Been Loving You Too Long (16 page)

Looking back to Kaitlyn, Vincent nodded to her and she had the small quartet begin playing as everyone took their seats.
 
Moving toward the arbor of roses, now festooned with soft lights and ribbons, Vincent waited for Ophelia to make her appearance.
 

The terrace doors opened and she walked through them, more beautiful than he’d ever seen her.
 
The ivory lace clung to her curves, accentuating every exaggerated inch of her undeniably sinful body.

His pulse began a heavy tattoo, his blood pounding in his veins.
 

Her hair, had been swept to one side, held in place with crystal adorned combs, and an old fashioned bird cage veil covered one eye.
 
The deep, rich red of her lips was a stark and carnal contrast to the white gown.
  

He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
 

The musicians faded into the background, the small crowd of people simply vanished from his consciousness.
 
There was nothing but Ophelia moving toward him.
 
In that moment, he regretted nothing as deeply as he regretted that they wouldn’t have forever, that he would never be the type of man she needed, that she deserved.
 

The secrets bubbled inside him, percolating with the anger and resentment. For a split second, he selfishly thought of saying
‘damn the consequences’
and holding on to what he wanted most.
 
A year would never be enough.
 
A lifetime with her would never be enough.

The ceremony was simple and achingly swift.

Somehow, he managed to make the appropriate responses.
 
He spoke when he needed to and slipped the heavy, gold band on Ophelia’s finger when he was supposed to.
 
Considering that everything seemed to be happening in a fog, he called that a victory.
 

“By the authority vested in me by the great state of Louisiana, I now pronounce you husband and wife...Vincent, you may kiss your bride.” The judge’s words were voiced with congratulatory good humor.

The judge couldn’t know that there was nothing humorous in this for him. He leaned in, touching his lips to Ophelia’s.
 
As kisses went, it was fairly chaste, but there was a significance to it that belied that.
 

The tradition of kissing the bride was about openly expressing that one had the right to do so.
 
It was about staking a claim, and he felt that viscerally.
 
Rocked by the depth of feeling, of possessiveness that struck him, Vincent eased back from her, looking deeply into her eyes and seeing his own confusion reflected back at him.

He knew then, that they were both in over their heads, and it was only a matter of time before they began to sink.
 

CHAPTER EIGHT

The reception was small, a catered dinner in the formal dining room.
 
It wasn’t the first time Ophelia had been seated at the table there.
 
Thomas had insisted that she join him when he entertained. Always treating her more as a guest than an employee, but that was a far cry from sitting at that table as a member of the family.
 

By virtue of being Vincent’s wife, albeit temporarily, Ophelia had been thrust from the world of servant to served.
 
It was an uncomfortable feeling.
 
Still, she smiled and behaved as if nothing were wrong, as if she were totally at ease and not completely out of her element.
 

This act was her job for the moment.
 
She was to give the appearance of a happy bride and allay any fears or suspicions that might be aroused by the hasty nature of their wedding.

It was a relief when at last the photographer had gone.
 
If she were to slip and reveal some of her inner turmoil, at least it wouldn’t be captured for posterity.
 

The day had gone shockingly well, in spite of its inauspicious and exceedingly hung-over beginnings. She should’ve known that nothing could go perfectly.

It was Claude who managed to spoil the generally happy mood.
 
“Vincent,” he began, just as the main course was being served, “We need to talk about this deal with the Tate family. Just because you and Melina didn’t quite hit it off is no reason to let the whole thing go to seed.”

“This is a wedding reception—my wedding reception to be precise, Claude.
 
Business can wait, at least for a day or two,” Vincent seethed.
 
He didn’t address the fact that Claude had even mentioned Melina.
 

“The hell it can, son,” he blustered.
 
“If you hadn’t blown the opportunity to wine and dine Melina, I wouldn’t have to be sweet talking her daddy now, just to keep this afloat!
 
We don’t have the time to waste!”

The room had grown uncomfortably quiet, everyone staring, obviously aware of the power struggle between the two men.
 
