The Billionaire’s Bride Read Online By L. Steele - Read The Billionaire’s Bride(45) Online free

Ava

I glance at myself in the mirror in Summer’s town house. The simple white gown I’ve chosen has a sweetheart neckline and cinches in at the waist before flowing down to my feet. My hair’s flowing around my shoulders, just how he likes it. On my feet, I am wearing green colored heels which match the green of my ring. My make-up is light, a touch of lip gloss, and purple eyeshadow to bring out the green of my eyes.

"What do you think?" I meet Isla’s gaze in the mirror. "Too simple?"

"It’s," she looks me up and down, "gorgeous; very you."

"Not that I had much time to find a dress," I mutter. "I mean, how did he manage to accelerate all the paperwork so we could be married in 24 hours?"

"Welcome to the brotherhood of the Seven." She grimaces, "Each of them seems to try to break the record of the previous one, when it comes to organizing their wedding. And of course, each of them has to ask me to organize it. And of course, I can’t say no." She mock wipes her brow, "The number of grey hairs they have given me over the past few months is not funny."

"You like the challenge; admit it," I giggle.

"Yeah, right." She blows out a breath, "At least, I am not marrying one of them."

"No, you decided to set your sights on the older brother to one of them."

"Gah, stop it." She throws up her hands, "Liam’s getting married in a week, and that will be that." She dusts off her palms.

Summer peeks in, "Isla, I think Amelie needs your help with the catering."

"Of course, she does," She turns and marches toward the door, then points a finger at Summer, "You make sure she gets down to the back garden in ten minutes, you hear me?"

"Yes Ma’am." Summer chuckles as Isla throws me a smile, then disappears down the corridor.

"Whew, she’s in a mood." Summer saunters in, then sinks down into a chair. "How are you feeling?" She peers up at me. "No nerves or anything?"

"Nope," I smile, "I feel good."

"Good."

"Only thing."

She leans forward, giving me her full attention.

"He hasn’t yet told me that he loves me."

"Hmm." She places her fingers together. "But he asked you to marry him and pulled out all the stops to get this ceremony underway as soon as possible."

I nod.

"And he found you a ring that’s exactly the kind you’d have wanted."

"Mm-hmm." I jerk my chin.

"Seems to me like love."

"It is love," I declare. "It’s just, I wish he’d say those three words aloud, you know?"

"When Sinclair asked me to marry him, it was part of a transaction." She tilts her head at me, "Did you know that?"

"No," I blink, "but you two are so much in love."

"Oh, the alphahole was in love with me, all right. It just took him a while to figure it out. Hell, it took me a while to figure out what my feelings for him were."

"But it all worked out."

"And how." She laughs as she places her palms across her belly. "I can’t believe how thrilled I am to be carrying his baby."

"You’re glowing." I smile back at her. "You look radiant."

"I feel radiant." She grins back, before glancing away. "If only my sister were here to share my happiness."

"Karma, right?" I turn to face her, "Hasn’t she been away in Sicily, with her new beau?"

"That’s the thing," Summer pushes her hair back from her face, "I’ve never met this man, and it’s not like Karma to be away for so long."

"But she does call?"

"She texts me most weeks. Why she can't just pick up the phone and call me, I don’t know. She doesn‘t answer when I call, just texts me back, which is really strange. I messaged her to tell her that I'll be coming over there if she didn't visit me soon, to which she didn't reply." Summer scowls, "I mean, meeting someone who sweeps you off your feet is all well and good, but what the hell is so pressing that she hasn’t come back to visit even once in all this time?"

"Maybe he’s possessive?" I chuckle. "He doesn’t want to let her out of his sight."

"Don’t we know all about that?" Summer rolls her eyes. "If you think Barons’ bad now, wait until you get pregnant. He’ll chain you to his side."

There’s a knock on the door, then Julia walks in. In her hands is a bouquet of cascading greens. She offers me the bunch of eucalyptus, ferns and sage.

"Wow," I gaze at it, "it’s beautiful. It’s exactly what I would have chosen for myself." I had been so preoccupied with everything else, I had forgotten about the bouquet. "Thank you so much," I cry as I reach for the bouquet.

