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  “Awww, sweetie. This has been more fun than throwing together Amber Preston’s fortieth in Atlantic City. And believe me, that was fun!”

  Their shared laughter over that was interrupted by male footsteps on the patio outside. Dante Tieri’s distinct baritone followed. “Knock, knock. Rose? You in there? I believe it’s time for you to re-domesticate my best friend, darling.”

  “Come in, Mr. Tieri.” Mimi chimed it as she dashed a quick look at herself in the vanity mirror. “All of us girls are decent…but some of us would be happy to change that status for you, gorgeous.”

  Dante chuckled and flashed his flawless signature smile. “Why don’t we all make it to the reception first, Ms. Marston?”

  “Yes, Sir.” The woman’s eyes dropped demurely. Rose bit back another giggle. Mimi Marston, a closet kinkster? One could never tell what lay beneath people and their shells. She just knew it felt wonderful to be out from beneath hers, set free from fear, about to be joined with the man who had made it all possible.

  Dante pulled her out of her reverie, looking around the room with curiosity. “Your mother and your brother aren’t here?”

  Rose picked up her bouquet, a simple arrangement of burgundy and white roses. “They’re seated already.” She shrugged at the twinge of sadness in the man’s gaze. “It’s all right, really. They’ve both had a lot to adjust to since April. They’ll either get used to it, or they won’t.” A little laugh sneaked in. “Maybe we should’ve given in to their special request of inviting Tristan Rouselle. Guess Mother would be in a better mood then.”

  “Really?” Dante’s sarcastic snort had her doing a double take. When Rose impaled him with a questioning stare, he glanced away and muttered, “Not sure Rouselle would be coming for the company of your mother, darling.”

  The string quartet on the lawn began a new tune, bumping their volume with it. As the lush strains of Bach filled the air, the small crowd of guests rose from their seats.

  It was time.

  Her knees wobbled beneath her. She gripped Dante tighter with each step they took. For the first time today, true apprehension filled her. She caught sight of Mother and Shane, their faces etched in forced propriety. There were some other similar faces, from that other day when she’d expected to have a wedding ring on her finger within the hour. What if she turned the corner and the altar in front of her was empty again? What if Mark had decided she really wasn’t worth his patience, his dominance, his love? What if her heart was about to endure five hundred times the damage Owen had ever dealt it?

  You don’t belong here. This shouldn’t be happening. This is too good to be true, you know. The fairy tale is about to—

  Begin.

  She gazed down the aisle, and there he was. Tall. Smiling. Proud. Breathtaking.

  His Marine Corps dress blues framed his form perfectly, accentuating the breadth of his shoulders and the muscles rivaling men half his age. He straightened when she turned onto the white carpet strewn with burgundy rose petals, nodding when David Pennington, his best man, leaned and murmured something to him. Standing on the other side of the gazebo was Dasha, who’d joyously agreed to be her maid of honor. They’d quickly become friends over the last few months with Dasha lending her star power to Rose’s events for Iraqi children and Rose returning the favor by volunteering at the Chicago branch of the American Cancer Society.

  For now, the pop star provided a soundtrack of tears as she and Mark traded their traditional vows, rings, and a searing kiss for luck that had Rose wondering how soon she could start that “luck” in their honeymoon suite at the Peninsula Hotel. Unfortunately, a little over a hundred guests wandered across the grass to wait for them beneath a twinkle-lighted canopy, now glowing even brighter as the sun dipped beyond the water.

  Rose sighed and looked up at her husband as the photographer declared he was finished with their post-ceremony shots. “On to phase two?” she asked.

  Mark’s eyes burned with dark-gold intent. This heat was different than his intensity during the ceremony, when she’d felt like he burned each vow into her as he spoke it. “Not yet,” he whispered, clutching her hand. “Come walk with me. There’s something else we need to discuss.”

  Rose gulped. Shit. What was making him so serious? As they stopped at the edge of the lawn, now drenched in deep-orange light from the sunset, she attempted a little laugh.

