“I thought we agreed you’d be coming to me, wife.”

The possessive way Lachlan says the word sends shivers down my spine as he strides out of the elevator and comes toward me.

“Plans change, husband. Sit.” I gesture to Seven Sinners’ most requested table, which is covered with some of the best food New Orleans has to offer, and definitely the best whiskey. “I have more work than I realized, and since that’s stopping us from taking a honeymoon . . . I thought you might appreciate a dinner with a view. I can’t cook, so this is the best I could do.”

One of Lachlan’s eyebrows quirks up. “What do mean, you can’t cook?”

“You never asked. I hope that’s not a deal breaker for you now, because you’re stuck with me.”

His laughter booms through the empty restaurant.

I decided to keep it closed until tomorrow night, but begged Odile to come in regardless. I owe her a massive favor now, and from the way she devoured V with her eyes when he followed me into the kitchen, I have a feeling I know what that favor will be.

My sassy Cajun chef won’t care that he doesn’t speak. She’s got enough to say to carry on both sides of the conversation.

“It’s fortunate we both employ chefs, or we’d starve,” Lachlan says as he pulls out a chair for me, and I sit.

While he rounds the table to take his own seat, I ask, “You can’t cook either?”

“Nothing worth eating.”

“Good thing I’ve got you both covered tonight.” Odile glides across the floor with an extra swing to her walk as she places my final request on the table. A small cake on a silver platter.

I didn’t tell her it’s my wedding cake, though, because Lord knows she’d have a million more questions. Somehow, she missed seeing my ring, and I’m thankful for that.

First, I need the man across from me to tell me how the hell I’m going to explain to people that I’m suddenly married, and to whom I can deliver the explanation. I know he said this wouldn’t be normal, and I’m not asking for normal, but I do have to tell people something. I don’t even want to think about telling my family yet.

“Thank you, Odile.”

She props a hand on each hip. “Is there anything else I can get for you before I head home?”

“No. This is perfect. I appreciate it.”

She sweeps a look over me and then Lachlan. “Bon appétit.”

“We both appreciate it, Ms. Bordelon.”

I don’t know why it comes as a surprise to me that Lachlan knows her last name, but it certainly shocks Odile.

She raises her chin. “I don’t need to know nothing except that you’re gonna treat her right, sir.”

I bite down on my lip, wondering how he’ll respond.

“You have my word.”

“Then I’ll wish you both a good evening and be on my way.”

I smile at her as she backs away from the table, her gaze drawn to where V stands near the elevator.

“V, escort Ms. Bordelon down to her car, and then you’re free for the evening.”

Odile’s face lights up at Lachlan’s order, and she practically skips toward the silent man.

“You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed.”

Lachlan’s gaze comes back to mine. “You don’t think she can handle V?”

I glance to where Odile is already chattering at him as they step into the elevator. “I’m not sure he can handle her.”

Once again, Lachlan’s laughter echoes in the room, a sound I want to hear much more often.

When he’s finished, he glances at the cake and back at me. “Does she know?”

I shake my head. “I told Temperance the basics, but no one else. I’m not sure what to say to them.”

“Whatever is easiest for you. Anything or nothing. Hell, you don’t even have to wear the ring if it’s going to cause too many questions.”

I jerk my hand back and curl the other around it, as though Lachlan might try to take the ring from me. “I’m not taking it off.”

A satisfied smile crosses his face. “Good. Because I like seeing it on your finger.”

“You don’t have one, though. Although, I guess you probably wouldn’t wear one, would you?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Wouldn’t it raise too many questions?”

“No one questions me but you.” His smile only widens, and I give him a matching one.

“I’m not going to apologize for that.”

“I’ll never ask you to.”

My smile widens even further as I reach for the whiskey in front of me, lifting it between us.

“To us,” I say as he reaches for his own.

“To us,” he repeats.

“And to our empire,” I add, tearing my gaze away from his to look out at the sun sinking into the New Orleans skyline as the full moon rises.

“That I can definitely drink to.”

We touch rims before draining the glasses. When mine hits the table, I stare him dead in the eye.

“So, about that butt-plug thing . . . When exactly am I supposed to be ready for that?”

Another laugh reverberates through the restaurant, and I decide Lachlan Mount’s laughter is one of my very favorite sounds in the entire world.

“Soon, hellion. Soon.”

* * *

As we work our way through the feast in front of us, talking about anything and everything that comes to mind, hope for the future grows with every passing minute.

This is arguably the second time I’ve gotten married on an impulse, although I’d argue the circumstances were entirely different. But this one, I believe, is going to work.

Not just because it has the force of Lachlan Mount behind it, but because we both acknowledge the challenges facing us and are willing to take them on together.

He has offered his help to me in every possible way. His time. His talent. His fortune. Now all I need to do is get him to realize that he’s as in love with me as I am with him.

I cut two small pieces of cake and put them on the small extra plates Odile provided, then slide one across the table to Lachlan. “Do you know how this works?”

His brow furrows. “Cake? You eat it.”

I smile. “This isn’t just any cake.”

A look of understanding dawns on his features. “Ah, I see. Is this how you’re going to talk me into letting you stay and work longer, rather than letting me steal you away to some uninhabited beach?”

“No.” I tilt my head. “But how did you know I was planning on that?”

The smile on his face is almost as mesmerizing as his laugh. “Because you love this place, and you won’t leave until you’re sure everything is running perfectly.”

He sees me. Not just the outside I show him, but into the heart of me.

“Are you going to have a problem with that?”

He shakes his head. “I knew exactly who I was getting, and I’ve been fine with it from the beginning.”

“Then you had an advantage over me, because I had no idea.” I pause, trying to figure out exactly how to explain what I want to say, and Lachlan waits silently, almost expectantly. Probably for the worst. But that’s not at all what I’m thinking. “You’re the most complicated man I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but I continue.

“But not in a bad way, obviously.” I nod at the cake in front of me. “I wouldn’t have married you if I wasn’t already in love with you. And I think I started to fall in love with you when you finally let me see the real you. In Dublin. That’s where I finally got to know Lachlan, not Mount.”

“There isn’t one without the other.”

“I guess it’s a good thing then that I get both.” I stand and pick up my cake plate. “So, let’s make it official.”

He rises, holding his plate. “I thought we did that in front of a priest and a judge.”

“You’re such a man. It’s not official until there’s cake and dancing.” I meet him at the end of the table.

“Dancing?” he asks, one eyebrow raised.

“Definitely dancing.”

He nips my fingers as he snatches the piece of cake away, at the same time feeding me the slice from his plate. Odile’s chocolate whiskey cake with Irish cream frosting melts on my tongue.

“Damn, that’s good,” Lachlan says, and I agree.

“You can have more after the dancing.”

He steals the plate from my hand, and they both clatter as he returns them to the table. “There’s something that comes before the dancing.”

“What’s that?”

Lachlan pulls me into his arms. “I get to kiss the bride for as long as I want.”

My cheeks ache from smiling so hard. “I can handle that.”

His lips close over mine, and happiness bursts inside me.