When Vincent spoke, he did so in hushed tones, “For the moment, I am still CEO of DuChamps Hotels.
 
I won’t say this again...We will not cheapen the DuChamps’ brand by partnering with a cut rate, discount, textile company.
 
Thomas was as committed to that as I am, in spite of any lapses in judgment he might have made at the end.”

Ophelia felt the shift in the room, as all eyes turned to her.
  

Almost everyone in the room, save for a few people, knew the circumstances of the marriage, and they all knew that she was the lapse in Thomas’ judgments that Vincent referred to.
 

It didn’t matter that it was true, that it hadn’t been spoken to hurt her or to belittle her, but to put Claude in his place.
 
It still stung.
 
Trying to save face, to salvage her crumbling pride, she smiled at Claude. “Monday is soon enough, Claude.
 
This is a party, after all.”

Vincent turned to her then, and she could see the regret in his eyes, the knowledge that he’d wounded, even if it had been unintentional.

Before he could apologize, Justin rose and lifted his glass.
 

Ophelia braced herself for an awkward moment. Justin, God bless him, never seemed to get it right.
 
How someone could be wealthy, talented and incredibly handsome, yet still painfully socially awkward was beyond her.
 
It would only add to the misery of the current moment.
 

“I’d like to propose a toast to my brother and his beautiful bride. Ophelia, you’ve always been a part of this family, and I’m thrilled we’ve finally found a way to make it official.
 
And if my brother acts like an asshole, I’ll beat him up for you.”

Ophelia laughed along with everyone else, the tension dissipating somewhat.

Vincent must have gauged her level of discomfort because he leaned toward her to whisper in her ear, “Do I need to tell you how sorry I am for the way that came out?”

“No.
 
One should never apologize for the truth. Just don’t make me sic Justin on you.”

Recognizing it as the peace offering it was, a slight smile curved his lips.
 
“As far as toasts go, it could have gone much worse.”

Ophelia nodded.
 
“And it would have if Kaitlyn hadn’t written those lines and made him memorize them.”

Vincent laughed softly, acknowledging the truth of the statement.
 

The rest of the evening went remarkably well.
 
Ruby left early, teary eyed and obviously picturing great grandchildren as Justin helped her to a waiting car.

By eight o’clock, dinner was over, the simple yet elegant cake had been cut and served.
 
The top layer had been placed in a decorative box and put in the freezer by the caterer, who insisted that it was to be eaten on the first anniversary for good luck.

When he announced this, Ophelia had smiled grimly.
 
Perhaps, she could comfort herself with it after she signed the divorce papers that would undoubtedly be drawn up and ready for her on that very day.
 

After a couple of hours, and the guests gone with the catering crew dismantling everything, Ophelia stood in the kitchen uncertain of what her duties were.
 
As a secretary and eventually caretaker to Thomas, she would have been keeping track of the progress and making sure that everything went smoothly.
 
In her present role, the waters were muddied.
 
No longer a servant, but far too new in her role as a wife, she felt out of place.

Kaitlyn entered the kitchen then.
 
She’d worn a simple dress of teal blue that flowed over her lithe curves and left one shoulder bare.
 
With her short pixie hair and statement earrings, she looked more ready for a red carpet than a small, family wedding.
 
“Claude finally left, thank God!
 
I swear it takes less than one drink for that man to become a total bastard,” she said quietly.
 
Of course, Claude having one drink was like her having one Oreo.
 
By one she meant the whole pack.
 
“I think he was expecting someone to hold up blood stained sheets for him to inspect.”

Ophelia shook her head sadly. “He’s a decade late for that—okay more than a decade.
 
Still, if Claude is that out of touch with the times it’s no wonder Vincent doesn’t want him in charge of the company.”

Chuckling, Kaitlyn agreed.
 
“He is that out of touch.
 
Definitely.
 
It’s a bit horrifying to think he might one day be in charge of my financial future, limited as it would be at that point. I’ll handle things down here if you want to go on up.”

She did and she didn’t.
 
