“No.” My nerves are so jittery I can barely keep down that single martini I had on the plane.
“Good. Take off your dress.”
My mouth falls open. “Excuse me? I don’t have anything else to wear. Remember?”
“You won’t need anything to wear for the rest of tonight.” His pale gaze sweeps down my body. Instead of lust, I see annoyance in his eyes.
“I won’t need clothing? Oh…Oh. You mean we’re going to do…that…right now?” My throat constricts. This is all happening too fast.
He looks exasperated. “Yes. As soon as you take off your damn clothes.”
“But what if I…” I can’t think of a valid excuse to delay the inevitable. I just didn’t expect this to happen so soon. But duh, it’s our wedding night.
The brute stares me down. He knows I’m stalling and doesn’t care.Insensitive prick.
I fold my arms, mirroring his pose. “Where are the clothes you bought for me? I don’t see them.”
“They’ll be here in the morning.”
I scoff. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? You left me with nothing to wear tonight out of spite.”
One corner of his mouth twitches, and it’s all the confirmation I need. He’s a real bastard, trying to make me feel vulnerable, and uncomfortable, on everysinglelevel—and he’s succeeding. I can only imagine what the rest of this night will be like. I doubt there’s a gentle bone in his massive, lethal body. He’s going to hurt me, and enjoy every second of it just because this morning my last name wasPontrelli. The name of his enemy.
“Take off the dress. I won’t ask again.”
“You didn’t ask the first time,” I snipe, almost regretting it, but don’t. I’m not going to let this man walk all over me. Call me stubborn—or just plain reckless.
If there’s anything I’ve learned over the years, it’s that ultimately, whether you sass back or not, it doesn’t matter—either way, you’ll get punished. For a couple of years in my lateteens, I held my tongue. I did everything I was told and it didn’t make any difference, my compliance was never enough to avoid a beating. At least when I say what I want, the beatings come sooner and are over more quickly because of it. I don’t have to walk on eggshells anymore, waiting and hoping that I might escape punishment for one small mistake.
If my asshole husband wants to punish me for my disrespect, then by all means, let him have at it. My father couldn’t break me, and he’s been trying for years, so this man won’t either.
The Irish bastard lifts a scarred blond brow, taking me in as if he’s seeing me for the first time. He’s considering what to do with me, I can see that in his pale blue eyes.
After a few strained moments, he nods, once, as if to himself. He produces a knife from his tuxedo pocket. Flipping it open with a quick wrist moment, he approaches me.
My pulse stutters. Horrified, I stumble backward, my hands outstretched. “Wait. Please. What are you doing?”
Slaps, punches, and kicks, I can deal with those, but not knives. Is he going to carve me up like someone did to his face? I’ve heard horror stories about the Irish and their brutality, but I didn’t think?—
The backs of my knees hit the bed and the huge Celt takes that opportunity to grab me, spinning me around so my back presses to his chest.
I scream.
He tears off my veil, tossing it aside. Grabbing the back of my wedding dress, he slices it open all the way from my neck to my hips.
As my initial shock recedes, I struggle against him. “Get your hands off me, you filthy Irish cocksucker!”
He freezes, my words must have momentarily stunned him. His fingers curl around my neck, and he spins me toward him, dipping his face close to mine. Our breaths mingle.
“Filthy Irish cocksucker?Well, well, don’t you have a naughty mouth on you?” He’s so close that I expect him to kiss me. But he doesn’t. “Next time I tell you to do something, you’ll do it. Obedience. Respect. Honesty. That’s all I ask of you every single day. It’s not too much.” He gives my throat a squeeze, fear jolts through me. “We’re consummating this marriage tonight, as per the terms of the contract. Now tell me, do you want it fast or slow? We can either get it over and done with, which will be more painful, or we can take it slow, which will be more enjoyable for you. I don’t mind either way. The choice is yours,wife.”
I meet his cold gaze, my heart nearly pounding out of my chest. “Just get it over with,” I say through gritted teeth.
He searches my face, then releases me. The warmth of his body disappears as he steps away and pockets his knife, leaving me in the ruined wedding gown. I hold the front to my chest in a futile effort to cover myself, waiting to see what he’ll do next. Tight anticipation coils in my stomach as my pulse thunders.
“Have it your way. Now drop the dress, I want to look at you first.” His voice rasps against my jittery nerves.
Grudgingly, I do as I’m told this time. If I want to get this over and done with as soon as possible there’s no point in delaying any longer. I pull the ruined scraps of fabric from my body until I’m standing in front of him wearing only white satin heels.
