Scarred Crown (Bellerive Royals Book 2) by W Million

Author:W Million [Million, W]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: needs an amazon review
Publisher: Stomill Books
Published: 2022-05-18T04:00:00+00:00

Nicholas

Jules is my wife. The thought plays on repeat through my stunned brain while we collect our baggage, meet our ground security, and climb into the backseat of the black Rolls Royce.

Even flipping through the photos on the plane didn’t bring the night back in enough detail to make what’s happened real. We got matching tattoos.

If that doesn’t spell commitment, I don’t know what does.

And yet…

The last thing I remember is asking her to marry me. My clearest memory is staring into those blue-gray eyes and hoping she’d understand how serious I was.

What I can’t remember is whether I had to convince her, or she said yes willingly. My level of drunkenness suggests one of two things.

The first could be that we were so happy and so in tune with our decision that I didn’t need to worry about my alcohol consumption. Everything was great—who cared how much I drank?

The other option is that I drank to forget how hard I had to talk her into it, how reluctant she was to marry me, how I might have even resorted to a former-best-friend guilt trip.

Not one of those is beneath drunk me.

Drunk me is a classically bad decision maker. Epically poor.

Her reaction to discovering we got married last night is not easing my anxiety over which of those two scenarios is most likely. God knows I would have done anything to get her to say yes.

On top of that, I’m fairly confident we didn’t consummate our marriage, which also makes me doubtful she was fully on board. Who gets married and doesn’t have sex to seal the deal? She’ll marry me, but she won’t sleep with me? Makes zero sense.

Maybe I stopped things if she was too drunk, especially if I was that drunk too? I’ve wanted her for so long, I can’t imagine the brakes were mine. But I would never want her to regret being with me. I’d want her to remember, and I would definitely want my memory clear or clearer too.

Memory loss sucks.

“I feel like we’ve slipped into an alternate dimension,” Jules says without looking at me. She fishes her phone out of her purse.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her tense as she slides her phone from airport mode into eating up data. Immediately, her phone pings with a flood of notifications.

“Oh, no,” she mutters.

“You should really turn off those push notifications.” I gaze out the window and don’t touch my phone. “Bad for your mental health to be connected so much.”

“Oh,” Jules says, her voice tight. “It’s not the social media notifications that are the problem. Although someone leaked photos of us getting married. What happens in Vegas did not, in fact, stay in Vegas. So I guess we don’t need to break that news to anyone.” Her fingers fly across her keyboard in response to something or someone. “My ‘oh, no’ was related to your brother’s ranting text messages.”

My heart kicks. That gets my attention. I’m fine with the whole

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