The idea of having Vincent’s hands on her, of letting the heat and passion sweep away all the worry and stress for just a few minutes was incredibly inviting.
 

At the same time, he was like a drug to her, and every hit could be the one that sent her spiraling over the edge, to a place she would never recover from.
 
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re pushy?”

“Every damned day,” Kaitlyn quipped.
 
“I’ve got this—and you can’t hide forever.”

Ophelia started to walk away, but paused.
 
Turning to face Kaitlyn, she spoke softly, “I appreciate everything you did.
 
And no matter how anything turns out in the end, today was beautiful—and I owe you for that.”

“Just make him happy if you can. He spends too much time worrying about the rest of us.
 
And please forgive him for being an asshole today.
 
He didn’t mean it the way it came out.”

Ophelia didn’t say anything, just walked away.
 
The truth was he had meant it.
 
It hadn’t been his intention to hurt her, but that didn’t make the words any less true.
 
He saw their marriage as a mistake Thomas had foisted on them.
 
It wasn’t entirely inaccurate.
 
She wanted him, and he wanted her, but both of them had so much baggage, it was unlikely they’d do anything other than make one another miserable.

Moving up the stairs, she made her way down the hall to their room.
 

Justin had moved temporarily into what had been Vincent’s apartment in the Warehouse District.
 
After seeing to the caterers, Kaitlyn would be gone, out to a club and eventually to her small condo in the French Quarter.

It would be just the two of them in the house.
 
No interruptions.
 
No distractions.
 
Shivering, Ophelia stepped into the dimly lit room.
 
Kaitlyn again, she thought, noting the candles and flowers.
 
For someone who professed to be a cold hearted bitch and proud of it, Kaitlyn had a shockingly romantic streak.
 

Removing the crystal studded combs, she began the arduous task of taking down her hair.
 
The thick mass had been pinned to one side and the weight had left her neck stiff.
 
Rubbing the sore muscles there, she didn’t hear the door open, but it took only seconds for her to realize that she wasn’t alone.
 
Lifting her head, she met Vincent’s gaze in the mirror.

His expression was inscrutable in the candlelight, but the tension that hummed between them was palpable.
 
He moved towards her with slow, deliberate strides. He was like a lion, she thought, deceptively at ease until ready to strike.
 

When his hand replaced hers, kneading the aching muscles, she couldn’t hold back the soft moan of pleasure.
 
His hands were like magic as they worked away the knots of tension that had taken up residence there.
 

“How’s the hangover?” he asked.
 

“Oddly enough, it wasn’t so bad after the shower, and once I threw up again after lunch...But the ibuprofen did help and whatever Ruby puts in that concoction of hers.
 
And no, I wasn’t asking for the recipe.
 
I’m better off not knowing.”

“Probably,” he agreed, stepping closer.
 

The heat of his body seeped into hers and the urge to simply lean into him, to let his heat and strength envelop her was almost too much.
 

“My God, it feels like a year since I touched you. If I didn’t know better, I’d say all of my sister’s inopportune interruptions had been on purpose.”

Ophelia hadn’t thought about it, but she didn’t doubt that he was correct.
 
But she didn’t want to talk about Kaitlyn, “I don’t think I can get out of this dress without help.”

Vincent chuckled. “I think I’ll need an engineering degree to make that happen.”

Ophelia reached behind her and tugged at the laces until the bow slipped free. “Just keep loosening them.”

Vincent hooked one finger into the laces and began loosening them in turn until the dress sagged. “I don’t know if I said it earlier, but you looked beautiful today.”

Ophelia was having to hold it up in front of her, as he undid them.
 
“I felt beautiful. I wasn’t sure about this dress initially, but I think it was a good choice.”

~~****~~

Vincent concurred completely.
 
The dress had been a stunning choice, highlighting every lush curve of her figure.
 
“I agree.
 
It was perfect, but right now I’d rather see you in nothing.” he
 
pushed the fabric down to her hips, and then lower, until it pooled on the floor, revealing the undergarments beneath it.