"Thank your husband to-be." Julia laughs, "He had this ordered especially for you. Clearly, he knows you well."

The blood rushes to my cheeks. I bring the bouquet up to my nose and sniff at it. "I think I am going to cry," I sniff.

"Don’t you dare," Summer admonishes, "don’t want to spoil your make up, now do you?"

Just then Amelie pops her head in, "There you are." She smiles at Summer, "Your man’s been looking for you."

"I saw him, not ten minutes ago," Summer mutters.

"Yeah, but the Seven." Amelie chuckles.

"The bloody Seven." Summer laughs as she rises to her feet, "Speaking of, it’s time for you to officially join our collective." Summer grins. She walks over, taking my hands in hers, "You ready?"

I weave my hand through my father’s arm, and clutch my bouquet of cascading greens.

"You look beautiful," my father says as he places his palm over mine.

I blink away the tears that his softly spoken words elicit… Christ, what’s it with me and the waterworks? "Thank you for being here with me, Daddy." I sniff, "And after how horrible I was to you."

"You know, you could say anything to me and I’d never take offense." My father pats my hand, "It’s a child’s prerogative to say what’s on your mind, and it’s a parent’s prerogative to forgive."

"Oh, Dad," I glance up at him, "I was so wrong to judge you. I understand now that it’s possible to love two people. Ma was your past and Lina is your future. I get it now."

"You’ve grown up, Ava." My father glances down at me, his eyes shining., "My little girl is a woman, ready to start her new life."

"You’re going to make me cry," I sniffle.

"Oh, no." He beams down at me, "No tears today, only smiles."

Isla gestures to us that it’s time to walk down the aisle. I draw in a breath, as my father leads me onto the garden path.

We’d decided to marry in the picturesque backyard of the Sterling’s home, with the slopes of Primrose Hill, stretching out before us. We'd also decided to exchange vows in front of our friends and family and without having anyone officiate the wedding.

I glance up and my gaze collides with Baron’s searing blue ones. The connection is instant. Electrifying and sexual, caring and full of those emotions he seems to carry under that hard exterior of his.

We reach him and my father places my hand in his. Baron brings it up to his lips and brushes his mouth across my knuckles. I shiver. His lips curve against my skin and his gaze intensifies as he stares deeply into my eyes. My thighs clench and my palms grow sweaty. I part my lips and his gaze drops to my mouth.

I blush. Baron smirks. He moves away, but doesn’t release my hand. I lift my chin up, hold his gaze as we exchange our vows.

Then Baron grasps both of my hands in his. He leans down as I tip my head up. He gazes into my eyes, and in his blue ones, I see that unsaid emotion again. His irises deepen, until they seem almost azure in color. He lowers his lips to mine. "I love you," he whispers, then kisses me.

I pause my conversaton with Raisa to glance around at the faces of my friends and family. Saint stands with one arm around Victoria, the palm of his other hand on her five-month pregnant belly. Amelie leans into Weston as she converses with Victoria. The two men gaze down at their wives, looks of such adoration on their faces, that honestly, if I hadn’t seen it for myself, I’d have never guessed that they could be such alphaholes.

The doors to the house are flung open to reveal a piano, with Damian seated at it. He plays the keys and the notes float across the distance. I watch as Julia leans a hip against the piano, then leans over to kiss him.

Meredith, assistant to the Seven, and in many ways a guardian to all of them when they were younger, looks on with a smile on her face. Next to her is Peter, Sinclair's chauffeur and Meredith's now fiancé. That’s the thing with the Seven. Despite being gazillionaires, none of them allow class or economic status to define what they are or who their friends should be.

Arpad and Karina are seated at a table, engaged in an animated conversation. Summer and Sinclair stand nearby, their arms around each other.

Raisa nudges me and nods toward a particular group, making me smile. Baron converses with my Dad and Lina—yes, I invited her—periodically laughing and looking my way. I am trying my best to accept her. I realize now that she is not trying to replace my mother. She reached out to me and told me as much. I can see how much she and my Dad love each other, and somehow, in light of recent events, and knowing how it feels to be torn apart by my feelings for two men, I can empathize with their situation too.

