Chapter 29

Quentin

"So, this is it?" Knox straightens my bow tie.

I swipe away his hand. "I'm good."

"Are you?" Sinclair, my other groomsman drawls from my other side. We're standing in front of the wedding arch, which has been erected in the garden of his townhouse in Primrose Hill.

Given we decided to hold the wedding overnight, instead of waiting for a few more weeks, the problem of finding a venue was resolved when Sinclair offered it up. It's the same place he married, he said. And given how happy he is with Summer, I took it as a sign to say yes.

Summer reached out to Raven and confirmed that her sister would ensure the wedding dress would be delivered in time for the ceremony. As for the paperwork, I took care of it. Nothing the Davenport contacts and fortune couldn't sort out. I've spent my life running from my family name, only to find myself flaunting it in order to tie the most precious thing I've come across in my life to my side. There"s an irony hidden somewhere in the situation, but I refuse to contemplate it. All that matters is that I"m marrying her, and I"m never letting her go.

"What makes you think I'm not?" I scowl at Sinclair.

"The fact that you've been muttering to yourself for the last ten minutes?" Nathan murmurs. He's my third self-appointed groomsman. I didn't ask any of them; I didn't think that far out, but they'd beat me to it. They turned up this morning and announced their intentions, and I didn't decline. It makes no difference to me. All that matters is her, and that she gets the wedding she deserves.

My son counts, too. Telling him the wedding was going ahead sooner than planned is the least I could do. The coming days and months aren't going to be easy, but I'm going to see it through. I'm not running away from the confrontation this time. I'm going to prove to my son that this is the right decision for all of us. I'm going to prove to her that I am the man for her.

I take in a deep breath, another. Pretend this is another mission— a life and death one. The most important one you've ever been on—get your thoughts under control.

I roll my shoulders, then crack my neck. Close my eyes and drop into that place inside of me, that part I accessed each time I needed to find the calm to take out enemy targets.

Only this time, what fills my mind is the image of her face, her green eyes filled with desire, her lips parted and glistening and waiting to be wrapped around my cock; the blush on her cheeks as I nip on her mouth, the creamy column of her throat, so untouched and ready to be marked by me, the curve of her shoulder, which I will bite as I mount her, her trembling breasts, the nipples ripe and ready to be plucked by my fingers; her fingers digging into my hair, the moans that swell her throat. The way I"ll stare into her eyes as I breach her, the very moment she realizes we fit together as I place my hand on her chest, feel her heartbeat in tandem with mine, feel her pulse rate soar, the sweat clinging to the cleavage between her breasts as she realizes she's mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

"—Quentin, get a hold of yourself."

Knox's voice slices through my thoughts. I force my attention back to his face. "What did you say?"

He searches my features, and a smirk twists his lips. "You're pussy-whipped."

"And I wear it as a badge of honor."

He blinks slowly.

"You didn't say that."

"As someone who's part of the same club, I concur." Sinclair grins.

"I second that." Nathan inclines his head.

"The three of you wankers need to mind your own business," I growl.

"Why should we, when it's so much fun to be all up in yours?" Sinclair chortles. "The look on your face, man—and to think, your journey into the far reaches of this rollercoaster is only beginning."

"Fuck you, too," I say without heat.

Knox looks at the three of us in disgust. "What the fuck am I doing here in the company of you wusses?"

Sinclair and Nathan exchange looks.

"You thinking what I am?" Sinclair drawls.

"That he's protesting too much?" Nathan smirks.

"Who bets he's up next?" Sinclair's grin widens.

Nathan pretends to think, then shakes his head. "Not taking that one."

"The fuck you two talking about?" Knox lowers his chin to his chest.

"I don't think you want to find out in a hurry. I—" an electric shock runs up my spine. My muscles stiffen.

I turn to find her standing at the bottom of the aisle. From the corner of my eye, I notice that my nephew, Edward, who's going to officiate the marriage, has joined us. The seats around me have filled up with our friends while I'd been busy trying to calm my mind. I spot Arthur and Imelda in the front row, they're holding hands.

Then I see my son step up to my bride. What the hell? What's he doing dressed in a tux and why is her arm hooked through his?

Is he going to give her away? That feels like a selfless gesture on Felix"s part. It implies a maturity I hadn't thought he had. It implies a blessing of, or at least approval of, our marriage, something I have only dreamed off. In fact, this feels like the conciliatory gesture from Felix which I have longed for. My mind says to accept it for it is, an attempt at burying our differences. But something primal in me is unable to get over the fact that another man is touching her. So what if he's my son? And that he's doing this to show he's ready to move past our differences. She's mine and I cannot stomach any other male near her.

She moves closer, her gaze soft, her gait slow. Her eyes connect with mine, and in them, I see an emotion which calms the jealousy that's infiltrated every part of my body. There's also a pleading in them… She's asking me to play along, to not react. I scowl at her, and her gaze widens.

If she thinks she can lead me on this… She's wrong. I'm the one who sets the pace. If she wanted my son to walk her down the aisle, she need only have asked. If she wanted to stage a reconciliation between us, she could have shared her plans. Sure, I'd have shot it down, but that point is moot. She didn't tell me what her plans were knowing what my response would be. She knew how pissed I'd be, but she went ahead and did it anyway.

I glare at her, and some of the color fades from her cheeks. I promise her retribution with my gaze. I promise to spank her arse for this bratty gesture. My fingers tingle.

And almost as if she senses it, her gaze flicks to my hand, then back to my face. She flicks out the tip of her pink tongue and touches it to her lower lip. All the blood drains to my groin. Fucking hell, at this rate I'm not going to be able to last the length of the ceremony.

I school all emotion from my features, and when I set my jaw, she swallows. She raises her chin, and in that gesture, I realize I've underestimated this woman. She's ready to go toe-to-toe with me, even if it means I'm going to teach her never to defy me. She's stubborn and adamant, and fuck, if I don't fall for her in that moment.