I find a victim almost immediately.
He’s tall and blond, with a faint European lilt to his words when I ask him what he’s drinking. Turns out he works for Artemis, the Montclairs’ storied watch brand, and I don’t think he’ll go for it.
But I flirt with him anyway.
He blinks at me a few times, but then a smile lights up his face. “It’s lovely to talk to you finally,” he says. “The wedding has been beautiful.”
I laugh a little and tell him how intense it’s been. How I haven’t had a chance to relax. How busy Rafe’s been.
He nods through it all and shifts closer by the bar. Guests are everywhere. I hope they all see how flirty I’m being. Rage is a red mist around me, and I don’t want it to ever leave.
He tells me I’m beautiful.
It’s a common enough comment for a guest to make to the bride, but his eyes linger when he says it, and I can tell he’s noticed the vibes I’m giving off. Any other day, and I’d never do this.
Any other marriage, and I’d never even want to.
But I hope Rafe is watching us. I hope he sees how close my hand is to—what’s his name again? Antoine?—on the bar counter. Jealousy churns in my stomach. Tight and painful.
“It was a very fast thing. This marriage,” I tell him.
He nods, and his eyes dip to my lips. “I understand,” he says, and I realize he hasn’t bought into the fantasy Rafe and I have tried to sell. “But if you ever want to have fun… I’m around.”
Then I feel it.
A hand on my low back and the scent of his cologne. “There you are, darling,” Rafe says.
I look up at him. “Oh. Hello.”
His eyes are hard on mine. I give him my best blinding smile and ignore that faint bruise peeking up from the edge of his collar. What grown man gets a hickey?
Rafe looks to the man I’m talking to. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks. “It’s a rare thing, to get a chance to talk to the bride at her own wedding.”
“We’ve just met,” the man across from me says. His hand,which was lying so close to mine on the bar, goes back to grip his drink. “I’m very happy for you.”
It sounds like a blatant lie.Wow. This guy is brazen.
Rafe’s lips tip into a smile. I’ve seen that one before. It’s disbelieving, a little cruel and calculating. “Are you? How nice.”
“He’s a professional sailor. Isn’t that cool?” I ask.
Rafe’s gaze finally returns to me. His hand intertwines with mine, and I can feel the moment he realizes the hand he’s holding isn’t wearing any rings.
His jaw tightens. “I’m going to have to steal my wife back,” he says.
Antoine gives Rafe a smile and a quick nod, like he finally realizes the danger he’s in. Because he needs Rafe’s approval.
Everyone always needs Rafe’s approval.
He pulls me away from the bar. There’s nowhere to go on this boat, and we both know it. We’re surrounded by people, by eyes, by murmurs and whispers and well-wishes, with the flash of cameras and the rocking of the boat and the pounding of the music.
He sweeps me out on the dance floor. His hands hold me tight, and I want to push them off. Who else was he touching just days ago?
His mouth comes to my ear. “What was that, Wilde?”
“I was flirting with him,” I say. The hot feeling in my stomach burns like a flame. I’m on a boat. I can’t run from it. So I have to throw myself headfirst into it instead.
“You wereflirting?” he asks. “What the hell happened to the perfect wife I was promised? I’ve kept my word. Not a single worker has been laid off.”