Isla walks over to me, a glass of champagne in hand. "Congratulations, babe," she smiles widely, "that was a gorgeous ceremony."

"All thanks to you." I tip up my chin, "You have one hell of a talent in organizing the best weddings in such a short time." I grip her hand, "Seriously, Iz, thank you for putting this together so quickly."

"Oh, pfft." She tosses her hair over her shoulder, "Anything for you, babe. At least, I didn’t have to herd guests, considering you guys wanted to keep this so intimate."

"Speaking of," Raisa nudges Isla with her elbow, "who are those three delicious men in that corner?"

I turn in the direction of her gaze to the far corner, where, as if they are keen to distance themselves from the rest of the married folks, three men—and the only bachelors among the group—level hard looks at each other as they engage in some, evidently, serious conversation.

"The growly one is Isla’s Liam," I say, then chuckle and duck when Isla smacks my arm and protests, "Not my anything, that one."

"The one in the grey suit is Hunter Whittington, a friend of Baron and Liam’s." I continue, "And the third guy is Karina’s brother Nikolai Solonik. All three do business with the Seven."

Raisa opens her mouth to ask a question when the barking of a dog cuts through the space. Max—Summer and Sinclair’s dog—tears across the garden toward me. I bend down, hold out my arms as he jumps up and licks my face. His paws brush my dress, leaving doggy prints all over it, but I don’t care.

I giggle, pet him as Jeeves hurries over to me. "I am so sorry, Madam; he escaped me."

"It’s okay." I laugh as I pat the excited dog. "He’s so cute," I chuckle as he evades Jeeves outstretched arm and darts off with the butler in his wake.

"He’s certainly ensuring that Jeeves’ fitness levels have shot up." Summer smirks as she approaches me. Sinner follows, not far behind, with my husband next to him, holding two glasses of champagne.

My husband… Gah, he’s my husband. Baron hands me a flute, then raises his glass to me as he raises his voice to our guests, "I’d like to propose a toast." His lips quirk.

Isla and Raisa move away as the group hushes.

Baron gazes into my eyes, "When I saw you the first time, I knew you were the one. When I am with you, I like myself more. When I look at you, I know I can weather any storm. When I hold your hand, I know you are what was missing all along. When I think of you, I become a better person. When you are with me, I know I can overcome any challenge. When we are together, anything is possible. Now that you are mine, I can’t think of anything I want more than to take care of you, to love you, to cherish and protect you. As long as I am alive, you’ll never want for anything, and after I die—"

I reach up and place my finger on his lips, "No talk of dying today."

He smirks, "As you wish, my love."

He raises his glass, "To my wife, the most beautiful woman on this earth, and to me, the lucky bastard who doesn’t deserve her."

He kisses my fingers and I blush, raising my glass to my lips. Baron takes a sip from his flute, then glances past me at the sound of a loud engine. He hands me his glass, and at my puzzled look, he bends down, kisses me on the cheek, and says, "I’ll be right back."

He walks past me, and I turn to find him stalking toward a familiar figure. Edward stands by his motorbike, on the other side of the house. He’s wearing a leather jacket, his helmet under his arm. The wind ruffles his dark hair as Baron approaches him. He holds out his arm. Baron eschews it, instead throwing his arm around Ed. Ed hesitates, then hugs him back. The two talk, then as one, they turn to me. Edward waves at me, a smile splitting his face. I wave back. The two men converse some more, then Edward claps Baron on his shoulder. Baron returns the gesture, before stepping back. Edward slides on the helmet, mounts his bike, then raises the stand and starts the machine. The double barrels thunder, the noise clearly heard even at this distance. He takes off, and Baron turns and prowls over to me. I hand him his glass as he bends to brush his lips over mine.

"How is he?" I murmur.

Baron frowns, "He’ll be fine… I think."

Jeeves walks in just then. He hovers at the side until Summer turns to him,

"What is it?" she asks.

"Umm, I’m sorry, madam, but your sister and her husband are here to attend the wedding, though they haven’t been invited."

