Chapter 4

“I can’t believedear old granddad finally got to you,” Maria coos as she straightens my tie.

“Fear not, dear sis, for tomorrow I’ll still be the man I am today.”

“Did you choose a pretty Irish lass as your mate to piss off our ancestors?”

“Most certainly, and stop using the term ‘mate’. It’s weird.”

“But isn’t that what she is? A mate? Someone to breed with? My own dear husband helps run the family business. What is your pretty nineteen-year-old bride good at other than spreading her legs? If she’s even good at that. She is a virgin, after all.”

“Do I sense a hint of jealousy?”

She chuckles. “Why would I care who you wed or bed, dear brother?”

“Because your own husband smells like mothballs.”

She frowns, her lip sneering above her left canine. “Don’t remind me.”

“If you’ll excuse me, it’s time I introduce myself to my bride.”

Maria gives me a saucy smile. “You mean you haven’t met her yet?”

“It was intentional. I don’t want her feeling as though she has control over me, is at all important, or that I give a fuck about how she feels.”

“Father trained you well.”

Her words sting more than they should, as my father was the perfect example of how not to carry on a family line. But there’s no point dwelling on the dead.

“I’ll see you inside the chapel,” I tell her, then make my way through the cathedral to the bridal suite, walking straight in without knocking.

A sea of white covers half the room with a shock of red at its center.

Her pictures hardly do her justice.

Ivy gasps when she sees me, her big green eyes full of fear and uncertainty.

“You are not supposed to be in here?” an obnoxiously feminine voice snaps, and from Ivy’s left, more red appears, storming toward me to shoo me from the room.

“You must be Herminia,” I say to the older version of my bride. Three other women are in the room attending to my wife, but they know better than to look at me.

Ivy’s mom comes over, tilts her head to the side, and smiles. “Call me mom.”

“I’ll call you whatever I like,” I say, pushing past her.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she teases.

“I’m the one paying for these quarters, so I have more right to the room than you.”

A small smile curls on Ivy’s lips, sad and stoic yet utterly beautiful. She stirs something in me. Something dark and predatory and not at all bound by the rules of man.

In just an hour, I’ll own her. Body and soul. How she feels about that, I cannot say. Nor do I care.

“I told you not to cover your freckles.”

She brings her hands up to her face. “I…I?—”

I turn to one of the women tending to her. “Uncover her freckles—now!”

“But sir, there isn’t time for that.”

“Does it look like I fucking care?”

The woman rushes to her makeup kit to undo the damage she’s done.

“You’re not to conceal them again,” I tell her.

“Understood.”

Good girl…

“Everyone but Ivy—out!”

Her mother hesitates, but retreats before I bark at her.

Once the door closes, I turn to my bride and lift her long dress, bunching it in my hands as I draw forward.

She cowers, but is unable to back away because she’s on a stool and would likely fall.

“I had this dress custom made to your measurements in three days. Do you have any idea what that cost me?”

She shakes her head no.

“Enough for me to request a downpayment.” I sink to my knees, pulling her dress above her waist. “Hold this for me.”

Her hands shake as she fumbles with the fabric, but she obeys.

I press my eyes closed to savor the anticipation. Rarely am I ever this fucking eager for anyone, but Ivy is not like the women I typically go for, because I care nothing for sweetness. In fact, I loathe it in every form.

Except when it comes to Ivy. On her, it’s decadent.

I open my eyes, allowing myself to glimpse her in her white lace panties. I picked them out myself, ensuring that while they’d cover everything, they’d hide nothing from my hungry gaze.

I hook my finger through the side and pull the garment away from her sex so that I might see what I so crave.

Soft, sweet, bare. Deliciously elegant.

“Why have you never taken a lover before?” When she hesitates, I continued with, “Don’t you dare lie to me.”

“Because I was saving myself.”

“For a rich husband?”

“Yes.”

Smart girl.

“Have you done anything?”

“No.”

“Not even kiss?”

“Correct.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You should. It was my mother that saw to my chastity. If it were up to me, I’d have shed it long ago.”

I smile as I rip her panties clean off her body. With them out of the way, I spread her lower lips so that I might look upon her pretty pink slit.

“Have you ever thought about sex?”

“Yes.”

“Have you touched yourself?”

“Very little.”

“Have you wondered what it would feel like to have a man lick you?”

She pauses as she considers my words.

Before she answers, I lean forward and kiss her sweet pink pearl, swirling my tongue around the tiny bud. She gasps, and tries to back away, nearly falling from the stool she’s perched on.

I pull away and rise to a stand, towering over her despite the stool.

“Did you like that?” I ask her.

She’s still holding her dress, though her hands are shaking so violently, it’s a wonder it doesn’t tear.

When she doesn’t answer me, I take her chin, directing her gaze to mine. Then I pull out my wedding gift to her, dangling it in front of her face.

It’s a collar, light pink, roughly one centimeter in diameter, with a small heart charm. I hold the charm in front of her so that she can read the inscribed ‘Mateo’.

“You’re to wear this always,” I tell her.

“Even during our wedding?” she asks.

“Excuse me?” I say pointedly.

“I mean…understood.”

“It has a lock and key, so you wouldn’t be able to take it off if you tried.”

She nods.

“Good girl,” I tell her as I reach through her hair to secure the necklace around her neck.

“There, now everyone will know you are mine.”

Her cheeks flush crimson, which I decide that I like. I’m going to make her blush a lot.

My phone buzzes, and I look to see a text from Lance.

Lance: DO NOT GO THROUGH WITH THE WEDDING!

I give Ivy a smile before exiting the room to call the riled PI.

When he picks up, I growl out, “I just filled a damn cathedral at the last minute to marry this chick, so this better be good.”

“She’s a black widow.”

“A what?”

“A black-fucking-widow.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Not much is known about them, but they basically marry wealthy men and off their husbands.”

“There’s no way Ivy could be one. She’s a nineteen year old virgin.”

“Then you’re her first job.”

“How do you know this?”

“I was only able to ascertain it from the video you sent of your video call. That woman that entered the picture, her mother, is all kinds of bad news, and if Ivy is her daughter, you can be damn sure she’s a widow.”

I plug my opposite ear to make sure nothing he says goes unheard. “Are you saying that Ivy intends to kill me?”

“Sure am.”

“Tonight?”

“No, that’s the thing about widows. They’re careful. She’ll wait until she’s pregnant, then, at the height of your joy—BAM! Dead.”

I think over his words, and a new plan begins to coalesce.

“And you’re sure she must be pregnant?”

“Uh-huh. It’s a widow thing. It ensures they’ll get a bigger cut to your estate when you’re gone.”

“In-ter-est-ing…”

“Unfortunately, there’s no point in reporting her, because there’s no evidence and so much of what I’ve found is…seedily obtained. You just need to leave, right the hell now.”

“I don’t think I will.”

“Excuse me? She will fucking kill you, no questions asked.”

“Oh, no she won’t. She’ll give me my heir I need so desperately, even if she has to give birth in jail.”

And after she’s gone, I’ll be free.