Someone catcalls from the audience, making Leo smirk, and I wet my suddenly dry lips.
“By the power vested in me by the state of Chicago, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Time stops as Leo reaches for my veil and lifts it from my face, guiding it to fall down the back of my head.
It’s taken all of my self-control to think of anything but this moment since last night, when he had me pressed against that bathroom door.
I ache to know what his lips will feel like, to see how he might kiss me—if it will be a soft peck or a demanding claim.
At the same time, I’m terrified I won’t like it, that he might even do what he can to ensure that I don’t.
Breath trapped in my throat, I gaze into his eyes, silently pleading that we can get through this last hurdle of the ceremony without a hitch.
He steps forward, closing the distance between us, and my body jolts as his warm palm finds the base of my spine.
He pulls me closer, his free hand cupping the back of my neck, and my skin tingles where it meets his.
Then he leans in, slowly, confidently, his gaze shifting from my eyes to my mouth.
For one suspended moment, I can taste the electricity in the air—sharp and searing. Then his lips cover mine, and the world explodes.
Vaguely, in the back of my mind, I can hear our audience cheering, but all I can think about is the shocking softness of his warm lips.
There’s an urgency as he presses them to mine, and as the seconds pass, the fire tearing through my body grows hotter, melting me completely.
His arm tightens around my waist, bringing me closer until my body is flush with his.
My heart slams against my ribs, my weak knees finally buckling as the moment overwhelms me completely, but Leo doesn’t let me fall.
Instead, he dips me back, drawing fresh cheers from the crowd as he keeps our lips locked together.
I couldn’t breathe if I wanted to.
The fireworks exploding through me are sucking up all the oxygen.
It’s all I can do to cling to his shoulders as he bows me backward in a romantic arch.
Then our lips part too soon as he effortlessly sets me back on my feet, keeping his arm around my waist a moment longer to make sure I won’t collapse.
As I suck in a ragged breath, our eyes meet, and the surprise in his almost holds a candle to my shock.
I’ve been dreading our first kiss, sure it would be a catastrophe, but even if that weren’t the first one I’ve ever had, I’m certain it would have blown all the others away.
Leo might be an arrogant jerk.
He might not want to be married to me. But there’s no denying that we have chemistry.
Taking my hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm as the officiant proudly announces the new Mr. and Mrs. Leonardo Chiaroscuro, Leo leads me back down the aisle to raucous applause.
Black-suited, white-gloved staff members give us a double-door entrance back into the great room, and as soon as the doors close behind us, we’re engulfed by echoing silence.
Without a word, my new husband steers me through the room and down a hall into a rustically furnished office with an ornately carved black mahogany desk and leather chairs.
Books fill the shelves along one wall, while ornate gold and hunter green wallpaper covers the others.
A bay window looks out over the side of the estate toward the tree line and Chicago’s downtown city skyline beyond.
The office door opens once again, and Don Augusta strides in, followed closely by the oldest Chiaroscuro brother, Miko.