"My sister?" Summer scowls, "What do you mean, my sister? And she’s not married, even if she is my sister. Which she can’t be, because my sister is in Sicily, so..." She glances past Jeeves, then pales, "Oh, my." She swallows. "Oh, my god," she squeals, then takes off in the direction of a woman who’s wearing a pant suit. She’s standing next to a tall, broad man whose cold, dark eyes take in the gathering.

"Karma." Summer throws her arms around the woman, "Oh, my god, Karma, you’re here! I missed you so much. Why didn’t you tell me that you were coming? I would have sent the car for you."

"There’s no need for that," the man next to her interjects, "my wife has my car and chauffeur at her service."

"Wife?" Summer steps back. She tips up her chin and plants her palms on her hips, "And who are you?"

The man casts a glance around the garden, making sure to meet the gaze of each of the Seven who is present. My husband tenses. He wraps his arm around me and pulls me close. Saint and Weston move forward as one. Their shoulders are a solid wall that blocks their women from the man’s line of sight. Arpad rises up from the table and flanks Weston, effectively blocking Karina. Peter wraps an arm around Meredith, while Damian rises up from the piano. He covers Julia with his bulk as he steps up to the double doors that lead to the garden.

O-k-a-y, what the hell is this? Some kind of battle lines are being drawn here that I can’t quite figure out. "What’s happening?" I whisper to Baron. "Who’s he?"

Sinner stalks toward the new arrivals, and plants himself in between Summer and the man. "My wife asked you a question," he rumbles. "Who are you?"

"I," the man’s lips turn up in a semblance of a smile, one that resembles a shark who’s sniffed his next prey, "I am Michael Byron."

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Karma

"Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day…"

Tears prick the back of my eyes. Goddamn Byron. Crept up on me when I am at my weakest. Not that I am a poetry addict, by any measure, but words are my jam.

The one consolation I have, that when everything else in the world is wrong, I can turn to them, and they’ll be there, friendly steady, waiting with open arms. And this particular poem had laced my blood, crawled into my gut when I’d first read it. Darkness had folded into me like an insidious snake that raises its head when I least expect it. Like now. I'd managed to give my bodyguard the slip and veered off my usual running route to reach Waterlow Park.

I look out on the still sleeping city of London, from the grassy slope of the expanse. Somewhere out there the Mafia was hunting me, apparently.

I purse my lips, close my eyes. Silence. The rustle of the wind between the leaves, the faint tinkle of the water from the nearby spring.

I could be the last person on this planet, alone, unsung, bound for the grave.

Ugh! Stop. Right there.I drag the back of my hand across my nose. Try it again, focus, get the words out, one after the other, like the steps of my sorry life.

"Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day…"My voice breaks. "Bloody, asinine, hell." I dig my fingers into the grass and grab a handful and fling it out. Again. From the top. I open my eyes, focus on a spot in the distance.

"Morn came and went—and came, and…."

"…brought no day."

I whip my head around. His profile fills my line of sight. Dark hair combed back by a ruthless hand that booked no measure.

My throat dries.

Hooked nose, thin upper lip, a fleshy lower lip, that hints at hidden desires. Heat. Lust. The sensuous scrape of that whiskered jaw over my innermost places. Across my inner thigh, reaching toward that core of me that throbs, clenches, melts to feel the stab of his tongue, the thrust of his hardness as he impales me, takes me, makes me his.

"Of this their desolation; and all hearts

Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light.."

Sweat beads my palm; the hairs on my nape rise. "Who are you?"

He stares ahead, his lips moving,

"Forests were set on fire—but hour by hour

They fell and faded—and the crackling trunks

Extinguish'd with a crash—and all was black."

I swallow, squeeze my thighs together. Moisture gathers in my core. How can I be wet by the mere cadence of this stranger’s voice?

I spring up to my feet.

"Sit down."

His voice is unhurried, lazy even, his spine erect. The cut of his black jacket stretches across the width of his massive shoulders. His hair… I was mistaken. There are strands of dark gold woven between the darkness that pours down to brush the nape of his neck. My fingers tingle. My scalp itches.

I take in a breath and my lungs burn.

This man, he’s sucked all the oxygen in this open space, as if he owns it, the master of all he surveys. The master of me. My death. My life. A shiver ladders its way up my spine. Get away, get away now, while you still can.

