KEIFER POV
She tried on at least four more dresses after that.
Every single time the dressing room curtains pulled back, she would step onto the pedestal, turn around, and look at me with that guarded expression.
“How does this one look?”
And every single time, I told her the absolute truth.
I told her she looked stunning, that the lace suited her, that the silhouette was gorgeous, and that I loved every single detail on her.
Yet without fail, the moment the words left my mouth, her nose would scrinkle up, she would find some microscopic flaw in the hem or the sleeves, and she would declare that she hated it.
I leaned back against the sofa cushions and let out a heavy sigh, glancing down at the watch on my wrist.
It was already six in the evening.
We had been inside this boutique for nearly four hours, and my patience was running on fumes while my stubborn future wife seemed to take immense pleasure in rejecting everything I approved of.
That was when the curtain slid open one more time.
Jay stepped out, and my breath caught straight in my throat.
This one was different.
It was an off-white silk crepe gown with delicate off-the-shoulder draping that highlighted her collarbones, hugging every curve of her body with effortless precision before flowing into a clean, minimalist sweep on the floor.
It was simple, modern, and radiated pure, timeless grace.
It was so completely her that for a second, my heart skipped a frantic beat.
She stood on the platform, smoothing the silk over her hips, looking over at me through her long lashes.
“What about this one?” she asked, tilting her head.
I looked at her for a long, quiet second, catching on to the exact game she had been playing with me all afternoon.
If I praised it, she would throw it in the reject pile within ten seconds.
I forced my expression into a calm, unimpressed mask, crossed my legs, and leaned back into the sofa with a faint shrug.
“Honestly? I don’t really like it,” I lied through my teeth.
Jay’s eyes immediately lit up with stubborn victory, a bright, smug smile spreading across her lips as she looked at herself in the three-way mirror.
“Well, too bad, Watson,” she declared proudly, fluffing the hem with satisfaction.
“Because I absolutely love it. We are taking this one.”
She turned on her heel with a triumphant grin and disappeared behind the heavy satin curtains to change back into her regular clothes.
I sat back down on the plush sofa, checking my watch again.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
Growing impatient with how long she was taking, I stood up and took two long strides toward the fitting suite.
Before I could even raise a hand to tap on the divider, a loud, muffled curse came from the other side.
“Fuck!”
“What happened in there?” I asked, stopping right outside the drapery.
The fabric was yanked back, and Jay stepped halfway out, still wearing the off-white silk bridal gown.
Her cheeks were flushed pink, a few loose strands of dark hair stuck to her sweaty forehead, and her face held this ridiculous, pouty expression that was equal parts deeply irritated and miserably defeated.
The sight of the fierce, untouchable Mariano heiress looking so utterly helpless over a piece of clothing broke through all my composure.
A sudden laugh burst out of my chest.
“Asshole, don’t laugh at me!” she yelled, glaring at me like she wanted to stab me with a heel.
I held up both hands in surrender, biting back my grin and nodding.
“All right, all right. Why aren’t you changed yet?”
She let out a massive, dramatic huff, blowing the stray hair out of her eyes.
“This stupid, expensive dress won’t unzip,” she grumbled, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.
“The track is stuck right in the middle, and every time I pull it, I feel like I’m going to rip the entire silk seam apart.”
“Let me help you then,” I offered, taking a step toward her.
She rolled her eyes with pure reluctance, but she stepped back and let me enter the spacious, mirror-lined fitting room.
I reached behind me and pulled the heavy curtain completely shut, sealing out the empty boutique.
Our reflections stared back at us in the triple floor-to-ceiling mirrors.
I stood directly behind her, looking down at the bare curve of her back where the unfastened silk drapes ended.
I reached out, my fingers lightly brushing the nape of her neck as I gathered her thick, soft hair and moved it gently over to the front of her right shoulder.
Her breath hitched sharply in her throat, her shoulders stiffening under my fingertips.
“Relax, Jay. I won’t bite,” I murmured against the back of her neck, my fingers finding the tiny silver zipper pull stuck along the curve of her spine.
“Trust me, you don’t have the guts to bite me,” she huffed, lifting her chin stubbornly and meeting my gaze in the glass.
The amusement in my chest vanished in a fraction of a second.
My jaw locked, the heat in my veins flaring up with a sudden, dark intensity.
This woman really knew how to push every single dangerous button I had, dancing on the edge of the blade without an ounce of caution.
