Page 21 of Vows of Blood
At least Isabella is experienced in that department, or so the rumors have said. I don’t relish what this night might’ve looked like if I’d married her sister instead. There has never been any talk about her sex life, but not knowing is worse than this. In fact, I imagine Isabella might not even mind this part of the night, from what I’ve heard.
We pull into the parking garage and Isabella says, “At some point, I should head back to my apartment and get some things?—”
“That’s been taken care of,” I tell her. “Your things were moved to the penthouse while we were at the church.”
I feel her eyes on me, but she doesn’t say anything. I pull into my parking space and we get out and go to the elevators. In the elevator and on our way up, the glass doors reflect us under the harsh fluorescent lighting. She’s holding the hem of her dress in one arm, her eyes looking down and away. Her hair, which is far too short for my taste, is in spiral curls that hang right to the edge of her shoulders.
She has on too much makeup. The thought pops into my head as I mentally compare the way I’ve always seen her before. Her ivory skin has always had just a little bit of makeup covering it with deep, dark eyeliner to accent her sleepy azure eyes. She always had lipstick on her full lips, but usually, it was a softer color like pink. Right now, her skin looks mottled by a layer of foundation and blush and her eyes have been shadowed in at least two different colors.
The only thing I think looks good is her lipstick. It’s fire engine red and it suits her. I’m sure I got some on me when we kissed during the ceremony.
The doors open and we walk down the hall together to my door. Once we’re in the penthouse, I toss my keys in their place on the kitchen counter and lead her into the living room. “Living room,” I say blandly. Down the hall and to the left are my study and guest bathroom, and to the right is the bedroom.
She nods, her eye drawn to the glass wall on the other side of the room overlooking the city. The lights of the city skyscrapers glow against the orange and blue skyline in a picturesque setting. “Wow,” she says with a little laugh. “That’s some view.”
“It’s suitable,” I tell her. Then I take her hand. “Come on.”
I lead her to the bedroom. As I pull the shades, I say, “I’m going to give you some time to change into something more appropriate. Anya has taken the liberty of setting out something for you in the bathroom.” I turn to her, looking her over again. “While you’re in there, you might as well wash your face.”
She notices me looking at her hair and she says, “You got some problem with the way I look?”
“Honestly, yes. You’ve got on too much makeup and your hair is too short. We can’t do anything about your hair, but at least you can clean your face.”
She looks a little offended. “Fantastic. Guess I’ll go change, then.”
She turns and goes into the bathroom. I leave the bedroom and go make myself a drink in the kitchen.
After a few sips of bourbon, I kick myself for assuming that she will be willing to have sex with me. It’s not like she has an option, but I don’t even know if she’s attracted to me. She has to know the stakes, though. There can’t possibly be any arguments from her.
By the time I finish my drink, she’s stepped out of the bedroom. The nightgown that Anya picked out looks good on her. Peach colored silk with thin straps. If barely covers her round ass and thick thighs.
“This doesn’t exactly leave much to the imagination,” she says, “and I can’t find my robe, so I hope it’s all right that I sleep like this.”
“It’s fine,” I say. I walk over to her and take her hand again, leading her back to the bedroom. “You probably want to get some sleep. This has been a long day for both of us.”
“It certainly has.” She walks through the door and I close it behind her.
“Right.” I turn around to her. “So, we should get this over with quickly, then.”
She blinks, her shining blue eyes the picture of innocence. “Get what over with?”
It’s almost laughable. “We need to consummate the marriage, Isabella.”
I see her visibly stiffen. She clears her throat and says, “I don’t see why we need to do that. We don’t even know each other, really.”
“I don’t see the problem. You’ve had one-night stands before, yes? This will be no different.”
She scowls. “That’s not the point. Look, this is just a business arrangement. We don’t have to sleep together.”
I cross my arms. “The marriage contract isn’t complete until we do.”
She adjusts her stance, leaning from one foot to the next. “Yeah, but we don’t have to tell anyone that we didn’t do it. We could just?—”
“This has to happen, Isabella,” I tell her. “It’s not really up for debate. Our families?—”
“I know. This is for our families,” she says.
I get what she’s saying, and honestly, I don’t blame her. I’m not thrilled about this either. “If it’s ever called into question, the alliance between our families is done,” I tell her. “My father will swallow your father’s empire. He will have nothing.”
