The Marriage Clause (Dirty Sexy Rich 1)

“The next starlet who wants to sit on my lap can sit on the floor,” I promised with a crooked grin, and she released my hair.

“Good boy,” she said, gesturing with a wide smile. “Continue with what you were about to do.”

I laughed and then set about turning her inside out in ways only I could. Until the day I died, the sound of her gasping in pleasure would forever be the greatest gift she could ever give me.

I was the luckiest man alive to have Katherine Oliver by my side.

And I would never forget it.

EPILOGUE

“YOU SURE YOU’RE ready to do this?” Nico asked, adjusting my tie, looking to me for confirmation that I wasn’t going to ditch my bride and run on cold feet from the Gothic Catholic church. The bells rang out through the city, announcing a Donato was tying the knot.

I smiled at my little brother without a hint of jitters or nerves. For the first time ever, I felt 100 percent sure that what was happening was right.

“Nic, she’s everything I ever wanted before I knew what I wanted.”

Nico grinned ruefully, saying with a lifted brow, “I have no idea what that means, but if that dopey smile on your face is any indication that you’re ready...I guess you are. You look drunk, by the way—and by God, if you say drunk on love, I’ll fucking vomit.”

“I hope you get to experience what I’m feeling right now someday.”

“No, thanks,” Nico said with good humor. “I’m not the marrying kind. No offense to your girl, but I need more variety than one woman for the rest of my life.”

“When you find the right woman, a lifetime spent with her will never be enough.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Dante appeared, his hard expression barely softening as he said, “It’s time.” I’d hoped that Dante would loosen up after our father retired, but if anything he was more wound up than ever, and we’d gone head-to-head more than once at the office.

But today was about my bride, and Dante, at the very least, respected that boundary, even if he looked like he’d sucked a lemon before donning his tuxedo.

I laughed and clapped Nico on the shoulder. “Let’s go make an honest man out of me.”

“That would take an act of God, and I really don’t think anyone checked that off on the gift registry. But, hey, we can at least manage hitching you to one fine woman. How’s that?”

“Sounds good to me.” I tugged at my jacket sleeves, ensuring everything was perfect, and exhaled slowly. “Let’s do this.”

I walked with my brothers, ready to marry the woman of my dreams, and I was struck by an incredible sense of gratitude. I could’ve lost her. Someone must’ve been on my side, because there was a moment when the scales could’ve tipped the other way. I shuddered to think of how things could’ve gone wrong.

Everything had worked out—that was all that mattered.

We took our places at the front of the church, Father Gabriel smiling. Familiar faces stared back at me, some smiling, some not. A Donato wedding was a spectacle for East Coast society. Everyone sitting in a pew was among a select few, and some wore their smug satisfaction as surely as their girdles holding every bit of flesh in their designer clothes.

The popular bridal song “Canon in D” by Pachelbel began and everyone turned as Katherine, my incredible lady, appeared, a vision in cloud white, a gown fit for a queen.

The crowd murmured at her beauty, stunned by the upswept red hair, blazing tendrils caressing her porcelain face, a dainty tiara perched on top.

My heart swelled with so much love, tears sprang to my eyes.

But fuck it, I didn’t care who saw me cry.

My eyes were locked on her.

Life was too good to be true.

My father had retired, and with him went his old-school ways. I was in the process of rooting out the lingering aftertaste of his archaic policies, and I’d burned any evidence of my soon-to-be-wife’s contract.

Katherine was my equal—my partner—she chose me as much as I chose her.

And she was pregnant.

We weren’t telling anyone just yet. The baby was our little secret.

She fucking glowed.

I couldn’t wait to carry her over the threshold of our new place—a modest house we’d picked out together—that was a far enough drive from the Donato estate to create a buffer, but not so far that my mother would squawk about not being able to see her new grandchild.

A tiny shiver skipped down my back, and Nico caught the subtle movement. “You okay?” he murmured, shooting me a worried look. “You got this?”

I responded with a slow, sure smile. Oh, yes, I had this—and I was never letting go.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from HER DIRTY LITTLE SECRET by JC Harroway.

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