Bound | H.S.

Chapter 8

☆☆☆

Harry and I walked down the aisle past the standing and clapping guests, and left the pavilion. Outside, dozens of waiters were waiting with glasses of Champagne and small plates with Canapées. It was now our turn to accept the blessings and congratulations of every guest before we could move on to the tables and sit down for dinner.

Harry took two glasses of Champagne and handed one to me. Then he grabbed my hand again and it didn't appear as if he had any attention to let go any time soon.

He bent down, lips brushing my ear and whispered. "Smile. You are the happy bride, remember?"

I stiffened, but I forced my brightest smile onto my face as the first guests piled out of the pavilion and lined up to talk to us.

My legs began to hurt as we'd made it through half of our guests. The words directed at us were always the same. Praise for me on my beauty and congrats to Harry for having such a beautiful wife—as if that was an achievement—always followed by not so hidden hints about the wedding night. I wasn't sure if my face remained as bright through all of them.

Harry kept glancing at me as if to make sure I kept up the charade.

Bibiana and her husband were next. He was small, fat and bald. When he kissed my hand, I had to stop myself from shuddering. After a few mandatory words of congrats, Bibiana gripped my arms and pulled me toward her body to whisper into my ear. "Make him be good to you. Make him love you if you can. It's the only way to get through this."

She let go of me and her husband wrapped his arm around her waist, meaty hand on her hip, then they were gone.

"What did she say?" Harry asked.

"Nothing." I said quickly, glad for the next well-wishers that prevented Harry from asking more questions.

I nodded and smiled, but my mind whirred around what Bibiana had said. I wasn't sure if anyone could make Harry do anything he didn't want to do. Could I make him want to be good to me? Could I make him want to love me? Was he even capable of such an emotion?

I risked a glance up at him as he talked to a soldier of the New York mob. He was smiling.

Feeling my eyes on him, he turned and for a moment our gazes locked. There was darkness and a burning possessiveness in his eyes that sent a shiver of fear down my back. I doubted there was a flicker of gentleness or love in his black heart.

"Congrats, Harry!" A high female voice said.

Harry and I turned toward it and something in his demeanor shifted ever so slightly.

"Grace." Harry said with a nod.

My eyes froze on the woman, even though her father—Senator Parker—had started talking to me.

She was beautiful in an artificial way with a too narrow nose, full lips, and a cleavage that made my moderate chest look like child's play. I didn't think any of it was natural. Or maybe my jealousy was talking. I dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come.

With a look in my direction, she leaned up and said something to Harry. His face remained a passive mask.

Finally, she turned to me and actually pulled me into a hug. I had to force myself not to stiffen. "I should warn you. Harry's a beast in the bedroom and hung like one too. It'll hurt when he takes you and he won't care. He doesn't care about you or your silly emotions. He will fuck you like an animal. He will fuck you bloody." She murmured, then she stepped back and followed after her parents.