Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol #1) - Fiona Cole Page 0,76

one was watching.

By the end of the night, everyone was laughing and having fun. Nico—a surprisingly good dancer—twirled me around, pulling me right back into his arms.

Another round of clinking glasses at the end of the night had his lips on mine again. Only this time, when he pulled away, he hefted me in his arms. I yelped, holding on tight around his neck.

“It’s time to go, wife,” he whispered.

He made his way to the exit, nodding his farewell to everyone we passed.

“Nico. This is rude, and oh my god, what are they going to think?”

“That I’m taking my brand-new bride to our suite, so I can tear you out of this dress and fuck you as your husband.”

His words shot straight to my core, and I squirmed in his arms. His deep laugh rumbled like a promise of dirty things to come.

But I’d made a promise of my own to not sleep with him. I just hoped I could hold on to it.

All of a sudden, five years looked like an eternity.

Twenty-Four

Nico

Need pulsed with each step closer to our suite. I didn’t know if I’d make it to our room. Her light puffs of air against my neck. Her small hands holding tight to my shoulders. The soft weight of her body cradled in my arms.

I wanted to get to our room so I could have all of this, minus her dress, with her legs wrapped around my waist. Hard. Against a wall.

At least the first time.

The memory of her heat crowded my brain day and night. Especially having her curled up in bed beside me. And now she was my wife. I had a lifetime—or at least five years—to fuck her every way I wanted to.

I just had to make her admit she wanted it too. After all the drugging kisses from lips I’d imagined tasting from night one, I knew she was just as ready as I was.

I almost ordered the attendant to get the hell out of the elevator so I could tease her more, but Vera smiled and laughed with giddy wonder when he handed us each a glass of champagne and pushed the button for our floor.

“A good night?” the attendant asked.

“Yeah, it was,” Vera answered.

Her smile grew into something soft, and she looked down, biting her lip, like she could barely contain her genuine happiness.

A flicker of emotion that sparked in my chest when I’d caught my first glimpse of her walking down the aisle flared again. Small and unidentifiable.

Uncomfortable with the odd warmth, I focused on my pride—on the victory flooding my veins. Watching Lorenzo’s barely contained scowl as he escorted Vera to me had been icing on a cake I never imagined having. Even better because he didn’t even know he was handing his daughter over to his enemy. Yet.

Fortunately, he missed Grandpa at the ceremony, and Grandpa hadn’t been well enough to stay long at the reception. Not that Lorenzo had stayed long after I shot down his attempt to talk business. Obviously, because his plan with Camden fell through, he looked at his next best cash horse. Part of me wanted to play him like he played my grandpa. But I didn’t want to play games. I wanted to hide in the shadows and slowly pick him apart until I could step forward with the direct blow.

Just like you’re being direct with Vera?

I shoved any guilt down and almost dragged her out of the elevator.

She said she wouldn’t sleep with me, but she also said she wouldn’t kiss me, and she’d had her lips on mine all night.

I held the door to the suite open, a round table in the middle of a small foyer with two doors on each side. A bottle of chilled champagne sat next to a bundle of red roses and candles.

“Wow,” she breathed.

Soft music played from the open doors on the left. Her dress rustled loudly, almost drowning out her gasp when she took in the room beyond. Red rose petals and candles covered every surface. With her hands to her chest, she spun, emitting a high-pitched sound of joy, making my lips twitch.

In her white dress—standing out among the deep red petals—the dim flicker of candles, and the New York City skyline twinkling through the corner of the windows behind her, she looked like a fairy tale.

“Oh my gosh. Nico.”

She said my name with wonder and joy—like she’d never said it before—and that flicker of warmth roared back. I looked around and stuffed