Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 27066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Outside, Miles is parked right in front of the restaurant. I grab the bag and lead my wife to the Kia Sorrento parked behind the limo.
“Dorian?” the driver asks as I open the back door. Matilde slides in, and I get in beside her.
“Eli?” I ask, checking my app for the driver’s name.
“Yep. Boston Tea Hotel, right?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Did you two just get married?” he asks as he pulls out into traffic.
“We did.”
“Congratulations. I’m getting married Saturday. I’m doing extra shifts driving for the rest of the week for extra honeymoon money.”
“That’s lovely. I’m sure your fiancé appreciates that.”
“He does. He wanted to go to Paris, and I’m glad that I could make it happen.”
“Paris is gorgeous this time of year. Make sure you visit the Seine at sunset at least once; the bread is to die for. There’s nothing like it.”
“You’ve been there before?”
“Yes. I studied abroad for one semester there at the Cours Florent. It was an amazing city, and Paris is gorgeous. I’d go back in a heartbeat.”
“Is that a culinary school?”
“No,” she says, laughing. “Drama school.”
“You’re an actor?”
“Not really. I’m not hirable.”
“I find that hard to believe. You look flawless in that dress, and don’t get me started on that hair.”
“Thanks Eli.”
“We’re here,” he says, pulling up in front of the hotel.
“Good luck on Saturday,” I say, punching in a tip for the man. Five thousand dollars should help him have a great honeymoon. Once Matilde and I get settled, I’ll be taking her to Paris. She sounded so wistful.
Eli’s phone pings. He looks at it as I open the car door.
“Uh, thank you. Did you mean to tip me that much?”
“Of course. Enjoy your week, don’t work yourself to death.”
“Oh, my God. Thank you,” he says, extending his hand to me. I shake it. I pull a card out of my pocket.
“You’re welcome. If you ever want to be a professional driver, call me. We could use you on our team.”
“O’Shaughnessy? I know that name… the mobster?”
“I prefer violent businessmen, but yes. Call me when you get home from your honeymoon.”
“I will. Thank you.”
We get out of the car, and he drives off. I have her hand in one of mine and our bag in the other.
“How much did you tip him?” she asks as we walk into the hotel.
“Five thousand.”
“Dollars?” she sputters.
“Yes. He seems like a good guy.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“I can read people.”
“Hmm,” she says as we reach the reception desk.
“Welcome to the Boston Tea Hotel. Checking in?”
“Yes. O’Shaughnessy.”
“Ah, yes. The newlyweds. In the Presidential Suite. Your elevator is on the left. Just hit P, and it will open in the living room. Your key is the only one that will open the doors. I have taken the liberty of sending chilled champagne and strawberries up. They are in the refrigerator upstairs. Congratulations, and thank you for choosing us to spend your wedding night with. The charges have already been taken care of.”
“Thanks,” I say, taking the key from him.
I have to force myself to keep steady and not run across the lobby to the elevator. I swipe the key card, and the doors open immediately. I pull her into the car and swipe the card again, pressing the P. I feel her stiffen again next to me.
“Are you nervous, Matilde?”
“No. Of course not.”
I lean down and press a kiss on her bare shoulder.
“Good girl,” I murmur. She turns her head and looks at me over her shoulder, biting her lip.
Fuck, I want those lips.
I want her entire body wrapped around me.
Dreams do come true.
EIGHT
MATILDE
This is happening. Now. It’s happening now. I am about to get fucked.
By my captor.
My husband.
My protector?
I can’t help thinking that this is still some kind of elaborate joke. Especially when I saw Chrissy. That would just be the icing on the cake of my life. I almost died of embarrassment. She was my worst nightmare in school. From kindergarten through high school, she was Little Miss Perfect. I hated the looks of pity on my new family’s faces. I fucking froze, and I was once again that fat little girl who couldn’t deal with her bullies.
I’m standing in the fanciest hotel I’ve ever been in. I’m with my husband and don’t know what to do now. He sets the bag down on the floor and moves toward the kitchen. I move toward the window and see the view of the harbor. It’s a breathtaking view, and the history of the spot feels like it’s all around.
I hear a champagne bottle uncork, and music starts playing. Why is he dragging this out? I’m so freaking nervous, and I don’t want to be. For once, I want to be the confident woman who knows what she wants and goes for it. Instead, this man makes me even more insecure than I would normally be.