  “Uh, Senator Moore? You do know that prenups are usually signed before the wedding?”

  He robbed the words from her lips by yanking her close and smashing his mouth to hers. This kiss was different than the sexy make-out smooch he’d given as her new husband. This was a possession, a raw command of her Dom. She whimpered in fierce need, letting him take whatever he needed.

  “I love you so much.” He growled it against her lips.

  “As I love you.” Rose sighed it.

  He pulled up her left hand, kissing the finger that now held her goose-egg-sized wedding ring. “Rose…you know this is only half of belonging to me, right?”

  She obediently dropped her lashes as soon as that distinct timbre entered his voice: the tone that told her he’d shifted completely into Dominant mode. She replied quietly, “Yes, Sir.”

  “Then you’ll also wear this for me.”

  She lifted her gaze.

  Then gasped.

  “Oh.” She ran her finger along the baguette diamonds encrusted into the shiny white leather collar. Between each jewel, the leather was embossed and then hand-painted with an exquisite burgundy rose. The choker cinched at the back with a pure gold lock. Mark held the key with gentle care, a symbol of the same way he looked after her heart every day.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “It means forever.” His voice was solemn. “Do you understand?” He tilted her face up with a finger beneath her chin. “Are you ready?”

  She nodded, unable to hold back the tears anymore. They spilled and flowed as he kissed her again, locking the collar around her neck in the same motion. When he was done, his eyes filled with golden adoration.

  Rose smiled and whispered the words that sang out from every depth of her soul, filling her with a joy she’d never imagined possible.

  “I love you, my Sir. My Master. My Husband.”

  “In permanent marker?”

  She laughed. Then released a sigh filled with the joy in her heart and the completion in her soul. A sigh full of the love he’d given her…and made her believe in once more.

  “Yes. Oh, yes.”

  Continue the Suited for Sin Series with Book Three

  Keep reading for an excerpt!

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  Excerpt from Submit: Book Three in the Suited for Sin Series

  Chapter One

  “Can stars really collide?”

  The question came from the lips, coated with dark-red lipstick, of Dante Tieri’s date for the evening. Her name was Suzanne Collier—Suzanne, not “Suz” or “Suzie,” she was sure to tell him—and the question was actually refreshing. It was the first thing she’d said all night that didn’t involve his clothes, his business, or his new condo at the Elysian, as well as the tour she clearly expected at the end of the night. In short, she was one of his usual date selections. Blonde, beautiful, young, vivacious, but close enough to his forty-three that nobody cocked a brow. The checklist went on from there, and nearly all the boxes were filled. To all who cared, he’d made an ideal selection for one of the most important Chicago events he bankrolled each year.

  Which made his yawn, concealed as he reached for more champagne, not an encouraging thing.

  “I’m not sure Elton John was thinking about cosmic physics when he wrote the song, darling.” He smiled, amused at gazing into her kohl-caked eyes and facing the cloudy effects of the alcohol. Maybe she’d be more interesting after he got a few more flutes into her. “It’s a great lyric, though. One of my—”

  Suzanne stole the last word off his lips by smashing hers to
them. It was a kiss of determination, enforced by her hand at his nape, gripping him hard. Instinct compelled him to hold her waist as she went for tongue play, though he guessed the Taittinger had dulled his blood. His body reacted with a mild surge of warmth, nothing more. He opened a little wider, letting her explore him, groaning as she dived for his tonsils with nearly professional confidence.

  He did a mental pullback. Shit. She really did kiss like a pro.

  He yanked back physically too.

  “Thank you,” he managed to murmur. “But, umm, appearances, darling.” He gazed across the room, through the forest of military dress attire, knowing damn well that none of these people cared who the hell he was or whether he humped an ostrich in front of them. “I’m sure you understand.”

  “Certainly.” Suzanne’s reply matched the smooth line she ran down his sleeve with a dark-red fingernail. “Just wanted you to have a preview for later.”

