Quiet Chaos - Keta Kendric Page 0,16

We eased down the aisle, receiving our congratulations and being showered with warm smiles and applause. Through our walk and the noise of the cheering crowd, I never lost sight of the pulsating connection that remained alive between us.

Mecca took it all in stride as she chatted with the crowd, winning them over with her charm. If she were nervous at any point, she didn’t express it.

It wasn’t hard to notice that her lovely features garnered her a lot of attention. She was putting politicians to shame, and I had to admit, I loved what I was seeing. She could work a room as well as me. The wicked little grin she tossed in my direction let me know that she knew I was watching her every move.

“How does it feel to be a married woman?” I eased up to her, close enough to press my body into the back of hers. My intention was to be forward, but I ended up getting caught up in her scent, and the warmth radiating off her like caressing hands.

The first deep inhale I took enticed me to close my eyes and savor the stimulating mixture she produced. She wore Chanel Chance, an alluring mixture of pink pepper, jasmine, and amber that surrendered to the mix of her natural aroma, which was sweet, intense, and unusually calming. It was what I imagined warmth would smell like if it had a scent.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel,” she answered the question I had forgotten about asking. “This isn’t real. We’re using each other. It’s going to take a lot more than fancy words and an overpriced ceremony to convince me that I should glorify this as something more than what it is. We did this because it’s going to improve our business status, end of story.”

Her words were spoken in a smooth silky tone, but the impact stilled me. I stood blinking for a few seconds, confused, and even turned on. Other than my brother, I wasn’t used to people being this straight-forward with me. They usually told me what I wanted to hear, and it suited me fine.

Mecca had given me a peek at her fiery personality the first day we met. Based on her strong stance now, she didn’t care about my reputation, and the notion caused sparks of excitement to flare to life within me. I loved a challenge.

We had only shared a few encounters between the wedding planning and me showing her my house, soon to become ours. And we’d only talked on the phone three times, usually about the marriage ceremony. We hadn’t delved into anything business-related, agreeing that we needed to concentrate on getting married before we approached those types of discussions.

I’d always taken the time to consider what I was getting myself into before I took on the challenge of a new project. With Mecca, I knew right away that I would not be able to treat her like any of the other women that I had dated in the past because she was of a different caliber.

She made tough decisions, some of them deadly. She had to make executive business decisions, that impacted finances and jobs. I considered that I was with a woman that was on my level in many aspects, and I’d have to approach her with the same level of respect I was given, or we weren’t going to work.

As far as our personal lives, I believe I was in trouble, as I hadn’t considered that I would be this attracted and impressed with her. And I couldn’t forget that she was the living representation of danger and trouble.

Had I just married a woman capable of ripping my hell apart and taming the devil?

6

Mecca

My husband whispered something to the pianist that made a wide smile break out on the man’s face as he nodded. Arjen glanced up, staring straight ahead at the wall in front of him. His smile widened, and without him looking in my direction, I knew that he knew I was watching him.

When he turned his head in my direction and glanced at me, our gazes met and the heat blazing from him reached me from across the room. He turned in my direction and approached with a smooth, sure stride.

Impressively tall, he had an inner strength that gleamed his surface and added to his arsenal of characteristics that aided in pulling you in. He was at least two-forty, with a serious amount of man-packing power. Where some tall men

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