Our Finest Moment ✔️

26

COLTON

There are two things that will keep me going through this dreadful day. One, whiskey—lots and lots of whiskey. Two, the promise I made Liana that I'd either punish her or reward her some time today. I hope it'll be the former, if I'm being honest, because I have way too much pent up anger.

And I want to punish her for somehow making me think white was a good idea. It's not. I'm staring at the proof right now, and even though my black shirt and tie somehow salvages it, I already know this dumb jacket is leaving my body as soon as the ceremony is done with.

Liana is not what I expected at all when I walked into the cell and saw that little girl hunched together against the wall. She's feisty, fiery and stubborn, too much for her own good, and even if a part of me is slowly starting to miss her sharp tongue when we avoid each other, I'm also starting to regret making the decision to get her father's soldiers on my side. She might look like she belong next to me, her curves starting to show themselves more and more, and her ocean eyes so deep and full of spite, but she doesn't.

If anything, she'd have belonged six feet under, with her parents. And god knows I've tried to figure out how she lived. The only explanation I've found to be plausible is that they didn't know she was there—which means they were amateurs, and then I know for sure my father and his closest people had nothing to do with Henderson's demise.

I was worried that would blow up in my face, and that Liana would flip out if she found out I forced her into marriage after my father killed both her parents, but that can't have happened. My dad is a monster worse than me, and a worse man altogether, but he's not an amateur, someone who wouldn't know his target had a child in the next room. He would've known, and Liana would be just as dead as them.

And I wouldn't be marrying her today.

At least she can't flip out over that, but there's plenty of other things she can throw in my face to make my life miserable. When I voiced that concern to Mark the other day, he just grinned and said, "That's wives for you," like I can't do shit to hold her in check.

Maybe I can't.

I'll try, though. I'll try my best to keep her tongue and hands tied at all times, or I will edge, choke and spank her until there's no tomorrow as punishment. I try to dampen my rising anger with the knowledge that I will undoubtedly make her understand the ground rules once and for all tonight. I've set them, and she's followed them—as far as I know—which makes her prone to a reward I'm not sure I want to give as I again look at the white jacket and pants she decided for me.

I'm tempted to take them off and go for an all black suit, like I usually do, but there's a tiny voice in my head that tells me she will expect that. The surprise in her eyes when she sees me following her command will be worth it.

Marriage is a two-way street. I have to show that to everyone else I know to make sure it's believable. I have to pretend she's got my balls in the palm of her hand, and only when we're alone can I show her how much it displeases me.

So I run a hand through my hair and narrow my gaze at myself—and I know I look good—deciding that I'll do it. For the ruse. For the audience. No one will think I chose white for myself, and their surprise will be enough to convince them I've fallen deeply in love with my bride.

Rina walks into the room as I turn around, and she leans against the doorframe, her slender figure clad in a suit as black as what I want. A pang of jealousy rattles my body, but not enough to show.

"You ready, boss?" She grins widely as she takes me in, a chuckle leaving her lips.

"Yes," I reply shortly, ignoring her amusement.