Page 132 of Beautifully Reckless
“He doesn’t love me,” I blurt, but they each hook an arm through mine, leading me back towards Ringo, who’s deep in conversation with JD.
“Ifthat’snot love, then I’d hate to see him when heisin love.” Millie smirks, curling her lips as Alana nods in agreement.
“I don’t think I can handle that.”
I open my mouth to protest again, but before I can spit out a word, Millie casually kicks the back of Ringo’s boot, and he whirls around, rage contorting his expression, until he sees me.
Then, like magic, it falls away as if it were never there.
“What are you two doing with my wife?”
“Looking after her, which is somethingyoushould be doing, since she’s your wife,” Millie deadpans.
“All the drama made her nervous, so now you need to fix that,” Lani explains as they both release my arms and nudge me into him.
Without hesitation, Ringo slips his arm around my waist, tugging me into his side.
“You okay, Angel?”
“She’ll be better once you have your first dance,” Alana explains and Ringo’s brows shoot high.
I bet he wasn’t expecting his sister to say that.
Biting down on my lip, I only just manage to stop myself from laughing as Ringo asks his next question.
“Why will dancing with me make her feel better?”
“Besides the fact it’ll be hilarious watching you try to dance, big brother,” Millie teases before Alana finishes her thought.
“Sheneedsto smell you.”
Heat explodes across my cheeks, my gaze dropping to the floor the moment Ringo’s gaze snaps to mine.
He doesn’t say anything. Just stares.
I can’t bear to look up at him as his sisters giggle.
Before I realise what’s happening, I’m swept up in his arms, a squeak flying from my lips as he cradles me to his chest.
“Take a whiff, Angel. I’m all yours.”
Alana and Millie burst into laughter, and Ringo’s club brothers nearby start cheering before Ringo calls out to JD.
“JD, be the DJ, will ya? It’s time for me to have my first dance with my wife.”
Hoots and hollers erupt around us as Ringo carries me to the centre of the room, where only last night there were tables and chairs filling the space. The same table he laid me out on and… instantly my cheeks bloom at the memory.
“Are we really doing this?” I whisper, trying and failing to bite back a smile, and he looks down at me, a smirk kicking up his lips.
“I married you, so yeah, we’re fucking doing this.”
My heart flips in my chest at the fire in his eyes.
Is he actually excited about this?
The dance? The wedding?
Both, maybe?
