Luca Steele
Nova Kingsley was an ass. Hard-headed. Loud-mouthed. Sassy. Bossy as hell. Call it what you want—she was a lot.
But she was also… a beautiful ass.
Not in the poetic, dainty sort of way. No, she was striking. Gorgeous. Head-turning. Long dark hair, almond-shaped eyes that looked like they could burn holes through your soul. Full lips. Curves in all the right places. Her confidence practically slapped you in the face when she walked into a room.
She didn’t look like her father, thank God. So, she must’ve taken after her mother—whom I’d learned died when Nova was still young. That softened something in me, but only for a second.
She disappeared for years. No one said where she went.
I asked once.
Jonathan dodged. Her father changed the subject. Everyone got weird about it. So I stopped asking.
Who cared, anyway? She was here now. And we were about to be married.
The merge was important. That’s all that mattered. This was just a business transaction.
Jonathan walked into the room with a smug look. “Need help with your tie, Mr. Steele?”
I looked at him through the mirror. “I’m not twelve.”
“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug. “The car is waiting.”
I followed him out, walking through the marble hallway of the private villa Carter booked for the court ceremony. No guests. No celebration. Just cold paperwork and a promise made decades ago between two dead men.
I slid into the backseat of the car. The air was cold. My fingers tapped impatiently on my knee.
The door opened.
She stepped out of the house like a scene from a movie.
Nova Kingsley in a white lace bodycon dress, hugging every curve like it had been stitched just for her. The dress had long sheer sleeves with tiny pearls embroidered down to her wrists, and the neckline dipped just enough to make me lose track of my thoughts. Her hair was down in soft waves, and her makeup? Flawless.
She looked… radiant.
She slid into the car beside me, her perfume a soft mix of vanilla and jasmine. Her eyes met mine with that signature side-eye.
I raised a brow. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Trying to figure out if I should sit closer to the door or if jumping out at 60 mph would kill me instantly,” she muttered, crossing her arms.
I smirked. “I was going to compliment your dress, but you know what? Never mind.”
She glanced at me. “I didn’t wear this for you, Luca. I wore it for the photos I’ll probably burn later.”
I leaned back. “Remind me again why we’re doing this?”
She turned to me fully now. “Because your father signed a document before he died. Because my father’s sick. Because apparently, business matters more than either of our happiness.”
“Right,” I said dryly. “Just business.”
“Just business,” she echoed, voice flat.
Silence followed. But not the peaceful kind. More like the kind where you’re one sarcastic remark away from launching a full verbal war.
And yet… there was something in her tone. In mine too. A sliver of sarcasm masking something else. Something neither of us wanted to admit.
The car pulled up to the courthouse. We stepped out. My jaw tight, hers clenched. My tie perfectly straight. Her heels clicking against the marble floor like the executioner’s drumroll.
Inside, Carter was already waiting, grinning like this was the wedding of the century. Jonathan stood by the judge, hands folded, trying not to look bored.
The ceremony was… quick.
Efficient. Lifeless.
We stood side by side in front of the judge, repeating words I didn’t feel. Vows I didn’t write. Promises I didn’t believe in. Nova didn’t look at me once during the whole thing. Her voice didn’t shake. Her hand didn’t tremble. She was calm, composed… untouchable.
“And now…” the judge said, closing the book. “You may kiss the bride.”
I stiffened. So did she.
Our eyes locked for half a second. Just long enough to share the same oh hell no expression.
But we leaned in anyway.
I kissed her.
Quick. Dry. Just long enough for it to count.
As I pulled away, she leaned in close, wrapping her arms around my shoulders like a perfect bride hugging her perfect husband.
She rested her head briefly against my chest and whispered—
“We may be married now, Mr. Steele… but if you so much as breathe too loud near me, I swear to God I’ll shove that wedding ring down your throat.”
I blinked.
She pulled back with a sweet smile and waved at the judge like nothing happened.
30
