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“Nicky…” It takes me a minute to collect my thoughts, my stomach still rolling. “Please tell me this isn’t your initial on my finger.”
“Of course it’s my initial. It’s your wedding band.”
“What do you mean?” I shriek, the resulting echo bouncing off the tile around us. “You said rings weren’t needed!”
“Rings are not needed at the moment considering you will be forced to wear the one that dipshit gave you until after the wedding. However, you’re out of your mind if you thought I wasn’t gonna mark you as mine.”
“Mark me?! Nick, what the hell are you talking about? When did you even have the opportunity to pull this off?”
“Me?” He arches a brow, his arms coming to cross over his chest as he leans against the doorframe. “You must really not remember. We were walking down the sidewalk after leaving that little tequila bar and passed a tattoo shop. I asked if you wanted matching bands, you opted for initials instead. I think it’s a nice touch.”
The tequila bar in question vaguely dances in the recesses of my mind, albeit hazily. However, everything after that is pretty much a wash. How the fuck did anyone consent to tattoo me given the state of inebriation I was undoubtedly in last night?! Another quick glance at Nicky answers my own question. Rich and gorgeous—makes for a lethal combination where the word No doesn’t exist. Got it.
“Hold up.” My mind snags on a particular word. “What do you mean matching?”
Nicky smirks, holding up his left hand to reveal a small black D inked at the base of his ring finger.
“Oh my God.” I rush forward, pulling his hand to my face to confirm his is just as real as mine. “You jackass, why would you do this?”
“I think the answer’s pretty obvious.”
“Well, would you mind explaining it for us mere simpletons?” I scoff, tossing his hand aside as I begin pacing the small area in front of where he stands.
“Come on, Daph. Were you sick the day they taught this rule in kindergarten?”
“What rule?!” My hands fly out from my sides in an obvious show of frustration.
Nicky shoves off the frame, his arm swiftly encircling my waist as he spins us, pinning me between the wall and the hard planes of his chest. He reaches down, seizing hold of my hand and bringing my knuckles to his face, where he plants a soft kiss against my freshly inked skin.
“Label your property.”
CHAPTER 42
NOW
NICKY
Rico parks our SUV at the far corner of the lot where we’re able to avoid detection as we watch the attendees of tonight’s festivities filter into the venue.
Tonight is Daph and Lucian’s rehearsal dinner, though Belinda’s taken it upon herself to extend invitations far beyond those in the wedding party. She’s even invited my parents. That woman loves an excuse to flaunt her money.
My invitation must’ve gotten lost in the mail.
Woman’s gonna shit a brick when she finds out I’m her new son-in-law.
Daph’s inside. I saw her walk in about thirty minutes ago when she arrived with Lucian. Just the thought of her sharing a space with him as he parades around like the doting husband-to-be makes me want to lodge a bullet in his brain. It’s the first time she’s had to deal with him since returning from the Cape.
After Caleb’s cover got blown, Luc took the initiative to come clean to Daph. By the time I returned her phone after our wedding, she’d had close to a hundred missed calls and texts from him.
When she finally did call him back, he seized the opportunity to spin a tale painting himself as the victim, explaining how he’d been blackmailed by the Bratva due to his father’s business dealings with me and Maverick. He admitted their relationship may have begun under false pretenses, but said he’d fallen in love with her and begged her not to leave.
She told him she needed time to think and asked him to respect her space while she did so. It bought us the extra days leading up to tonight, so I could keep her with me. She returned to the apartment this morning, informing Luc she’d decided to move forward with the wedding. It was hard enough to let her go today; there was no way I would’ve allowed her to spend the last week playing house with him.
That being said, she hasn’t been cozying up to the idea of life as Mrs. Conners, either. Daph’s pissed at me, to say the least. That stunt with the tattoo sure as hell didn’t earn me any brownie points. It doesn’t help she hasn’t had my sister to talk through all this with. Jonsie’s been blowing up Daph’s phone for a couple weeks trying to touch base. Even more so now that Mav beat that bogus murder charge and she doesn’t have to spend her days investing effort into keeping him out of prison.
She and Mav have also both forgiven me for the baby—a kindness for which I am abundantly thankful.
When I returned Daph’s phone, I was certain J would be her first call. However, as the days passed and J’s calls continued to go unanswered, I came to realize the truth—Daph doesn’t want to lie to my sister. So, until she can tell her the truth about us, she’s trying to avoid her entirely.
