Nick keeps a firm hold of my hand as we make our way to the red carpet.
People shout our names as we take our spot, lean into one another, and finally pose for the cameras.
The flashes are disorienting, and if it weren’t for the string of inappropriate jokes Nick whispers in my ear, I don’t think I could keep the smile on my face.
“Luisa Stonehaven, over here to your right!” a photographer shouts.
“Hmm, you hear that, Luisa Stonehaven?” Nick says with more satisfaction than any man in a fake marriage should possess.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the way that sounded.
And although I know this marriage isn’t real, it is for all the women who have followed my journey and look up to me. It might seem silly to think, much less shout, but I want my name to really fit me. To fit the woman I’ve created and hope to continue to become. So I let the world know. “Actually, it’s Luisa Álvarez-Stonehaven.” Nick looks down with an amused look on his face, and I shrug. “I’m hyphenating.”
He nearly blinds me with his smile before he turns and faces the flashing lights. “You heard the lady. She’s an Álvarez-Stonehaven, so address her as such.” He teases the crowd before he whispers in my ear. “It suits you quite nicely, if I do say so myself.”
I pinch him discreetly under his suit jacket, and he does the same to my hip.
My smile is no longer forced.
“Now?” he questions quietly.
My stomach clenches. We planned this. A kiss on the red carpet. The official seal of our deal for the masses.
I was fine with it in theory, but now, having him so close to my lips, I fear this kiss won’t feel very fake for me.
“Mm-hmm,” I hum, keeping my smile in place for the cameras.
Nick’s eyes sweep my face. “You sure? We don’t have to if you’re—”
My hand slides up his chest, trailing up until my fingers reach his neck. “Oh, c’mon. Don’t tell me the devil is afraid of a little—”
His lips meet mine in a bruising kiss. The noise around us reaches a new high, but I can’t make out a single sound over the pounding in my chest and the moan on his lips.
I don’t know where I find the mental capacity to pull back and playfully tap him on the chest for getting carried away in public. He catches on quickly and fakes wiping the edges of his mouth like the cat that got the cream.
“Good save, wife. We might have landed on the front pages tomorrow for a completely different reason if you hadn’t kept me on a tight leash,” he says, low enough for only me to hear.
I ignore him and wave at the cameras one more time before I give Nick’s hand three quick squeezes. He recognizes our signal immediately and offers one last smile before we walk off the carpet and into a much quieter reception area.
I release a deep breath. “Step one, complete. Now all that’s left to do is schmooze and avoid truffles at all costs.” I accept a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and turn back to Nick.
The heat in his eyes is burning up every inch of my skin as he slowly takes his fill.
“Lucifer,” I warn lightly.
“No, you see, I think you’ve got this all wrong. Because you, in that dress, with that… that fucking slit that goes so high and would make it so easy to slip my hand in and—” He stops abruptly and releases a frustrated groan. “God dammit, woman. Why is every inch of your body meant to test and tease me?”
I take a small sip of the delicious bubbly as I move in closer to him.
When I rest my free hand on his chest, he grits his teeth. “Rules. Give them to me now. What am I allowed to do tonight? Can I kiss you?”
“Yes, when we—”
“Thank fuck.” His hands smoothly slide along my hips until he’s pinned my body against his and his mouth is firmly on mine. He takes full advantage of my surprised gasp and slips his tongue past my lips, demanding more.
I moan softly and join his fight for dominance.
Fuck, my husband can kiss.
