“But the thing about Dean,” Henry continued, tilting his glass in Dean’s direction with a flourish, “is that he’s a man who likes to… explore his options before settling down.”
The laughter that followed was scattered and uneasy, and I felt my stomach twist in knots. Roman, sitting beside me, had his jaw clenched so tightly that I could almost hear the grinding of his teeth. His gaze was fierce, almost murderous.
Henry’s eyes darted toward me for just a fleeting moment before he returned his focus to Dean. “Case in point-our groom here didn’t just stumble upon the love of his life. Oh no, he took the scenic route.” His tone was teasing, but I could feel the weight of the words hanging in the air. “But one thing I commend him for is sticking to one family.”
The room fell into a stunned silence so abruptly that I could hear the soft fizz of champagne in my glass, which suddenly felt cold against my palm. My cheeks flushed with heat, and my pulse quickened, thudding loudly in my ears. From my vantage point, I could see Dean’s hand twitching nervously against the tablecloth, his composure cracking under the pressure.
Henry’s smile widened, clearly reveling in the moment. “And I mean, who could blame him? Savannah’s a gorgeous woman. Hot, curvy, and-dare I say-feisty.” He swirled the champagne in his glass, as if trying to conjure the right words. “But… sometimes you’ve gotta take a few test drives before you find the car you really want to buy, am I right?”
Confused murmurs rippled through the guests, their expressions a mix of surprise and discomfort. Just then, another groomsman approached the stage, leaning in to whisper something in Henry’s ear, clearly urging him to wrap it up.
“Okay, I’ll keep this short now,” Henry said, a hint of mischief in his voice. “Dean’s a lucky guy. Not many men can say they dated two sisters and still got invited to the wedding-“
He took a dramatic sip from his glass, savoring the moment. “So today is in honor of you, Dean. For finally choosing the right sister.”
I could see Dean’s entire body tense, his posture rigid as he slowly turned to face me. The tension in the room was palpable, and I could feel Roman’s fury radiating beside me; he looked as if he might leap onto that stage at any moment, ready to confront Henry. His fists were clenched, knuckles white with rage.
Chloe, however, was all smiles, her expression bright and triumphant. She raised her left hand high, showcasing her engagement ring as if it were a trophy, prompting her friends to gush and snap photos. The flashes of their cameras illuminated the room, capturing a moment that felt simultaneously joyous and fraught with tension.
Around us, guests exchanged furtive glances-some awkward, others curious-whispering in a way that was almost palpable, even if I couldn’t hear their words. Roman’s eyes were locked onto mine, dark and unreadable, as if he were cataloging every flicker of my reaction for later analysis.
I remained still, unwilling to betray my emotions, acutely aware of the weight of Henry’s words hanging in the air.
Sensing no change in the atmosphere, Henry raised his glass higher, ready to make the toast that would seal the moment in memory. “To true love, no matter how many stops you make on the way there.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with implications, as the tension crackled like static electricity, leaving us all to wonder what would come next.
The night enveloped me in a cool embrace, sharp and invigorating, carrying the faint scent of impending rain as I discreetly slipped away from the vibrant chaos of the rehearsal dinner. The laughter and clinking of glasses faded into a distant echo, replaced by the tranquil hush of the gardens surrounding the restaurant. My heart raced, a steady thrum that resonated through my trembling hands as I leaned against the rough stone wall, desperately inhaling a breath that felt just out of reach.
It was then that I heard him before I even laid eyes on him-the steady, unhurried rhythm of his footsteps, as if he possessed an innate sense of where I would be. And indeed, he did.
My body, traitorous and unyielding, responded to his presence before I could even process it.
“Sav.” His voice caressed my skin, low and laced with an undercurrent of something dangerously alluring. He stepped closer, his warmth brushing against my back, his hand finding my shoulder-firm yet gentle, anchoring me. “You’re not okay.”
The area where his hand rested felt like it was igniting, a sudden wave of heat coursing through me, prickling my skin.
I nodded, but the words I wanted to say fled my lips. “I’m fine.”
“Clearly, you’re not.” His gaze locked onto mine, a piercing look that held me captive. “Who was that guy?”
“Henry. One of Dean’s lackeys.” My throat constricted, the name alone stirring a tempest of emotions within me.
“I should kill him.” The words slipped from his lips so quietly that they barely disturbed the air between us.
Oddly enough, it didn’t sound like a casual threat; it felt more like a promise.
“No need,” I murmured, though my heart raced at the thought. “He’s always been an asshole. I couldn’t stand him back in college.”
“He humiliated you. Being an asshole isn’t an excuse,” he countered, his voice low and fierce.
“Just let it go,” I whispered, my gaze inadvertently skimming over his mouth, betraying my thoughts.
His jaw tightened, a muscle flexing beneath the skin. “Why do you let people walk all over you?”
“Because…” My voice faltered. “…it’s easier to stroke the heel when you’re down.”
“And you’re one overprotective fake fiancé,” I teased, feeling an unexpected thrill as my body responded to his proximity, my nipples straining against the fabric of my bodice.
He noticed, his eyes darkening with a mix of desire and frustration. “You’re driving me insane,” he growled, the words vibrating with a tension that was almost palpable. His hand lingered on my hip, a heartbeat too long, and I found myself unable to move.
The air thickened between us, charged with an electric anticipation, like the calm before a storm. His thumb brushed my waist, igniting a spark that shot straight to the core of my longing. I told myself to step back, to create distance before things escalated further. But my body had other plans, betraying me in ways I couldn’t comprehend.
“You should go,” I whispered, though my fingers curled instinctively into the fabric of his jacket, unwilling to let him slip away.
He smirked, a glimmer of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Do you really want me to?” His breath was warm against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
The truth was, I didn’t want him to leave-not in the slightest. But the way my lips parted, the way my knees felt weak beneath me, told him everything he needed to know.
Something in his gaze shifted, a dark hunger mingling with anger, both emotions intertwining in a way that left me breathless. “I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” he growled, his voice low and feral.
I didn’t have the chance to feign ignorance, nor did I want to.
And then, without warning, his mouth was on mine.
The kiss wasn’t gentle or tender; it was fierce and consuming, a collision that stole the very air from my lungs. His hands pinned mine above my head against the wall, the cold stone biting into my back, but I pressed against him instinctively, craving the heat and hardness that enveloped me.
Just as quickly as it began, he broke the kiss, leaving me gasping in protest.
He caught my arm, his grip unyielding, his gaze burning with a wild intensity that made my heart race. “Come with me,” he murmured, not as a request but as a command.
The restaurant blurred past as he guided me through a side door, down a dimly lit corridor that carried the faintest whiff of spices and smoke. The murmur of voices faded, leaving only the pounding of my heart echoing in my ears. He didn’t stop until we reached a shadowy corner behind a stack of wine crates, a place where no one would think to look for us.
Before I could gather my thoughts, he had me caged against the wall, his hands framing my face. The air between us ignited, his chest pressing against mine, our breaths mingling in a heated dance. Every nerve in my body ached for him, as if I had been starved for this moment.
“I want you, Savannah.” His voice was rough, filled with a deep longing that resonated within me.
My body hummed in response, anticipation coursing through me. I felt the same way-ever wanting him, needing him, craving him. Yet, I couldn’t shake the guilt that gnawed at me for wanting him so desperately.
But then, the next words that tumbled from his lips caught me completely off guard.
“The first time was supposed to clear my head of these thoughts, but instead, it ruined me. Now I want every inch of you.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.