3. Gemma

"Welcome to Drakóspito Manor." My new husband—husband, eek!—rumbles in that deep, velvety baritone of his as he ushers me into what can only be described as a freakin" palace.

I trail behind him in a daze, gaping shamelessly at the soaring ceilings, polished marble, and glittering chandeliers. It"s like Disney threw up all over the place.

"Manor?" I echo weakly. Holy crap, he lives in a manor! La-ti-da.

The place is bigger than my entire apartment building. Possibly bigger than my entire block.

He arches an eyebrow at my dumbfounded expression, the corner of that sinfully sculpted mouth quirking upward. "You approve?"

I snort indelicately. Yeah, I approve. I feel a little like Oliver Twist right now, but I'm used to being a pauper. Who is this guy? Besides looking like a male cover model, he's stinking rich?

This can't be happening. Not to me. It's way too good to be true. And you know what they say about things that seem too good to be true.

I can"t help feeling out of my depth.

I notice my cover model husband is waiting for my reply.

"It"s uh...it"s nice," I mumble, before groaning internally. Nice? Totally uncool. "Uh…Very nice." Ugh. Great work, Gemma. Smooth and classy as always.

"I"m glad you approve."Those mesmerizing violet eyes of his sparkle with what looks like genuine warmth. A tiny shiver skitters down my spine and my breath catches in my throat.

Good grief, I swear this guy is oozing the most potent masculine pheromones that ever existed. Or I'm just wildly undersexed. Well, I am undersexed. That's true.

Being this close to all that ripped, tuxedo-clad perfection is making it really difficult for me to cling to my fragile sanity.

He extends his arm in an exaggerated courtly gesture and I can"t help but giggle a little, rolling my eyes as I loop my hand around the crook of his elbow. For a rich dude, Sebastian seems pretty down-to-earth. So far at least.

Of course, that"s when he decides to start parading me past suits of shiny armor, towering marble statues, and interior gardens dripping with exotic flora. A freaking fountain bubbles merrily in one cavernous room, complete with a terracotta Greek god figure, for crying out loud.

"You"re not overcompensating for anything, are you?" The sarcastic quip tumbles out before I can rein it in and I blush from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes. Oh, god, If only I could hit rewind on the past two seconds.

Much to my surprise, Sebastian tosses back his head and lets loose rich peals of deep laughter that have my insides doing somersaults. When he looks at me with dancing eyes, I"m struck by just how warm and vibrant those gem-toned depths are. Despite his otherworldly good looks, there"s something remarkably down to earth about the man.

"No, I am not overcompensating. I can assure you, I possess no shortcomings in that area," he says with an amused wink.

As we continue weaving through his maze of luxury, it strikes me just how weird and sudden this whole situation is. Like, eight hours ago, I was hunching over my laptop editing a batch of ASMR videos, packaging my latest Etsy orders, and destined for a homeless shelter. Now here I am, wed to a billionaire and being shown around a literal mansion.

You are now entering the Twilight Zone, Gemma.

And yet, as bizarre and disorienting as all this is, I"m still me underneath it all. Cracking sarcastic jokes and feeling intensely self-conscious, as usual. Maybe moreso.

My internal monologue continues nattering on about how utterly surreal everything is as Sebastian steers me out into a lavish courtyard garden that could serve as a setting for an Italian Rennaisance fresco. I abruptly lose my train of thought as we step outside onto the intricately tiled walkway, the warm spring evening air caressing my face. The view is breathtaking, with terraces and balustrades and an endless vista of glittering city lights and swaying palm trees in the distance. It"s a picture postcard fantasy.

I"m so enraptured by the sight, drinking it all in with unabashed awe, that I nearly jump out of my skin when Sebastian leans in close, his lips brushing my ear.

"Are you ready to head to bed for the night?" he purrs in that sinfully velvet tone. Goosebumps instantly spread across my flesh and I swallow hard at the potent rush of desire that simple question unleashes.

Oh. Wow.

Right. The wedding night. That"s...uh, that"s next on the agenda, isn"t it?

My eyes flick up to meet his, my cheeks heating from the electric undercurrents and crazy chemistry between us. I was almost able to shove it all to the side for a while there, getting sidetracked by the palatial tour and my own relentless inner chatter, but with the dark promise shining in Sebastian"s bedroom eyes, I"m suddenly hyper-aware of the needy throb between my legs.

Intimacy has been firmly on the back burner for me for the last...oh, six or so years. Ever since my daughter, Jewel, was born and promptly diagnosed and the medical costs started eating through every spare cent I could scrape together like PacMan gobbling coins.

Sex is a luxury I haven't have time for. Not while I'm stuck in an endless cycle of work, sleep deprivation, and worry. So, naturally, now that I"m presented with what"s essentially a steamy romance cover model come to life—broad shoulders, granite jaw, bedroom eyes, and that raw masculine scent coloring the very air like an aphrodisiac—the poor starving sexual goddess I've buried is about ready to jump up out of her slumber and answer the call with unbridled hedonism.

Honestly, what"s even the point in fighting it? I may have taken part in some kooky bride lottery program, but Sebastian is very real and apparently very into me. Does it really matter that we barely know each other? The physical connection crackling between us is undeniable. Since when does sex have to be about more than getting your rocks off?

Besides, if this little arrangement is actually going to work out for the long haul—and at this moment, a part of me very much hopes it will—shouldn"t Sebastian and I start getting to know each other in the Biblical sense? I am his wife now, after all.

With those thoughts swirling in my lust-addled mind, I find myself tugging Sebastian closer by the lapels of his tuxedo jacket. I catch the flare of heat that flashes in his eyes just before our mouths crash hungrily together.

His powerful hands grip my hips with enough force to bruise and I can"t help the whimper that escapes me.

Whatever"s about to happen, I'm one-hundred percent here for it.