Girl on a Diamond Pedestal

by Maisey Yates

  It didn’t really make her happy though, and she wasn’t sure why. She didn’t want to think about why.

  “Great. Yes. Yay for met goals and all of that.”

  “When I put my mind to something, it gets done.”

  “Yeah, I uh … remember that. From last night.” She felt her face get hot and she cursed her pale skin, knowing she was wearing her embarrassment like a neon sign. Ethan’s stomach tightened. Noelle’s face was flushed and she looked perfect. Perfect to take to bed and spend hours kissing, tasting, making love to. But he couldn’t afford that. He couldn’t afford the strange kind of attachment he felt for her.

  He’d made the decision sometime during his shower as he’d dealt with a hard-on that refused to quit. She was sexy, no doubt. Compelling and amazing in bed. But he didn’t have time for a lover, especially not a lover who had such a strong effect on him. Not after Grey’s was signed over to him.

  This relationship was on a very tight timetable. As soon as the ink hit the signature line on the divorce decree, that was the end. Because a new contract would take priority then, and Noelle … well, she would be taken care of, at least. He would make sure of that.

  He breathed in deeply, trying to loosen the feeling in his gut. It felt as if someone had reached a hand inside of him and grabbed his stomach in their fist.

  “I would love to push you back against the wall right now and go in for some hard and fast,” he said, arousal and the general direction of his thoughts making his voice rough. “But I think you might need some recovery time. And we have a plane to catch.”

  Noelle looked uncomfortable with his choice of words, and he didn’t really blame her. He was being an ass because he wanted her, and he was contemplating never having her again at the same time his body throbbed with need of her.

  “A plane?” she asked, pale eyebrows arched.

  “Oh yeah, we really are getting married in Vegas.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “No. How tacky would you like it?”

  He was rewarded with a smile. Maybe, just maybe things could get back on good footing. Maybe they could have the next month together. Sating their desire for each other, and hanging out as companions. Because whether they were in bed or not, he simply liked having her around.

  Bloody hell, that was complicated.

  “Maybe not Elvis-tacky, but I feel like a leopard-print wedding dress might be pretty awesome.”

  “Are you joking?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Well, I can’t wear white, Ethan, and don’t pretend you don’t know why. You were there last night.”

  “I’ll never forget it.” That part he said with absolute sincerity. Because he knew for a fact that he would never forget Noelle.

  He knew it with a certainty he couldn’t recall ever feeling before. No matter how many women came after her, no matter how much time passed, the memory of her silken skin beneath his fingertips would linger. And it would always make him burn.

  He wondered if she would think of him like that. Or if he would fade in her mind. That seemed to be the way most people felt about him.

  He closed off that train of thought, tried to get his breathing steady.

  “Right. Well, I guess we both need to pack.”

  Their quick flight to Las Vegas had already appeared on some entertainment news websites by the time Ethan’s private plane had touched down in Nevada. Speculation about a wedding was already rampant, of course, because in Vegas, gambling or a quickie wedding was usually on the docket.

  Either way, it was newsworthy.

  Noelle looked pale, her blue eyes large in her face as he took out the keycard to the hotel suite and unlocked the door. They were staying in one of Grey’s most famous resorts, a den of sin and sex that was infamous even on the strip, adding to the irony of his grandfather’s insistence on him marrying, being a family man before he took over the company.

  “You all right?” Ethan asked.

  Noelle looked up from the smartphone. “Just reeling. The speculation is intense. Frighteningly accurate.”

  He took the phone out of her hands. “In what way?”

  “Just that we came here to get married.”

  “Nothing about a leopard-print wedding dress?”

  She laughed, a high, kind of unnatural sound. “Uh, no.”

  He took her hand in his, her skin so soft and tempting it made him ache. “Are you okay, really?”

  “Do I look that bad?”

  “You look nervous.”

  “We’re getting married tomorrow. And I know it’s not married married, and I know it shouldn’t matter. But it’s kind of overwhelming.”

