“Ryat?” she whispers, moving onto her back.
“Yeah, little one?” I ask, my fingers running down her neck, stopping to feel the strong rhythm of her pulse.
Her heavy lashes lift for the briefest second, soft blue eyes meet mine before falling shut once again. “Take a nap with me.”
“Whatever my girl wants,” I say, removing my clothes and climbing into bed next to her. She rolls, giving me her back, and I cuddle up to her warm body, pulling her into me. Within seconds, she’s back to sleep.
BLAKELY
I EXPECTED BEINGmarried to feel different. I always had this dark cloud hanging over my head that I was expecting to open up and drown me once I married Matt. That’s not even close to what it feels like being married to Ryat.
It’s a freeing feeling that I can’t even begin to explain. The only thing I can compare it to is when you’re swimming and come up for air. That burning sensation in your lungs, that tightness in your chest. When you break the surface and get that first breath and feeling the sun on your face. That’s what Ryat is to me.
My sun. My air.
We spent two days away together doing nothing but having sex when we played the cat and mouse game. We could have literally done that at my apartment or at his cabin in the woods. Instead, he had my father’s pilot take us to one of his parents’ vacation houses in the middle of nowhere. It was cold, wet, and started to snow. We spent every second indoors screwing all over the house. Even joined the mile-high club on the way back. It was by far the best vacation I’ve ever had. And not one tan line to show for it. I’ve been doing it wrong all these years, sitting on beaches with Sarah.
The moment we touched back down in Pennsylvania we went and applied for our marriage license. Three days later we were at city hall getting married.
I look down at the ring on my finger and run my thumb over it. It’s still hard to comprehend. It’s like a dream. One that I could have never imagined. I guess you would call that weekend we had away our honeymoon because we didn’t have time to get out of town after we said I do.
I stand in Ryat’s bathroom at the house of Lords, looking at myself in his mirror. My hair is up in a French twist, my makeup done heavily with silver and black eye shadow with thick black liner on top and bottom, with extra thick mascara and matte red lips.
Running my hands down the white satin gown, I take in a deep breath. Tonight’s the ceremony. To say I’m nervous is an understatement. I’m not sure what to expect. But one thing is for sure, I’m no longer Blakely Anderson. Now I’m Blakely Archer—Ryat’s wife.
It isn’t hard to say or comprehend. I understand what we did. I also understand that I’ll never leave him. I owe Ryat that. My commitment. My body. My heart? Do I have to love him too? Or is the rest enough?
The fact that he was even willing to save me from Matt is good enough for me.
“Blake, you ready?” I hear Ryat call out, entering his room.
“Yeah,” I say, turning around to stand in the doorway of the bathroom just as he enters.
He comes to a stop; his emerald eyes drop to the train on my dress and slowly run up over the fitted material that hugs me like a glove. There’s a slit up my right leg, so high, I wasn’t even able to wear any underwear because it comes up past my hip. The satin material covers my chest, coming up high up in the front, to where it wraps around my neck, two silk pieces tie in the back in a big bow leaving the leftover satin to fall over the open back. Every time I move, I feel the soft and cool material glide across my skin, making me shiver. The entire back is cut out, dipping to the top of my ass.
I didn’t wear a dress to city hall. Instead, I chose a white suit. But tonight, I wanted to dress up for him. He once told me he was proud to call me his chosen after we performed the vow ceremony. I wanted him to feel that way tonight, knowing that I’m now his wife.
My heart begins to race, breaths coming in quick bursts at the way he looks at me. His emerald eyes slowly run up and down several times.
Reaching up, he pulls on his bow tie and clears his throat. Taking a step toward me, I take one back, and he stops. “Are you going to burn it?” I ask nervously. It’s revealing, showing off my bare back, leg, and hip along with a little side boob. But somehow, even the parts of my body it covers, I still feel exposed.
He begins to walk toward me again, and this time, I don’t retreat.
Coming up to me, he cups my face, his eyes searching mine. “No,” he whispers, his eyes dropping to my covered chest. “Blake … you look stunning.”
I blush, letting out a long breath, and drop my head, unable to help the smile that spreads across my face.
There’s a knock on the door right before it swings open. “Ryat?”
I look up, and he snaps, “What?”
“You’re needed, man,” Gunner informs him then looks at me. Winking, he gives me a thumbs-up. “Hot wife.”
My cheeks burn. I still can’t believe we did that.
“Gunner …” Ryat starts.
“I’m not leaving.” He enters the room and crosses his arms over his chest with a playful smile on his face.
Ryat growls deep in his chest and turns to face me. “I’ll meet you out there.” He places a kiss on my cheek and turns, walking out.
Taking a second to myself, I close my eyes and inhale deeply, trying to slow my racing heart. I exit the room, making sure to shut and lock his bedroom door behind me before pocketing the key in my clutch that barely fits my cell phone.
Making my way to the ballroom, I look for Ryat or Sarah but don’t see them anywhere. The place is packed. Decorated with white twinkling lights and soft piano music. So different from when I was here the first time.
“Would you like a glass of champagne, miss?”
I go to tell her no, afraid of my last experience. Now is not the time to get drunk or drugged. But she pops the cork and grabs a flute. “Yes, please.”
Handing it to me, I thank her and take a sip.
The lights dim down a little, the music coming to a stop, and so does all the conversations.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.”
I turn to face the stage, seeing Ryat stand in the middle with a microphone in his hand. “I want to thank you all for attending the annual house of Lords ceremony.”
I take another sip.
“It’s been a long four years,” he says, running his hand across his chin as in thought.
I frown, wondering what he means by that.
“As a Lord, we’re taught to never accept defeat. To never give up on what we want.”