  He started running a list of I’ve-gotta-call-it-an-early-night excuses.

  His effort was interrupted by a whoop from the dance floor that sliced the air as the ballad ended. The outburst was so loud, it visibly shook the banner overhead.

  THANK YOU, CHICAGO VETERANS, ACTIVE DUTY, AND FAMILIES.

  As the disc jockey hit the Play button on a bass-heavy dance tune, Dante joined the rest of the crowd to observe his best friend, Mark Moore, sweeping a curvy brunette off her feet. The man’s grin was brilliant against his well-trimmed beard as he twirled her a couple of times and then set her down and grabbed her hand, setting a path back to where Dante sat with Suzanne.

  Dante greeted the couple with a smirk he had to paste to his lips. Their giddy delight in each other was so palpable, it made his embrace with Suzanne seem a cartoon. His chest went taut. Fuck. Just admit it, you asshole. You envy him. More than a little. It’s ugly as hell, but it’s the truth.

  “Well, Rose.” He managed to fake his way through an easy drawl at least, addressing the gorgeous woman nestled against his friend’s chest. “Marker Man doesn’t raise the roof like that unless there’s a damn good reason. And I have a feeling his ‘damn good reason’ means I’m about to lose a tremendous employee.” He arched his brows at Mark. “You talked her into it after all, eh? You put a ring on her finger just two months ago, and now you want her around on a full-time basis? This is the thanks I get for footing the bill on your annual love child of a pet project?”

  “Bite me, Tieri.” Mark chuckled. “The marines were half my life. And didn’t you just sign the contract to bankroll the Memorial Day cruise on the lake too? I think somebody just likes ogling women in uniform.”

  Suzanne grabbed his elbow. “I could get a uniform.”

  He was able to ignore her, thanks to Rose Fabian-Moore’s musical laugh. “Mr. Tieri, you could turn that gift for flattery into a new business. I’m not that huge of a loss. You have some amazing consultants on the Baghdad project.”

  He grunted. “None who’ve cared more about getting that school rebuilt, Rose.”

  The classic angles of her face crunched with emotion. “Yes. I’ll really miss those kids.” She glanced up at Mark. “Maybe we could take just one more quick trip there, to say good—”

  “No.” His friend nearly snarled the word. Dante furrowed the brows he’d just hiked at the man. He knew about Mark’s intensity; hell, he shared the trait to many degrees. But he’d never seen Marker Man this ferocious. “No,” Mark repeated. “And that’s final. Baghdad is no place for a pregnant woman.”

  Shock froze him for a second. Then he surged off the stool. “What. The. Fuck? You spunky dog!” He yanked his friend into a hug. “No wonder you hollered like a teenager. Congrats, man.”

  “Thanks.” Mark said it with heavy meaning. “That means a lot, Inferno Boy.”

  Though he chuckled at the nickname, Dante had to turn his gaze away again, lest Mark see what was going on in his soul. The self-honesty that had propelled him to millionaire status now turned traitor, forcing him to recognize that his envy had mutated to jealousy.

  Goddamn it, there was no denying it. He craved what Mark had found. The connection. The need. Yeah, even the protective snarls. He longed for the magic his friend had been brave enough to go after with all emotional guns blasting, despite the silly social whispers that had followed. Mark and Rose shared something that drowned it all out anyhow. Their love played a symphony of its own, blasting away those small minds and their meaningless squeals of disapproval. The two of them were certainly none the worse for wear in getting deleted from half the social invitation lists in the city. To be frank, they seemed happier for it.

  Hell. He could really get used to a calendar like that.

  “Umm…Mr. Tieri? Are you busy?”

  The shy greeting, coming from just out of his periphery, forced Dante to turn back. A female navy officer now stood there, a lieutenant if he read the stripes on her shoulder accurately, who looked ready to bolt from nervousness. He smiled out of sheer sympathy for the petite redhead. She was bracketed by two friends. A blonde, equally tiny, joined her in the squirming act. The last member of the trio, a taller brunette, stood off to the side and rolled her eyes in the universal code for get me out of here right now. His gaze was pulled to her. He got this reaction from a lot of people and prided himself in easing it by turning on the old-world Italian charm he’d learned so well from the source of the stuff: his grandfather. He tilted a big grin and—

  It froze. He froze.