  He wanted to kiss her. But he also felt as if resisting the impulse was important. He needed to get a grip on this … thing between them. Not that he wasn’t going to sleep with her again. He planned on it. But he needed to be in control. To rid himself of that shaky, wild feeling that overtook him when her tongue touched his.

  That sensation of being a teenage virgin that he couldn’t quite seem to shake. Well, he was shaking it.

  He pushed open the door to the hotel suite.

  “Wow,” Noelle said, walking into the room, her eyes fixed on the crystal chandelier hanging low in the center of the massive entryway. “This is …”

  “You said you wanted tacky.”

  “Eek.”

  She walked over to the transparent bar, built from thick Plexiglas and fashioned into a kind of art-deco piece that seemed to transcend style. And taste. The walls were glossy too, and they seemed to be made from some kind of opaque, frosted glass. It was all extremely expensive, from the plush carpets to the rich drapes, it was just lacking in any kind of restraint.

  “This place makes a killing,” he said. “Just so you know.”

  “Well, it is kind of fun. And hey, why not? It goes with the fake wedding.”

  “We could have the reception here,” he suggested dryly.

  “Oh no, please tell me we’re not really having a reception.”

  “No. That’s the point of eloping.”

  “You’re right. Let’s do it now.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes.” She looked determined, a glint in her blue eyes. Startling and arousing. “Marry me now. Why wait until tomorrow? There are twenty-four-hour chapels and very loose laws about obtaining licenses in this state, and I say we make the most of it.”

  “You seem to know a lot about it. Is there anything you need to tell me?”

  “No quickie marriages in my past, but time spent playing the Vegas Strip? Oh yeah. I did shows here for a year when I was nine.”

  “You’re sort of amazing, do you know that?” he asked.

  Her cheeks darkened. “I never really thought so, but, thank you.”

  “I say we go find a chapel,” he said.

  The sooner they got the marriage out of the way, the sooner everything could be finished. All the loose ends tied up. All the paperwork signed. Grey’s Resorts moved into his name. And he would have the satisfaction of seeing his father’s face as he confronted him with everything he would never have.

  So why was the wedding night all he could think about?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ETHAN wore jeans and a tight black T-shirt. And Noelle had managed to find a leopard-print skirt and black tank top in the gift shop on their way to the nearest chapel.

  The car ride was silent until they pulled in to the parking lot. The white chapel, framed with neon lighting, was like a beacon amongst all the color of the strip. Bold letters boasted they had low waits and good rates.

  Noelle snickered. All of it was simply too absurd, too wondrously insane not to be enjoyed.

  “What?” Ethan asked.

  “This is the funniest, craziest thing I’ve ever done.”

  “Ranks up there for me too.”

  He got out of the limo and rounded the shiny black beast of a car, opening her door for her.

  “Such a gentleman,” she said. “N
o wonder I said yes.”

  “And I’m paying you a lot of money.”

  Her stomach tightened. “Yeah. And that.” She didn’t want a reminder of that. Not now.

  She followed him through the double doors and into the little building. It was much more sedate than its exterior implied.

  “You’re Noelle Birch!” The girl standing behind the counter, her hair dyed blue-black and cropped short, her arms decorated with tattoos, looked at Noelle with wide eyes.

  “Uh … yes. I am.”

  “Wow. I have all your CDs. I begged my mom to let me take piano lessons because of you.”

  “Oh … wow. That’s … a really great compliment. Thank you.”

  “I kind of suck. I mean, I don’t suck, but I play here for weddings, so how good can I be, right?”

  Noelle looked over at Ethan, then back at her fan. “I don’t play much of anywhere anymore myself.”

  “Getting married though, huh?”

  “Yes. Yes I am.”

  “We’ll take the paperwork,” Ethan said.

  “Right!” The girl bent down behind the counter and popped back up with a clipboard. “Just sign and date. Do you want Elvis? He’s extra.”