His eyes are looking past me, over my shoulder. I turn to see what he’s staring at and regret it the moment I do. It’s Matt. He stands there, dressed in a suit and tie like the others, and his girlfriend is wearing a black sequined dress with a plunging neckline to show off her assets. Giving them my back, I turn to face the stage once again.
“Some of us will never know defeat. Others will never know victory,” Ryat goes on. “But what I can tell you is those who don’t try will never know what they are capable of.”
I take a sip of the champagne.
“Blakely,” he calls out my name.
And I snort into my drink. Then quickly wipe it off my chin, praying it didn’t spill on my dress. Not again! Last time, I left a party here covered in alcohol.
I look up at him wide-eyed.
He stands there, looking every bit of a powerful man dressed in an expensive tux, hair slicked back and clean shaven. He’s so gorgeous.
“For those of you who don’t know, Blakely is my chosen.”
What is he doing?My hand holding the flute starts to shake.
“Sometimes, you get lucky in life. And I can say that I’m the luckiest man in this room.”
Oh, God. No. no. no.
“Just look at her.” He gestures to me with his left hand and my eyes go straight to his wedding band. The thought that he’s mine fills my stomach with butterflies. “She’s amazing, breathtaking, good hearted and a hundred percent mine.”
Don’t do it …
“As of yesterday, I can add my wife to that.”
Audible gasps fill the large room, and I hold my breath. “The stunning Mrs. Blakely Rae Archer, everyone.” He introduces me to hundreds of people.
I give a shaky smile to the applause given to us that follows, wishing the floor would fucking swallow me up.
Ryat walks down the stairs and comes over to me, people moving out of his way.
“What are you doing?” I hiss under my breath.
He takes my drink from my hands and passes it off to a server who walks by. He spins me around, pulling me into his body, not answering me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
RYAT
FUCK EVERY SINGLE goddamn one of them!
“Ryat,” she whispers. Her eyes darting around the room.
I begin to dance with her. One hand on her bare back, the other coming up to cup her face while “Broken” by Lifehouse starts to play through the speakers in the ballroom.
She nibbles on her bottom lip nervously and her eyes continue to look around the room, looking at everyone as they watch us.
Coming to a stop, I run my knuckles down her cheek and along her jaw before lifting her face to mine. She licks her lips, wetting the matte red lipstick. I run my thumb over it, lowering my face to hers. Her pretty blue eyes stare up at me, and it’s like everyone else in the room fades away. She only has eyes for me, but everyone is looking at her. My wife.
I never really gave much thought to my marriage. That was because I never really cared about it. I looked at it more like a contract. And even though this is exactly what it was, it feels like more.
She licks her painted lips and I lean down, pressing mine to hers. I kiss her. The first time I kissed her was yesterday standing at the city hall, vowing my life to hers. The thought had never crossed my mind. Now? Now I can’t get enough of them. Doesn’t matter what we’ve done, this feels more intimate than any of it.
Her tongue meets mine and I taste the champagne. It’s as sweet as her. She kisses me with so much passion, so needy. It’s as if she’s breathing for me.
She stood in this very spot just weeks ago, and all I could think of was that I was going to take her from a man I hated. Now, all I can think of is spending the rest of my life with her.
I lift my hands to her neck, making sure everyone watching can see my ring, tilting my head to the side of her face and open my eyes. They land on Matt, who stands behind her, just like I knew they would. I hope they say everything I’m thinking.
I fucking win!
The way his narrow on me and his fists clench, he gets the message. He grabs Ashley and spins around, running off with her.
Slowing the kiss down, I pull away. Her heavy eyes slowly open to look up at me. “I owed you a dance, Mrs. Archer.” I finally answer her question, and her body melts into mine. A look of pure admiration written all over her Barbie doll face, and it makes me smile. I want to see that more from her.
It can’t hurt to have your wife fall in love with you, right?
I feel like it won’t take much.
BLAKELY
I MAKE MYway down the hallway to Ryat’s bedroom. Three glasses of champagne later and countless handshakes with the congratulations have got me needing to pee. I unlock the door and then shut it behind me. I’m washing my hands when I hear his bedroom door open and close. “Have you seen Sarah tonight?” I ask, turning it off and grabbing a towel to dry my hands.
Spinning around, I go to step back into the bedroom, but someone steps in front of me, blocking my way. I go to scream when they shove me into the bathroom, but a hand is slapped over my face, and I’m shoved up against the wall.
I look up into a set of baby-blue eyes. I start screaming behind his hand.
“Shh, Blakely. I just want to talk.” He removes his hand and raises them both in front of him.
I suck in a deep breath, “What are you doing, Matt?” I snap. If Ryat finds him in here, he’ll kick his ass.
“I need to talk to you.”
I shove his chest, but he doesn’t budge. “There’s nothing for us to say.” Making a fist, I pound it into his suit.
He sighs and steps back, allowing me space to exit the bathroom. I rush through the bedroom, and my hand reaches the doorknob when he speaks. “He paid your father five hundred thousand to marry you.”
I stop and turn to face him. A laugh bubbles up in my chest, but I force it down. “You’re lying,” Men don’t pay for their wives. That’s the kind of shit you see in movies.
He goes on. “Your phone. He tracks you with it.”
My pulse races at his words. “No …”
“Your incoming calls and texts. He blocks them.” He growls.
My knees start to buckle at the blow to my chest his words have on me, but I manage to stay standing. But I argue, “He couldn’t …”
“Think about it. Your mom has told me that she can’t reach you. I’ve tried calling and texting you.” He steps toward me, and I’m frozen in my spot. “That weekend he went to New York but came home early, he blocked Sarah’s number so she couldn’t call you to come party here without him.”
Tears start to sting my eyes at how much sense his words are making, but I don’t want to believe it. “No. How would he …?”