“What? I was just stating facts. Can’t take a little reality check, Watson?” she asked, her voice steady and teasing, staring straight into my dark eyes through the mirror without a single trace of fear.
A slow, wicked smirk spread across my lips.
I leaned down, resting my temple lightly against the curve of her neck, my warm breath fanning across her collarbone.
“Oh, baby,” I whispered, my voice dropping into that rough, smoky tone that made her pulse flutter visibly in her throat.
“You will see exactly who has the guts and who doesn’t on our wedding night.”
Without giving her a chance to fire back another witty remark, I pressed my hot, open lips firmly against the soft curve of her bare shoulder.
I slid the stuck zipper down along the track with one smooth motion, freeing the fabric.
Her hands flew up instantly, catching the bodice of the gown against her chest before the silk could slide down any further.
She spun around on the carpet, clutching the ivory dress to her front, her eyes practically throwing sparks as she glared up at me.
“Asshole! Motherfucker! Son of a bitch!” she started, firing off every foul word in her vocabulary at rapid speed.
Before the next curse could leave her lips, I stepped into her space, hooked my free arm around her waist, and pinned her firmly against the cool glass of the mirror behind her.
“You know it won’t even take me sixty seconds to completely undress you right here, Jay,” I warned, my voice low, dangerous, and thick with a promise that made her breath hitch.
“So it is definitely in your best interest to stop cussing at me.”
“Fuck you,” she hissed right back, completely refusing to back down, her chin tilted high while our chests pressed flat against each other with barely a millimeter of air between us.
“You need a punishment,” I told her, my eyes dropping to her mouth.
“Oh, really? And what are you going to do about it, Watson?” she mocked, her lips parting in that infuriating, arrogant grin.
“Take away my cell phone? No, wait, maybe you’ll take away my—”
I didn’t let her finish.
My mouth crashed down over hers in a fraction of a second, cutting off her words and swallowing every sharp, sarcastic retort whole.
It had been far too long since I had her like this.
Sure, we had kissed in the pouring rain three nights ago, but before that desperate, confusing night, it had been nearly ten agonizing years of distance, blood, and silence.
I had sworn to myself that I would be patient, that I would hold back and give her all the time she needed to adjust.
Yet she kept testing me, pushing every boundary with that pretty, stubborn mouth of hers until my self-control completely shattered.
I needed to remind her, right here and right now, who was in control.
Her eyelids fluttered shut instantly.
Her small hands, which had been clutching the front of her gown, loosened their death grip on the fabric, her lips parting softly to meet mine with the same electric, reckless hunger she had always carried for me.
She kissed me back, just like she always did when the world disappeared, completely giving in to the heat consuming us both.
And I knew her so damn well that I could already count the seconds down in my head.
In about twenty seconds, her stubborn brain was going to kick back online, she would realize she had surrendered to me again, and she would shove my chest with all her might before going right back to screaming curses at the top of her lungs.
Until that timer ran out, I kept her locked tight against the glass, deepening the kiss and taking every single breath she had to offer.
I pulled back just as the timer in my head hit eighteen, breaking the kiss right before her small hands could shove against my chest.
She stood there pinned between me and the glass, her lips swollen, pink, and parted as she dragged in ragged breaths of air.
“I would take away your virginity, Jay,” I said, finishing the punishment she had mocked me about seconds earlier, my voice rough and dark in the enclosed room.
Her breath hitched, and for a split second, her eyes froze in sheer shock.
Then, that infuriating, stubborn defiance of hers crawled right back to the surface.
She tilted her chin up, her gaze hardening into a reckless, teasing glare as a wicked smirk curled onto her lips.
“Oh, really?” she shot back smoothly, raising an eyebrow at me.
“And how exactly do you know that I’m still a virgin, Watson? For all you know, I could have fucked some guy years ago while you were busy playing mafia king.”
A slow, chilling smirk spread across my face as I stepped right back into her space, crowding her until her shoulders pressed flat against the mirror once again.
My voice came out dangerously low, vibrating with absolute, unshakeable certainty right against her ear.
“Because nobody touches what is mine, Jay,” I whispered, my knuckles gently tracing the curve of her jaw down to her racing pulse.
“I know every step you’ve taken, every place you’ve been, and every man who has ever dared to look at you. If another man had laid a single finger on you like that, he wouldn’t be breathing right now, and you know it.”