I take a step back.

"I won’t ask again."

Ask. Command. Force me to do as he wants. He’ll have me on my back, bent over, on the side, over him, under him, he’ll surround me, overwhelm me, pin me down with the force of his personality. His charisma, his larger-than-life essence that will crush everything else out of me and I… I’ll love it.

"No."

"Yes."

A fact. A statement of intent, spoken aloud. So true. So real. Too real. Too much. Too fast. All of my nightmares… my dreams come to life. Everything I’ve wanted is here in front of me. I’ll die a thousand deaths before he’ll be done with me… and then, will I be reborn? For him. For me. For myself. I live first and foremost to be the woman I am… am meant to be.

"You want to run?"

No.

No.

I nod my head

He turns his head and all of the breath leaves my lungs. Blue eyes, cerulean, dark like the morning skies, deep like the nighttime, hidden corners, secrets that I don’t dare uncover. He’ll destroy me, have my heart, and break it so casually.

My throat burns. A boiling sensation squeezes my chest.

"Go then, my beauty, fly. You have until I count to five. If I catch you, you are mine."

"If you don’t?"

"Then I’ll come after you, stalk your every living moment, possess your nightmares, and steal you away in the dead of midnight, and then…"

I draw in a shuddering breath; liquid heat drips from between my legs. "Then?" I whisper.

"Then, I’ll ensure you’ll never belong to anyone else, you’ll never see the light of day again, for your every breath, your every waking second, your thoughts, your actions… and all of your words, every single last one, will belong to me." He peels back his lips, and his teeth glint in the first rays of the morning light. "Only me." He straightens to his feet, and rises, and rises.

He is massive. A beast. A monster who always gets his way. My guts churn. My toes curl. Something primal inside me insists I hold my own. I cannot give in to him. Cannot let him win whatever this is. I need to stake my ground in some form. Say something. Anything. Show him you’re not afraid of him.

"Why?" I tilt my head back, all the way back. "Why are you doing this?"

He tilts his head, his ears almost canine in the way they are silhouetted against his profile.

"Is it because you can? Is it a… a..." I blink, "a debt of some kind?"

He stills.

"My father. This is about how he betrayed the Mafia, right? You’re one of them?"

All expression is wiped clean of his face, and I know then I am right. My past… Why does it always catch up with me? You can run, but you can never hide.

"Tick-tock, Beauty." He angles his body and his shoulders shut out the sight of the sun, the dawn skies, the horizon, the city in the distance, the whisper of the grass, the trees, the rustle of the leaves... All of it fades, and leaves me and him. Us. Run.

"Five." He jerks his chin. Straightens the cuffs of his sleeves.

My knees wobble.

"Four."

My heart hammers in my chest. I should go. Leave. But my feet are welded to this earth. This piece of land where we first met. What am I, but a speck in the larger scheme of things? To be hurt. To be forgotten. To be brought to the edge of climax and taken without an ounce of retribution. To be punished... by him.

"Three." He thrusts out his chest, widens his stance, every muscle in his body relaxed. "Two."

I swallow. The pulse beats at my temples. My blood thrums.

"One."

Michael

"Go."

She pivots and races down the slope. The fabric of her dress streams behind her, scarlet in the blue morning. Her scent, lushly feminine with silver moonflowers, clings to my nose, then recedes. I reach forward, thrust out my chin, sniff the air, but there’s only the green scent of dawn. She stumbles and I jump forward. Pause when she straightens. Wait. Wait. Give her a lead. Let her think she has almost escaped, that she’s gotten the better of me… As if. I clench my fists at my sides, force myself to relax. Wait. Wait. She reaches the bottom of the incline, turns. I surge forward. One foot in front of the other, my heels dig into the grassy surface as mud flies up, clinging to the edges of my £4000 Italian pants. Like I care? Plenty more where that came from. An entire walk-in closet full of tailor-made clothes, to suit every occasion, with every possible accessory needed by a man in my position to impress… everything, except the one thing that I have coveted from the first time I had laid eyes on her. Sitting there on the grassy slope, unshed tears in her eyes, and reciting… Byron? For hell’s sake. Of all the poet’s in the world, she had to choose the Lord of Darkness.

