Wild Billionaire Romance - Chapter 42: Chapter 42

DESTINY
“This ring is ridiculous,” I said, staring at the enormous blue sapphire on my left hand.
“I thought you liked it?” Marat asked, brows furrowed as he leaned over the table to take my hand.
“I did. I do like it,” I assured him.
The princess cut cornflower sapphire in its platinum setting was huge. Just over four carats and surrounded by diamonds on either side. Marat picked it out, and afterwards, he told me it was because it reminded him of my eyes.
Tremble. The man makes me tremble.
“Blue suits you,” he repeated, looking from my hand to my dress, then back at me.
“Hmm, lucky it fits,” I replied.
“Not luck. Destiny. Just like your name. Just like finding you was my destiny.”
I felt my face flame and bit my lower lip. We’d skated over the whole part where I changed my name to Destiny during our conversations the night before. But I hadn’t told him all of it. Not yet.
We were sitting at one of the discreet booths reserved for VIPs in one of the hotel’s premier restaurants. I hadn’t paid much attention when Marat led me inside, dazzled as I was to simply be with him.
Imagine me having the attention of a man who was tempting as the Devil himself, only better looking and infinitely more seductive. It was like being on one of those shows where they pluck ordinary people and drop them into extraordinary circumstances.
After spending an hour in the jewelry store, he’d insisted on another stop at a boutique for an evening gown. I was stunned speechless by the first price tag I saw, and noticing, Marat made sure to keep me from seeing the rest.
I’d almost forgotten about the award ceremony, which was apparently why he was in Vegas. I supposed I should be grateful to whoever was giving his company the award.
In reality, I was nervous as fuck. But—and this was the really bizarre part—I trusted him. He was a stranger. Out of my league in every way. But I trusted him to take care of me, and he did.
Something about the cool, calm manner in which he operated put me at ease. He didn’t bark commands, he simply told the people working at whatever restaurant or shop we entered what he wanted, and they fell over themselves trying to get it for him.
Men and women alike. It didn’t matter. When Marat spoke, everyone listened. It was like they couldn’t help themselves. He held the masses in his thrall, and I wondered if I wasn’t just another mindless minion.
I hoped not. I mean, I really hoped I meant something else to him. And I wasn’t just another willing subject.
Marat lived in a completely different world than most people. I still didn’t know why he chose me to go back to his room last night. And I sure as fuck did not know why he’d gone through all the trouble of tricking me into this marriage thing.
Maybe it was time I asked.
“Here you are,” our server interrupted the second I went to open my mouth, appearing out of nowhere with beautifully plated dishes.
Aside from the glitz and glamour of Vegas, the one thing I loved about this place was the food. It was just out of this world good. And there was so much of it.
“Hungry?” Marat asked, a grin tilting the corner of his lips.
“Yes, actually,” I said, not shying away from it.
I was a woman with a healthy appetite and whether or not I was married now, that was one thing that would never change. I liked food. Obviously.
“Good,” he said, and I looked up at the heat I’d picked up in his tone.
I dropped my gaze, taking in the several small plates the server brought. I recognized some dishes.
Scallops. Foie gras. Tuna tartare. Burrata. Golden beets drizzled with a wine reduction. A charcuterie board.
My mouth watered. I hesitated though, uncertain what to choose and not wanting to make an ass of myself.
I didn’t have to worry. The feel of Marat’s leg beside mine as he squeezed in beside me settled over me like a security blanket.
His chest rumbled, and I closed my eyes, loving the animalistic sounds he made. He lifted his fork, using it to cut into one of the dishes before us, then presented it to my lips.
“Try this,” he murmured, his voice like rough silk against my ears.
It was like sensory overload. His chiseled good looks were even more devastating up close to the point I had to close my eyes to stop myself from dissolving into a puddle of hormones at his feet.
Then there was the way his chest vibrated with his words. The sound of that growly rumble. The purely masculine scent of his soap flowed through the air, and I breathed him in wholeheartedly.
The sound of his suit brushing against my clothes as he pushed in closer had me clenching my thighs tight together beneath the table. Marat pressed the steel pronged fork against my lip, and I opened, using my tongue to slide the morsel free.
It was the sexiest thing I’d ever experienced to date. Being fed by this man who looked like a fallen angel and fucked like the Devil himself.
I didn’t know what I was eating. The flavors of each bite he fed me burst inside my mouth. And it was good. All of it was good.
Bite by bite. Plate by plate. Marat fed me. Each action was a sensual form of foreplay I’d never engaged in. By the time we were done, I was panting.
“Are you finished?” he asked me, and I nodded, incapable of speech.
I felt hot and swollen. Needy. Desperate. We needed to talk, but it could wait. I wanted him too much for words.
“Let’s go.”