Theirs to Corrupt (Titans Captivated #5)

Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Tessa

I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve just been granted a glimpse behind a very dangerous curtain.

Link’s touch is as reassuring as it is possessive. He and Pax have offered their protection, but also I’m now part of this world of shadows and secrets.

I take another sip of champagne, steeling myself for whatever comes next. One thing is certain: life with Link and Pax will never be boring.

“If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen,” Link says.

As we move away, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

“You did wonderfully.” Link strokes my spine, but I don’t relax. “Little dove?” he asks.

“Are you…?”

He considers me.

“I mean…”

I’m flustered, blushing, but he waits.

“Will you want to attend his club?”

“Absolutely.”

My legs don’t want to support me.

“We’ll do everything to ensure your comfort. But you will be with us on our next visit.”

His expression is implacable, his words flat, a proclamation that doesn’t allow for arguing.

I look to Pax, and he doesn’t contradict Link.

Why didn’t I know this before we were married? Before it was too late?

What seems like an hour later, Nora checks in with us to let us know it’s time to be seated for dinner. Since my feet have started to hurt and a smile seems to be frozen in place, I’m grateful.

“Have Jax make the announcement.”

Once everyone has found their chairs, the three of us enter the ballroom.

In addition to another two people, a judge is seated at our table, near me.

As he picks up his water glass, gemstones in his ring dance in the candlelight. The exact same ring Dorian was wearing.

Any doubt I had that the Titans were real vanishes. Whether Pax will admit the truth or not, evidence is hiding in plain sight.

Dinner is a ridiculous affair, multiple courses with wine pairings. Thankfully it passes in a blur.

In a way, being with these gazillionaires isn’t a lot different than being a cocktail waitress who’s hustling for tips…except here, no one grabs my ass.

Then I remember what happened right after the ceremony.

Well, no one except my husbands.

Realizing the judge is talking to me, I force my wayward thoughts back to the conversation.

Smile, I remind myself, just like I did at work. Be attentive, make people feel good.

Shouldn’t be that difficult.

Effortlessly we move to the next room for the reception.

Link must have rented out the entire floor of this tower.

Once we’re there, a DJ is already spinning tunes, and a few people are dancing.

“We have a few obligations,” he says, leaning close. “First dance. A toast from Pax, and one from me. Saying hello to late arrivals.”

I nod.

“After the cake is cut, we’re leaving. And you’ll be ours in all ways.”

His expression is so laden with meaning that I instantly become damp.

We spend half an hour mingling, and I notice Marge, Nat, and David standing at a high-top table, cocktails in front of them.

The DJ spins a ballad, and David leads Natalie onto the dance floor, leaving Marge by herself.

“Will you excuse me?” I ask.

Pax frowns.

“I want to talk with Marge. Alone.” Something I haven’t had a chance to do yet.

He looks to Link before nodding. “Five minutes.”

Pax turns away and speaks into his watch.

As I walk toward Marge, Mira and Torin—dressed impeccably so no one would guess they’re security—move to a nearby table.

I sigh. But since I’m finally going to have a few minutes alone with my friend, I decide to keep my mouth shut.

When I near her, she puts down her whiskey and gives me a big hug. “Miss you at the bar, sugar.”

Recently the Rusty Nail was my life. Yet at the same time, it seems like forever since I walked through the door for the last time.

“You look happy.”

Do I? “Because you’re here! How did you find out?” I’m embarrassed that I didn’t ask Link to invite her.

“Pax showed up with a ticket, hotel reservations, and transportation to and from the airport both ways.” She shrugs. “Man won’t take no for an answer.”

I look up and unerringly find my husbands. Pax is watching us.

“He’s assigned a security detail to the place.” She shrugs. “Not that I need it.”

“Which…” I lean toward her. “What happened that night? I was so scared something happened to you.”

“Took care of the bastard.”

“Took care of…?” She can’t mean what I think she does.

“No one threatens or hurts the people I love and gets away with it.”

I blink.

“Pax handled the cleanup.”

Oh God. I remember the story about her sawed-off shotgun. And I have no doubts. Marge means exactly what I was afraid of.

“That’s all you’re getting from me.” She shrugs. “If you want to hear more, ask Pax.”

I nod.

When the song ends, Natalie and David return, cutting off conversation, which is fine because Link and Pax join us.

“Sorry to sweep her away from you,” Link says. “Maybe we can get together when we’re all in Houston.”

After promising we’ll make arrangements later, Link moves me toward more new people, including Matteo Moretti. He’s accompanied by bodyguards, but he’s polite, though his dark eyes miss nothing.

The man is unsettling as hell.

I can’t imagine how it was possible to get this many high-profile people in the same room.

And every minute, more guests seem to be arriving.

“Ready for our first dance as a married trio?” Link finally asks.

The DJ asks for the floor to be cleared and announces that we’ll be out there alone for a while.

Link takes my hand and leads me to the middle, beneath a spotlight. Pax is off to one side, Marcella and her camera next to him.

The opening notes of “Something” by the Beatles begin to play.

He pulls me close, and beneath my ear is the reassuring pounding of his heart.

His body is warm and strong, and the song achingly romantic.

If only this was a wedding we both wanted.

Softly he croons the lyrics, only for me.

Surprised by the resonance of voice, I look up at him as we sway to the ballad.

Our guests, even the room fades away, and for a moment, it feels like we’re the only two people in the world.

“I chose this song on purpose.”

Halfway through the song, Link turns me over to Pax.

