You’ve been gone for 750 days. Seems like a good time to tell you that I’m in love with you. So in love that nothing makes sense without you.
“Let’s read the rest later.” Gripping her hip, I usher her toward the kitchen, noting the music filtering in from the backyard. “There’s only one that really matters. I bet you know which one that is.”
She shakes her head, doe eyes widening in astonishment. “You don’t have that, do you? I can’t remember what we did with it at the end of the night, but …”
Flipping around a shadowbox that displays the most important contract of my life, I wink. “I kept it.”
Mercy Phillips hereby agrees that if she is not wed by her thirty-fifth birthday, she will marry Ryker Noire in a handfasting ceremony on that day.
Her mouth falls open. “You’re not suggesting—”
“I am, Miss Phillips. That contract is binding. And today is your thirty-fifth birthday.”
“That’s why you put that stupid clause in the fake engagement contract about all previous contracts? And why the engagement only needed to last five months?” She momentarily seems impressed with my prowess until her features morph into an indignant scowl. “Was your plan to force me into a marriage, whether I wanted it or not?”
Probably best not to answer that directly since we both know who I am. “The engagement was never fake for me. I just needed you to have time to catch up while also ensuring the world knew you were mine.” I tap her champagne diamond ring. “I had that ring for years. You could have worn any, but you only ever wore this one.”
“I knew it wasthe onewhen I saw it.” She rubs her thumb over it. “It felt right. It felt like us.”
“It felt like us to me too.” I weave my fingers into her hair, pressing a tender kiss on her lips and breathing in her cherry-and-brown-sugar scent. “I’d devour you right now, but I think I’ll wait to make an honest woman out of you. Ready to get hitched?”
“I’m not really dressed for it.” She wiggles out of my embrace, opening the shadowbox and unpinning the napkin contract from the felt lining to flip it over. “And neither are you.”
Ryker Noire promises not to wear pants for said public wedding.
I chuckle and rub my jaw, somewhat surprised she remembered, but grateful that she went for that instead of lamenting about Emma. “You must have added that later. There are no signatures or initials beneath it.”
She scoffs, her eyebrows reaching for the high heavens. “You can’t hold me to contracts and not abide by them yourself.”
Christ, she’s stunning. The truth is, I’d show up naked if it meant she’d promise me forever and take my name. But there’s no sense in volunteering that. The first rule in gambling is to hold your cards close to the vest. We’re way past that since I’ve fully unveiled my obsession at this point. I’m not sure if that warrants losing my pants though.
Leaning against the marble countertop, I cross my ankles in an unbothered stance. “You could spend your time debating this—which you know would not hold in the court of law—or get changed for your wedding. Tessa is upstairs with Rena, prepared to dress you and do your hair and makeup. Regardless, I’m binding your wrists in an hour, so your call.”
MERCY
Of course Ryker had ten dresses in my size with matching accessories waiting for me upstairs. When I saw the champagne-colored gown—with a lace sweetheart neckline, fitted bodice, and silky tulle on the skirt, complete with a diamond choker—I knew that was the one he’d envisioned. And it fit like a dream.
Tessa and Rena worked fast, pinning my hair up, freshening my makeup, and fawning over every last detail.
Now that I’m ready, jitters fizz beneath my skin. This is real. After everything, I can’t believe we made it here, but I’m going to treasure every shard of beauty I can because nothing is guaranteed.
“Three minutes until you’re up.” Tessa peers over my shoulder, taking in the extravagant backyard setup through the second-story window. “You weren’t supposed to peek.”
It’s better for me to glimpse everything Ryker arranged now than it would’ve been to be a weeping mess, walking into it. The house itself is stunning—quaint and cozy and opulent at once. And the backyard has been transformed into an enchanting wedding venue, so thoughtful and detailed that my emotions are all over the place.
I smirk, side-eyeing her. “Thanks for being a rule breaker with me.”
“Always.” Her Caribbean blues bounce with mischief. “Ryker has proven himself. That man dotes on you like nothing I’ve ever seen, which is what you deserve. But I’d never sanction yougoing in blind to anything planned by a Noire. It’s wise to keep both eyes open with that crew.”
Her gaze lasers on Maddox with that caution. And as if he can sense her, his attention rises to the window, and he casts her a sexy smirk and a wink. Most girls would melt. Tessa looks like she just elevated his list status to a people-to-kill category. She masks it well, though, turning to face me as if none of that occurred and allowing serenity to wash over her.
“I’ll be a Noire in a few minutes.” It’s surreal to say that out loud, but not nearly as scary as I’d have thought.
“Semantics.” She cocks a perfectly manicured brow.
Tessa is always a knockout, but the lightness she’s temporarily summoning for this celebration has her doll-like face shining—rosy cheeks, glittery skin, thick lashes.
“Rena’s a Noire.”