  The halt to his gut, his chest, and his rational thinking happened sometime just after the rest of his senses fell ass over elbows into the magic of looking at her. Her sable hair was pulled back into a typical naval bun, now seeming more a goddess’s knot on her head. Her dramatic brows swept over forest-deep eyes. Her mouth was a generous sweep of dark cherry, the bottom a bit fuller than the top. Her nose wasn’t perfect, thank God, with a slight rounded tip that seemed made for kissing. Her strong chin perfectly finished the heart shape of her face.

  His gaze dipped, taking in the rest of her. God save him, he couldn’t help it. She was slim yet curved in all the right places. Her breasts looked gentle and plush, decent handfuls that were matched by the soft swell of her ass, and legs that made her government pumps look as erotic as pole-dancer stilts. Damn it, when had naval skirt suits gotten so sexy?

  He told himself to shake it off. To crack some lame one-liner that would set her at ease and make her want to stay here, in his direct universe, nearly close enough to touch. Shit, just thinking of touching her—well, now he knew what creative visualization meant, didn’t he? As well as sweet torture.

  As well as complete irony.

  Three minutes ago, he’d tossed a symbolic coin into the fountain of fate. He’d waved his goddamn melodramatic mental flag, declaring cravings for connection and need, possessiveness to the point of going feral about it, a lover and not just a date.

  Something a lot like this.

  In the back of his mind, he heard fate giggling at him. Hysterically.

  Acknowledgments

  Humble, grateful hugs to Jade Barker, Kimberly Ream, Tracy Roelle, and Jodi Lucius for being my first reader cheerleaders. You all made my first steps into this a more joyful and incredible experience!

  So many thanks to all the bloggers and reviewers who first loved this series. Your belief has meant so much!

  Special thanks to Victoria Blue, who encouraged me to get these books back into the world again.

  So many hugs of gratitude to Martha Frantz, For keeping me sane on a daily basis!

  And for all of the Roses in the world…

  Find your fantasy island.

  Find yourself.

  And never be afraid to let that freak flag fly, no matter what the world says.

  About Angel Payne

  USA Today bestselling romance author Angel Payne loves to focus on high-heat romance starring memorable alpha men and the women who love them. She has numerous book series to her credit, including the action-packed Bolt Sa
ga and Honor Bound series, Secrets of Stone series (with Victoria Blue), the intertwined Cimarron and Temptation Court series, the Suited for Sin series, and the Lords of Sin historicals, as well as several standalone titles.

  Angel is a native Southern Californian, leading to her love of being in the outdoors, where she often reads and writes. She still lives in Southern California with her soul-mate husband and beautiful daughter, to whom she is a proud cosplay/culture con mom. Her passions also include whisky tasting, shoe shopping, and travel.

  For more information, please follow Angel Payne at:

  AngelPayne.com

  Also by Angel Payne

  Suited for Sin Series:

  Sing

  Sigh

  Submit

  * * *

  The Bolt Saga:

  Bolt

  Ignite

  Pulse

  Fuse (Coming Soon)

  Surge (Coming Soon)

  Light (Coming Soon)

  * * *

  Honor Bound:

  Saved

  Cuffed

  Seduced

  Wild

  Wet

  Hot

  Masked

  Mastered

  Conquered

  Ruled (December 11, 2019)

  * * *

  Secrets of Stone Series:

  (with Victoria Blue)

  No Prince Charming

  No More Masquerade

  No Perfect Princess

  No Magic Moment

  No Lucky Number

  No Simple Sacrifice

  No Broken Bond

  No White Knight

  No Longer Lost (Coming Soon)

  No Curtain Call (Coming Soon)

  * * *