  “No,” she and Ethan answered in unison.

  “Somehow, I didn’t figure you would. I’m Tara, by the way.”

  “Hi, Tara. Nice to meet you,” Noelle said.

  “Thanks.”

  Noelle exchanged an awkward smile with Tara while Ethan quickly filled the form out before passing it to her. Her fingers shook as she gripped the pen, and her writing reflected that.

  She signed it and Ethan added a check to the papers before passing it back.

  “Sweet. That’s one way to get your autograph,” Tara said.

  “I could … sign something … else.”

  Tara produced a blank sheet of paper and Noelle signed it while Ethan stood next to her, his impatience apparent.

  “We’ll just take the next available officiant,” Ethan said. “If he happens to be Elvis I’m all right with that.”

  “Nah, I think Janine is free. Just a sec.”

  Tara disappeared behind a purple curtain and Noelle looked over at Ethan. “You were the one who wanted to get married in Vegas,” she said.

  “I wanted no fuss.”

  “This is no fuss. There aren’t five hundred people here, are there?”

  “No.”

  “Will your grandparents be upset that they weren’t invited?”

  He frowned. “It’s better they aren’t here. I don’t really want them getting too attached to this. To us.”

  She tried to ignore the sharp stab of hurt his comment left behind. He’d said the wedding was separate from their personal stuff. So she shouldn’t go getting weepy and hurt now.

  “No. No of course not,” she said quickly.

  Tara appeared again, a smile on her face as she rounded the counter. “This way.” She gestured to a long hallway and led them through the second door. “I’d ask if you wanted to pay for a pianist but … I’m pretty sure you don’t want to hear me play. We have one of your CDs here though. I’ll put it on. And congratulations!”

  Ethan looked up at the domed ceiling and Noelle followed his gaze. There was a poor reproduction of the Sistine Chapel’s mural painted there.

  “This is depressing,” Ethan said.

  Music floated in over the speakers. Very familiar music. “Not as depressing as that,” Noelle frowned.

  “It’s nice.”

  “Thanks, Ethan.” She smiled as the familiar notes continued. “It’s funny because when I’m nervous I go over pieces in my head, imagine how I play them. Fast. Slow. Soft. Loud. It helps get me focused. Now my music is playing for me.”

  “Have you done that since I’ve known you?”

  “Yes. Lots.”

  “I make you nervous?”

  “Sometimes. Mostly you just make me excited,” she admitted, the words spilling out in a rush.

  He studied her face, his dark eyes filled with intensity. “Noelle …”

  A woman with a very similar look to Tara walked in, Tara trailing behind, acting as a witness. “Hi there, you must be Ethan and Noelle. Are you ready to do this?”

  Noelle looked at Ethan again and her heart slammed against her breastbone. She was ready. And that was scary. Because here they were in the world’s tackiest place to get married. Ethan looked like he was headed to the gallows and they had an officiant with a nose ring. And yet, it felt right.

  If it had been a huge wedding with a big white gown and a harpist, she might expect that. Might expect to be lured in by the fantasy. But there was no fantasy here. Only a stained green carpet and fake flowers woven through tacky white lattice.

  And it felt momentous. And amazing. And it shouldn’t.

  Janine gave the most informal, straightforward version of marriage vows Noelle had ever heard. Nothing florid or personal, just the legal stuff.

  “Do you have rings?” Janine asked.

  “Oh …” Noelle felt stupid for wishing she had a ring for Ethan. The wedding didn’t mean anything, and a ring would mean even less. But for some reason, the image of a thin gold band on Ethan’s left hand made her feel short of breath.

  “I do.” Ethan reached into his pocket and took out a small box. He opened it slowly, the glitter of the large center stone catching in the overhead lighting.

  “Ethan …”

  He took her hand in his and pulled the ring from its silken nest, sliding it gently onto her finger. “A woman as unique and special as you deserves something equally special.”