I huff. All a ploy. Clearly, she’d known I was sitting near her… No, not possible. I had walked toward her and she hadn’t stirred, hadn’t been aware. Yeah, I am that good. I’ve been known to slice a man from ear to ear while he was awake and fully aware. Alive one second, dead the next. That’s how it is in my world. You want it, you take it. And I… I want her.

I increase my pace, eat up the distance between myself and the girl… that’s all she is. A slip of a thing, a slim blur of motion. Beauty in hiding. A diamond in the rough, waiting for me to get my hands on her, polish her, show her what it means to be… dead. She is dead. That’s why I am here.

Her skirts flash behind her, exposing a creamy length of thigh. My groin hardens; my legs wobble. I lurch over a bump in the ground. The hell? I right myself, leap forward, inching closer, closer. She reaches a curve in the path, disappears out of sight. My heart hammers in my chest. I will not lose her, will not. Here, Beauty, come to Daddy. The wind whistles past my ears. I pump my legs, lengthen my strides, turn the corner. There’s no one there, huh?

My heart hammers, the blood pounds at my wrists and my temples, and adrenaline thrums through my veins. I slow down, come to a stop. Scan the clearing.

The hairs on my forearms prickle. She’s here. Not far. Where? Where is she? I prowl across to the edge of the clearing, under the tree with its spreading branches. When I get my hands on you, Beauty, I’ll spread your legs like the pages of a poem. Dip into your honeyed sweetness, like a quill into an inkwell, drag my aching shaft across that melting weeping entrance. My balls throb. My groin tightens. The crack of a branch above shivers across my stretched nerve endings. Instinctively, I swoop forward, hold out my arms. A blur of red, dark blonde hair, skirt swept up in a gust of breeze. She drops into my arms and I close my grasp around the trembling, squirming mass of precious humanity. I cradle her close to my chest, heart beating thud-thud-thud, overwhelming any other thought.

Mine. All mine. The hell is wrong with me?She wriggles her little body, and her curves slide across my forearms. My shoulders bunch, my fingers tingle. She kicks out with her legs and arches her back. Her breasts thrust up, the nipples outlined against the fabric of her jogging vest. She’d dared come out dressed like that…? In that scrap of fabric that barely covered her luscious flesh?

"Let me go." She whips her head toward me, her hair flowing around her shoulders, across her face. She blows it out of the way. "You monster, get away from me."

Anger drums at the backs of my eyes; desire tugs at my groin. The scent of her is sheer torture, something that I had dreamed of in the wee hours of twilight when dusk turned into night. She’s not real. Not the woman I think she is. She is my downfall. My sweet poison. The bitter medicine I must imbibe to cure the ills that plague my company.

"Fine." I lower my arms and she tumbles to the floor, hits the ground butt first.

"How dare you?" She huffs out a breath, her hair messily arranged across her face.

I shove my hands into the pockets of my fitted pants, knees slightly bent, legs apart. Tip my chin down and watch her as she sprawls at my feet.

"You… dropped me?" She makes a sound deep in her throat.

So damn adorable.

"Your wish is my command." I quirk my lips.

"You don’t mean it."

"You’re right." I lean my weight forward on the balls of my feet and she flinches.

"What… what do you want?"

"You."

She pales. "You want to… rob me? I have nothing of value. I’m not carrying anything… except." She reaches for her pocket.

"Don’t." I growl.

"It’s only my phone."

"So you say, hmm?"

"You can…" She swallows, "you can trust me."

I chuckle.

"I mean, it’s not like I can deck you with a phone or anything, right?"

I glare at her and she swallows. "Fine… you… you take it."

Interesting.

"Hands behind your neck."

She hesitates.

"Now."

She instantly folds her arms at the elbows, cradles the back of her head with her palms.

I lean down and every muscle in her body tenses. Good. She’s wary. She should be. She should have been alert enough to have run as soon as she sensed my presence. But she hadn’t. And I’d delayed what was meant to happen long enough.

The Billionaire’s Bride by L. Steele

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