Link places a soft kiss on my forehead before stepping back.

My other husband pulls me close, one hand on the small of my back, the other holding mine. His touch is different from Link’s—equally firm, but with its own unique energy.

“You look radiant,” Pax murmurs as we move together. “We’re two very lucky men.”

Lighting begins to change, with the room becoming brighter and the spotlight fading as the DJ invites others to join us.

When the song winds down, Pax spins me gently, right into Link’s arms.

As the final note plays, the three of us have our hands entwined.

Both of my men kiss me gently.

In this moment, I’m happy, maybe happier than I recall being since my parents passed.

It can’t last, though. Life has taught me that joy is fleeting. For now, I shove aside my sudden feeling of doubt.

Another ballad follows. Then the DJ segues into “Twist and Shout.”

While we make our way to the edge of the dance floor, many others take our place. There are smiles and laughter all around the room, and some people appear deep in conversation.

“You know how to throw a party,” I tell Link, impressed and doubly glad that he handled all the preparations for the event.

“With more to come.”

“Surely not always this many people?” And on this scale.

“Not always,” he agrees.

Which means that some might be.

Link is a consummate host, ensuring that everyone feels welcome. And Pax excuses himself to go and talk to Hawkeye and Inamorata.

Time rushes in a blur before the DJ announces it’s time for the toast.

Once more, we’re in the spotlight.

Pax joins us, and Link helps me up onto the stage, no easy feat with the way the dress hugs my body.

There’s a small table near us with three glasses of champagne.

Servers make their way through the room, refilling glasses and offering flutes to people who don’t have them.

Wondering what the men will say and self-conscious at being in the spotlight once more, I ball my hands at my sides.

Noticing, Pax slides an arm around my shoulders.

I honestly didn’t know it was possible for anyone to notice such tiny details about me.

Totally comfortable, Link accepts the microphone from the DJ and once more thanks our guests for sharing our special day and promising that the open bar will remain available until one a.m.

“Not that we’ll still be here by then,” he adds, flashing a devilish smile that makes my tummy turn a somersault.

Catcalls and cheers greet his comment.

“Generally the best man proposes a toast,” Link continues. “As you’ve might have noticed, there’s not much about our wedding that’s been traditional.”

“Hear, hear!” someone calls out while others laugh.

When our guests have quieted, Link picks up a glass and looks at me and Pax. “Pax, you’ve been at my side?—”

The overhead lights suddenly flicker. The soft background music vanishes, replaced by an explosion of sound that rocks the atmosphere.

Then music that sounds like the opening of a Hollywood blockbuster shakes the room.

“Jesus,” Link says.

A booming voice echoes through the room.

“Stop this! Stop this immensely!”

Pax swears under his breath and checks his watch. “Bonds.”

“Goddamn it,” Link mutters, slamming down his drink.

Julien Bonds? My eyes widen.

The double doors burst open, and Julien Bonds strides in, followed by an entourage and a film crew.

I blink at the spectacle.

He’s wearing a suit, but his accessories are outrageous.

His bow tie is a garish yellow, not tied correctly, and it clashes horrifically with his neon orange sneakers.

Without slowing down, Julien marches across the room and leaps onto the stage.

When he lands, his shoes light up with silver wedding bells that race around the bottoms.

“This is an absolute travesty!” After saying hello to me and telling me I could have done much better in the marriage department, he yanks the microphone from Link’s hand.

“You’re absolutely right that a toast is performed by the most magnificent man. Clearly”—he pauses for dramatic effect—”that man is me.”

With stunned confusion, I look back and forth between Link and Pax.

Link’s eyes flash with annoyance.

Everyone around us is grinning, laughing, snapping pictures.

“Ladies, boys, and lovebirds.” He gestures dramatically toward us. “We are gathered here today to celebrate a union as rare as a dodo bird in a petting zoo.”

Oh my God. I can’t help but laugh.

“Link and Pax… Congratulations on finding someone who will endure your brilliance and bullshit, of which there’s many.” Then he looks at me. “Tessa, you now have a future filled with herding guppies.”

“Jesus,” Link says again.

Julien, wedding bells still racing around the bottom of his tennis shoes, snatches away Link’s champagne glass. Then he angles it toward each of us. “May the days be filled with happiness, and your nights make us jealous. Happily never after!”

He takes a long drink, hands back the flute, then jumps off the stage as everyone begins to applaud.

“Were you expecting that?” I ask Link.

“With Bonds, only the unexpected is expected.”

Off to one side, the Genius of the Known Universe holds court.

After Julien’s unexpected toast, the reception settles back into a more conventional rhythm.

Guests mingle, laughing and chatting, while the DJ plays a mix of upbeat songs and romantic ballads.

Even though I shouldn’t, I steal glances at the entrance, anticipating the arrival of the cake. Each time the doors open, my heart races a little.

Finally the hotel staff gathers near a side door.

On cue, the DJ lowers the music.

The breathtaking cake is wheeled in.

I’d only imagined what it might look like, and this is beyond my wildest dreams. Multiple tiers, beautiful flowers, and our initials monogrammed in what appears to be chocolate and covered with black, sparkly paint. The T is in the middle, and it’s flanked by an L and a P on either side, smaller, and all entwined with circles that resemble wedding bands.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the DJ calls out, “It’s time for the newlyweds to cut the cake!”

Link presses his hand against my back, his touch sending ripples of electricity through me. Leaning close, he smiles. “Only minutes now, Tessa. Then you’re ours…”