Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 78827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“Dearly beloved, we’re gathered here today to celebrate the holy union of Nikolas Peter Ares Stathoulis and Theresa Maria Drakatos.”
There’s a buzzing in my ears. I see the priest’s lips move but can’t hear a word he’s saying.
He keeps talking and talking as the last seconds of my freedom slip through my fingers.
Like a puppet, I’m turned to face my groom, his finger nudges beneath my chin, forcing my head up, but he’s a blur through the tears.
Then I blink, and my sight focuses on the man in front of me.
Not Christos.
OH. MY. GOD.
Nikolas.
A hard shudder rakes through my body. My breathing stalls, my heartbeat coming to a dead stop.
I stare at Nikolas, not sure what’s going on, then the priest says, “Nikolas, repeat after me.”
I watch in absolute stunned stupor as Nikolas’ lips part. “I, Nikolas Peter Ares Stathoulis, take thee, Theresa Maria Drakatos, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward…”
Holy shit.
I can’t process this. Is it better or worse?
What do I do?
Breathe, Tess. You need to breathe.
“…for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”
“Theresa, repeat after me,” the priest instructs.
No. Wait.
I’m still staring at Nikolas as if he’s a ghost. What the ever-loving hell is happening? What happened to Christos?
I should slap Nikolas and run as fast as I can, but my satin-wrapped heels stay glued to the carpet.
Why didn’t anyone tell me? Why didn’t Mom say anything?
What the hell is going on here?
As if I’m under some evil spell, my lips part, and I recite the words.
The corner of Nikolas’ mouth lifts in a triumphant smirk when I end with, “Till death do us part.”
“Nikolas, do you take Theresa Maria Drakatos as your wife?”
There’s zero hesitation, and a shit ton of arrogance as Nikolas says, “I do.”
Finally, anger burns through me, drying the tears right off my cheeks.
I’m going to make your life a living hell, Nikolas. I promise you this. I will repay you for everything you’ve done to me.
“Theresa, do you take Nikolas Peter Ares Stathoulis as your husband?”
Until death do us part, and God help me, it will be his death.
“I do.”
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Nikolas takes a step forward, his hands find my shoulders, and as he lowers his head, I whisper, “You better sleep with one eye open.”
He lets out a chuckle, then his mouth is hot and hard on mine. Not caring that we’re in church or about the guests, his arm wraps around my lower back, and I’m tugged hard against his solid body. His tongue invades my mouth, and instantly my hatred for the man wars with the physical attraction I thought I was done with.
I’m kissed thoroughly and possessively before Nikolas frees my mouth. When we turn to the guests, and I see the cathedral is packed, threatening to burst at the seams, it hits.
Like a ten-ton hammer.
I just married Nikolas.
The asshole’s hand grips mine tightly, his fingers weave with mine, and I’m pulled to where we have to sign the register while the guests file out of the church.
Mom and Peter are signing as witnesses, and when Mom won’t meet my eyes, I know she knew I was marrying Nikolas and not Christos.
Did Nikolas threaten her with death to not tell me?
After we’re done signing the register, Mom pulls me into a hug. “Give it a fair chance, agápi mou.”
“Why didn’t you warn me?” I ask, my voice tight from the anger, disappointment, and loss because, after today, I’ll never trust my mother again.
“Nikolas’ word is the law. I didn’t have a choice.”
Crap! You had a choice. You just didn’t choose me.
There’s a crack right down the middle of my heart, and I swear it’s so loud in my ears I expect to feel the ground quake beneath my feet.
Peter takes Mom’s hand, and they walk to the exit.
“Time for the reception,” Nikolas says, his hand wrapping around mine again.
This time I yank away, and turning a scalding glare on him, I snap, “Don’t touch me.”
The corner of his mouth lifts, and just like earlier, it’s filled with triumph and arrogance. “Or what? You’re my wife, Theresa. There’s not a single person on this planet that can save you from me.”
“There is,” I hiss. I start to feel feverish from all the anger brimming like a volcano inside me. “Me.”
He lets out a bark of amused laughter. “Can’t wait to see you try.”
When he reaches for my hand again, I yank away and step backward and out of his reach. “Is this funny to you?”
“Not in the least.” He takes a threatening step forward.
“Why did you marry me?” I demand. “Why the whole show with Christos?”
“You were going to marry him.” His mouth curves down as if the mere thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. “But then I changed my mind.”