Total pages in book: 767
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Jax chuckled. “Smile, princess.”
She gave her mother a reassuring nod.
Jax stayed by her side the entire evening, and after her father gave his toast, Jax stood.
“I hope it’s okay if I say something.”
The crowd laughed. No one expected that Jaxon Mills would have resisted the siren’s call of an open microphone.
He faced her, as did everyone else in the room.
“In a man’s life, if he’s lucky, he meets a woman who completes his heart.”
Her eyes filled with tears and her mother patted her arm.
“He finally understands why no other relationship worked out, because there’s only one person for him.”
Willow reached for her champagne and took a drink to swallow the lump in her throat, but it refused to budge.
When the room fell silent, he finished. “You’re my one, Willow. The more I know you, what a good person you are, the more I love you. You’ve made me the happiest man on the planet.”
With that, he tossed the mic onto the table.
To prevent tears from escaping, she pressed her hands to her face. With purpose in each step, he strode toward her.
In front of everyone gathered to celebrate their union, Jax tugged her to her feet. Then, making her gasp with shock, he swept her off the floor and into his arms.
“You’ll have to excuse us,” he said to the crowd. “I’m taking my wife upstairs.”
“Jax!” She kicked her legs helplessly. “You can’t do this.”
“Darling wife, I’ve waited long enough. If you want me to keep my hands off you until we’re alone, you might want to stay still.” His eyes were dark with promise.
She stopped squirming.
“Excellent choice.” He summoned the elevator. “I meant what I said back there, Willow. I love you.”
She exhaled. Part of her thought it was too soon. But the truth was, she felt it, too. And she knew that their commitment to each other would deepen their emotional connection. “I love you, too, Jax.”
His smile melted her heart.
“Let’s get our future started.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The guests cheered as Jax carried her into the waiting compartment and took her to their suite to claim her as his wife.
◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊
Vienna Betrayal
By
Lila Dubois
Chapter 1
She watched the quiet man from the shadows of her hooded, enveloping cloak.
She stood out from the crowd, as she intended, her body concealed while around her, flesh was on display. Some bodies were already pink or red as a result of sadistic, masochistic, and taboo recreation.
The quiet man hadn’t partaken. She knew because she’d been watching him watch everyone else.
He was the reason she was here. The reason she was willing to play the submissive once more.
And now he was watching her. She’d known the exact moment his gaze landed on her. Felt it the way prey felt the presence of a predator staring at them from the shadows.
Hidden under the cloak, Magdelena Moreau’s fingers curled into her palms when he rose from his seat. If she’d done this right he was going to approach her, ask her to submit to him for the night.
As much as she longed to make the first move, she couldn’t. Not here. He had to come to her. It was the only way.
The quiet man started towards her.
Her fingers relaxed as satisfaction and relief, with a thin note of panic interwoven, slid through her.
He walked with purpose and confidence, not the lazy grace she’d expected from the quiet man.
Two meters away.
There’s still time to run.
She wouldn’t run. He was a piece in the game. A knight, she decided. The black knight. She needed to take the knight, even if it meant sacrificing a pawn.
One meter.
She had to play multiple roles in this particular game…including that of the pawn the black knight would take.
When he stopped, he was close enough that she could smell him—liquor, a smoky cologne, expensive linen, and below it all the warm smell of skin.
She didn’t look down, but she didn’t look up either. He was taller than her, so she was looking at his throat, the inverted triangle of flesh exposed by the undone top buttons of his dress shirt. The shirt was crisp white in contrast with the black bowtie draped around his neck. There were no creases in the bowtie—it hadn’t been tied. No, he’d looped it around his neck and tucked it under the collar of his shirt to cultivate an end of the evening, relaxed look.
Time stretched, disproportionate to reality. She bit the tip of her tongue to keep herself quiet.
“May I?” His voice was low, but precise. It was the first time she’d heard him speak in person, and it fit with the moniker she’d picked for him—the quiet man.
“Please do.”
He cocked his head to the side in response to her reply. Surprise. He’d spoken German, and she’d replied in the same language, but despite her best efforts, her American accent was present no matter what language she spoke.