Page 12 of Perfect Satisfaction

When you’re making those cost cutting decisions at the eleventh hour, think about that. No one who matters cares about what kind of canapés you serve or if there are orchids or lilies gracing the tables.

—Moore You Want

Two Months Later—April

“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

I’m swept into his arms, his lips worshiping mine. The rest of the world falls away at the vows we take in front of a roomful of complete strangers—in Vegas, of course. Our hearts are bound together as surely as if we’d spoken these words amid a shrine of pomp and circumstance, satin and lace—all of which mean nothing to me.

The only thing that matters to me is him. Us.

And the knowledge of knowing he’s mine forever.

“I will never love anyone the way I do you, Sula.” His jade-colored eyes bore into mine as he repeats the words torn from his lips just moments ago.

I give a little bounce and then leap, wrapping my legs around his waist. “Show me.”

Boosting his hands beneath my rear, he strides down the aisle of the chapel. In my ear, he murmurs, “I plan on stripping that garter you’re wearing off with my teeth.”

My thighs quiver around his lean waist. “I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

Just outside the chapel doors, he braces me against the frame before nuzzling the side of my cheek. On that same side, my nose now bears a tiny diamond piercing I had made from the diamond that brought us together. It wasn’t there this morning when we flew in, but it will remain there for as long as he loves me—eternity. “My promise to you,” I told Arek solemnly after the piercer completed affixing the jewel.

His response was to haul me to my feet and kiss me in front of the amused strangers.

Now, we’re bound legally as well as emotionally and my soul feels like it’s ready to take flight when he vows, “I’ll love you forever, Ursula.”

“I know you will.”

“There will never be a time I won’t crave you. Just you, Ursula. My Moore.”

My hands sink into his dark brown hair, tugging him closer. “Take me to bed, husband.”

“Your wish is my command, wife.”

With that, he strides toward the elevator to head to the sparse hotel room we’re staying in before we fly back to New York tomorrow. Then the following day, me to Dublin.

But we’ll make it work.

We have to.

Since the moment we met, there’s been nothing more important in my life but him.

Not even the past.

CHAPTERFIVE

Chase O’Hara deserves an award. Whether that’s homemade cookies or the John Marshall award from the AMA, he deserves it. Incredible accolades should be strewn about this man for eternity after his tireless work pursuing the civil suit against former XMedia board member, Michael Clarke.

“While I appreciate the acknowledgment, the only respect I need or want is that of the women who placed their trust in me to represent them. They are the true heroes coming forward, again, after they were so summarily dismissed the first time they told their stories.”

The most recognizable of Michael Clarke’s victims is Angela Fahey, now married to our favorite almost-billionaire, Ward Burke.

For those who don’t remember, Ms. Fahey is the woman who accused XMedia’s newest board member, Michael Clarke, of sexual harassment during their college years. As a former friend of Ward Burke’s, Michael Clarke was taken down when Ward Burke—a lawyer himself—presented overwhelming evidence he had turned up against him.

— StellaNova

Two Months Later—June