Innocent in Her Enemy’s Bed

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THEMORNINGOFthe rehearsal dinner, they convened with their lawyers in Leander’s office tower where they signed the appropriate contracts including the one for their new home.

Ursula had found them something in Glyfada, a seven-bedroom contemporary villa with all the amenities, an established staff and gardens that created a shroud of privacy without walling them in. It was almost boxy in design and seemed made strictly from glass and polished marble, but it was bright and welcoming and the view of the infinity pool blended into the horizon so the property appeared to extend into the sea. The decorating would be finished while they were on their honeymoon and they would move in on their return.

Ilona was of two minds about that. She was excited for it, because it was such a lovely property, but she liked sharing her husband’s bed. Would they make love then part ways every night? The question was plaguing her, but she hadn’t found the courage to ask.

As they stood and shook hands all around, Leander asked Androu and Feodor to wait while he pulled Ilona into a small studio apartment adjacent to his office. Ilona was so distracted by the utilitarian space, she didn’t immediately take in what he said.

“I want to make this official right now.”

Ilona dragged her eyes off the wide bed. “Make what official?”

“Our marriage. All the paperwork is done, the license is good. There’s an officiant waiting to join us.”

“You want to get married right now?”

“You object?” His gaze narrowed keenly.

Her stomach somersaulted. He still didn’t trust her, even after all she’d told him about herself and invited him to make a baby with her.

“I wasn’t expecting this.” Obviously. She had a feeling that was his purpose in springing it on her, to test her. That hurt, but even more than that, “I’m not...wearing my gown,” she mumbled in a small voice, feeling silly for being so excited about wearing it. She rarely let herself truly shine, though. She had pulled out all the stops for tomorrow.

“You look lovely,” he stated, dismissing that detail.

She looked down at her bone-colored skirt suit and pale pink blouse, mostly so he wouldn’t read the depth of her hurt and disappointment. She looked as though she was attending a business meeting, which she was. That’s all their marriage was. A merger. She really was a silly fool for thinking it could be anything else.

“Tomorrow will go ahead as planned,” Leander assured her. “But in case it doesn’t...”

Midas. Always Midas.

Ilona forced a smile past the ache that had arrived in her throat. “Of course. Let’s close this deal.”

If he found her remark as cold as his own behavior, she didn’t see it. She led him back into his office.

Androu invited the officiant in and the ceremony commenced without ceremony, with only their two assistants in attendance.

For a moment, Ilona consoled herself that it was better this way. She had been worried all the pageantry of speaking her vows in front of a crowd would play on her nerves, but it was actually worse in this little office where the silence of their surprised witnesses was intensely meaningful. They watched her grow emotional as the weight of her words caused her voice to shake and her eyes to fill.

The words weren’t even particularly sentimental, just legal statements about the contract of marriage imbuing obligations and responsibilities that she must promise to uphold. Still, when Leander cupped her face and repeated them in his deep rumble, she had to bite her lips to keep them from quivering.

This was big. Profound. If she had had any lingering worries or fears about going through with this marriage, they no longer mattered because it was done. She was tied to this man who claimed he would never hurt her. She believed that, to a point. She was confident he wouldn’t attack her physically or deride her, but as she looked into his eyes and the skin on her heart grew paper thin, she knew he could destroy her emotionally.

Because she was more than susceptible to him. She was growing to care for him. Deeply. She wanted him to care for her in the same way, but she didn’t believe he was capable of it. Even if he was, he would refuse to let himself care too deeply because of who she was. Because he was too obsessed with Midas.

If you weren’t part of my attack on him, you would have been a distraction.

It was heartbreaking to realize all of that, but then he lowered his head and kissed her. His lips brushed across hers, tender and sweet enough to cause a colorful explosion behind her closed eyelids. For a few precious seconds, she was convinced they were soul mates.

Then he drew back and the moment was gone. There were more handshakes. Feodor gave her a misty hug and said something about how it was a relief to know that if anything went wrong tomorrow, at least the most important part had already happened.

It hadn’t, though, Ilona realized with a lurch of her heart. She caught Leander—her husband—looking at her with banked hunger and it struck her like a wrecking ball that her wedding night had arrived a day early.

Leander watched Ilona kick off her shoes as they stepped off the elevator into the penthouse. He tried to catch her eye to read her mood, but she wasn’t allowing it.

“I suppose I can use this time between now and dinner to pack for the honeymoon,” she said in a tone that was not nearly as casual as she was likely striving for. She had mentioned going into her office this afternoon, but Feodor had looked at her like she was out of her tree and assured her there was nothing so pressing it couldn’t wait.

Leander had sworn the pair to secrecy and brought her home, high on the triumph of being able to call her his wife. Strangely, his satisfaction went beyond vengeance. He was thrilled in deeply primitive, remarkably possessive ways. She was his.