Julian is standing here.
“You can start,” Julian tells the pastor, or priest, or whatever he is.
“Dearly beloved . . .”
I don’t even pay attention to the words because I’m standing next to Julian.
Not Elliott.
What is going on?
Suddenly, Julian is making vows to me in his deep voice.
“—to honor and cherish as long as we both shall live.”
And then it’s my turn, and with a shaky voice, I manage to repeat the vows.
We exchange rings.
We sayI do.
And then I hear the words “You may kiss your bride.”
Oh God.
But Julian doesn’t flinch, and doesn’t ignore the suggestion either. With his hand still in mine, he leans down and gently places a ghost of a kiss over my lips, sending tingles down my spine.
Holy shit.
He barely touched me and I’m tingling.
Nine
JULIAN
I can’t look awayfrom my wife.
My fucking wife.
We’re in the back of my armored SUV, headed to the mansion, and she’s buckled in next to me but hasn’t said a word sinceI do.
Her parents didn’t congratulate her before we got in the car to leave.
In fact, aside from shaking my hand before the ceremony, Sergei didn’t say much to me at all. He didn’t even balk at the fact that it was me marrying her instead of Elliott.
Not one word was said about it, and I don’t trust that.
When Natasha got down the aisle and looked up at me, her blue eyes were wide and ...relieved. Shocked, certainly, but I could almost touch the relief that surrounded her, and I knew that I was doing the right thing.
Of course, this is just a business arrangement.
When I said those words to Rome, Carson, and Mateo earlier, they all laughed in my face, and I almost pulled my gun on them.
Assholes.
Natasha clears her throat next to me, and I turn to her, then reach for her hand. She doesn’t flinch or shy away, and I take that as a good sign.
“You look absolutely gorgeous, Angel.”
