Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol 1)

I wanted her for her connections. I wanted her for revenge. Her body was a bonus—or at least, I had hoped it would be. However, despite not having her body, I found her smiles to be the bonus—her laughter. Not that I’d admit it. Hell, it sat in my chest like a square peg in a round hole; there was no way I could admit it to her when I couldn’t even admit it to myself.

Instead, I settled on the safety of work.

“You’ve helped my company with your ideas more than once.”

Her face softened. “Really?”

“Yes. Your suggestion to Domenic on the latest project shaved off almost a hundred thousand. I was impressed.”

“Wow. An actual compliment coming from the man who accused me of sleeping my way into a job.”

I shrugged, wincing over my harsh treatment of her at the office. “I may have judged too soon.”

She flipped to her side, matching my position, her breasts bouncing, dangerously close to falling out. But I didn’t know where to look, the alluring flesh taunting me with a peek, or her radiant smile and perfect dimples.

In the end, the smile won out, and I tried not to think about why too hard.

“Does this mean different tasks at work?”

“Maybe…”

“I’ll take it.”

“Your very smart, Verana. Your resume speaks for itself—as well as your actions. Your father was a fool to not utilize your talents.”

Her smile faded, and she swallowed again, barely choking out, “Thank you, Nicholas.”

“It’s just honesty. I won’t easily hand over the tasks because you’re my wife,” I said too harshly. She winced. I hated it and immediately backtracked. “But I have no doubt you’ll earn it.”

She studied me, emotions swirling in the depths of her eyes. It had me feeling like a swinging pendulum with her. I wanted to keep her at a distance but hated when she got too far, so I brought her back. But then she came back and looked at me like I’d given her the most precious gift, making that warmth come roaring back, and I struggled with the way it bled further and further through my body each time. So, I pushed her away again. On repeat.

I knew I was on borrowed time and knew at some point the swinging would stop; I just wasn’t sure where it would, with her close or far.

I wasn’t sure where I wanted it to stop.

But with her smile back in place and the soft heat fading less and less each time I shoved away, I had a feeling I knew where I wanted it to land.

I just wasn’t ready to admit that I may be falling for my wife.Twenty-NineVeraThe heel of my suede ankle boots caught on the edge of the cobblestone, and I stumbled, latching on to Nico’s arm. He looked back to find me giggling, enjoying the feel of his hard arm under my fingers.

“You okay?” he asked, smiling with me.

“Maybe I should have skipped the last glass of champagne.”

“Nah. It’s our honeymoon. How could you turn down a bottle from the chef?”

“You’re right. I made the right choice.”

He huffed a laugh and shook his head, not saying anything as I stepped close and kept my hand latched to his arm while we walked.

That had been our night.

After the day sunbathing, we got ready and had the most delicious dinner. But better than dinner had been the walls that slowly disappeared throughout the day. The best part was the laughing and subtle flirting. The best part was the ease that sprouted somewhere between Rome and Naples.

He’d even interrupted my shower again, and instead of a heated argument, I’d merely thrown my loofah at him and stormed off, smiling, kind of loving his taunting laugh behind me.

Nico’s laugh…It should be one of the wonders of the world. It rose from deep in his chest and poured from his full lips. The smile disarmed you, and then the gruff rumble of humor struck while your guard was down. It was sensual, deep—rough.

Just like the way he fucked me against the railing at the gala.

All through the night, women looked, desire, and want in their eyes, probably the same way it was in mine. They looked, but the silver wedding band shined brighter on his finger, letting them know he was taken.

Mine.

Possession flooded my body each time I caught a glint of it.

I clung tighter to him, and I wondered if this was what cavemen felt like. This desperate urge to claim him, to mark him as mine so everyone knew he was taken. I wanted to bare my teeth like an animal to ward off anyone who said otherwise.

I wanted him and blamed nothing but my need. No champagne, no living in the moment, no rash decisions. There was nothing to blame but his words weaving their way around the cracks in my wall and the emotions they planted there. They grew like a flower in a desert, rare, and unlike anything I’d ever felt before. The vines wove through my stubborn barrier, creating crevices where the emotions slipped through until it broke free and poured over me. It was all-consuming, washing away any stubbornness I still clung to.