare skin between my shoulder blades as he unfastened the clasp at the top and slid the zipper down to the small of my back. A tingling shiver went through me. For a moment, I thought he might brush the fine hairs from my neck and kiss it, but then he stepped away.
He hadn’t cracked and shown any emotion this whole time, not even when I’d walked up the isle. When he’d taken my breath away with that completely unexpected dance, I’d thought I’d caught a flicker of something behind his eyes, but then he drew the shutters closed once more.
I went into the bathroom and slipped out of the gown and laid it over the chair in the corner. Then I stepped in the shower and washed with shaking, anxious hands and dried off. There was a vial of creamy lotion on the sink and I spent a long time rubbing it into my skin, making sure every inch of my body was soft.
Iris had packed me a bag that she said was for the wedding night, but I hadn’t opened it yet. I unzipped it and found a silk slip in pure white with a lace thong to match. Underneath it was a little glass vial of honeysuckle perfume and a bottle of lubricant. Surprised, I picked it up and found a note taped to the back.
Use this even if you don’t think you need it the first time around. And remember to relax and tell him what feels good for you. You deserve for it to be good! X