  It was both of those things. A band that was shaped to fit her unique engagement ring, diamonds encircling the platinum, the precious metal fashioned into vines, the stone like glittering flowers.

  “I don’t know … I didn’t know.” This was a ring beyond her expectation or imagination.

  It locked together perfectly with the engagement ring. A perfect set. A perfect couple. Unlike them.

  “And now, by the power vested in me by the State of Nevada, I pronounce you husband and wife. You can kiss now,” Janine said.

  Ethan didn’t hesitate. And for that she was grateful. He pulled her into his arms, his kiss starving, devouring. And she was right there with him. She was dizzy with her desire for him, with the need to do so much more than kiss him. She hadn’t realized just how much a day without physical contact had worn on her.

  He slowed the kiss down, the movements of his mouth less ravenous but still deep, his tongue stroking over hers. When he started to move away, he paused, pressing another kiss to the side of her lips, then the other side.

  She really did melt then, his strong arms the only thing keeping her from sliding to the floor.

  “Wow,” she breathed.

  Then Ethan laughed, a smile curving those talented lips of his. “Glad you feel that way.”

  Janine fanned herself with her notes. “I’m with her. Wow.”

  “You’re universally appreciated,” Noelle smiled at Ethan.

  Ethan forced a tight smile in return. “Is that it?”

  “Yes. You’re married. Mr. and Mrs.…” she checked her notes, “Grey.”

  “All right then.” Ethan took her hand in his. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t forget your marriage license.” She handed Ethan the documents they’d signed earlier, which now boasted both Janine’s and Tara’s signatures too. “All legal now.”

  Ethan took the license from Janine and folded it carefully. It was done. The marriage was legal. It was the last thing he needed to get his grandfather to sign the resorts over to him. But he didn’t feel particularly accomplished. His long-range goal seemed hazy, blotted out by the desire that was pounding through him.

  He’d expected a few hours to give him dominion over the need he felt for Noelle, but it didn’t seem to be working that way.

  It’ll burn out. You know it will. It always does.

  Lust was like that. Hot and b
right at first, but it burned out quickly. There was no real fuel to sustain the blaze. Just a brilliant flash, spectacular for a moment, then growing cold after that first real explosion.

  This was lasting a bit longer. Probably because Noelle had been a virgin. And because he’d spent so much time with her. He genuinely liked her, felt a connection with her. But that seemed natural. Normal, really.

  Not that anything about the pure, liquid desire rushing through his veins seemed natural or normal.

  Later. After tonight. After he made love to Noelle, he would call his grandfather to get the ball rolling on the acquisition of Grey’s. Until then though, he had to clear his thoughts. And he didn’t think he’d even be able to see straight if he didn’t have Noelle as soon as possible.

  “We need to get on with the wedding night,” he whispered, his voice rough. “As soon as possible.”

  Her cheeks turned deep pink again and he felt an ache that started in his stomach and spread low to his groin. He wanted her so much it was beyond his experience. Again, she unmanned him. Made him feel like the virgin.

  He didn’t know how she managed to do that.

  “I’m all for that,” she whispered back.

  “Not playing Mozart in your head, are you?”

  “No. When I’m with you now it just kind of … flows. I hear music all the time.”

  He ignored the tightening in his chest and focused on that in his pants. It was safer. A bit more familiar.

  “Come on.”

  He led her out of the chapel and back into the warm, dry evening. The limo was still there, idling in front of the chapel. He opened the door for her, she slid inside, and he joined her. As soon as the door was closed he pulled her into his arms, kissing her, tasting her, trying to sate the deep, gnawing hunger that seemed ever-present in him. A hunger that he didn’t know if he could satisfy.

  He could lose himself trying. And that didn’t seem like such a bad prospect.

  He couldn’t remember the last time kissing had felt like the main event. Maybe the last time he’d kissed Noelle. Usually, at this point, he’d be undressing one of them, but at the moment, he simply wanted to taste her. Savor her.