She had no right to offer anything of mine. I wanted them off this island, not to exchange pleasantries.

My rib twinged, letting a hug of pain fill my chest. God, I’m tired.

Fuckwit grinned. “I asked Bianca to marry me two weeks ago. I know it’s really fast—but sometimes you just know, yeah?”

Tess softened, glancing at me. My anger petered out, replaced with vengeful lust. My c**k sprang to attention dragging me under her control again. Damn woman and her magic. “I totally agree. Time means nothing when you know.”

I swallowed, trying so f**king hard to keep the sexual need from my eyes. Forgetting about Fuckwit—he was nothing to me—I murmured to Tess, “Sometimes all it takes is a look.”

Tess’s lips parted and the strain of the past few minutes didn’t mean a thing. The desire between us was all-consuming and I was done with this place.

Narrowing my gaze, I murmured, “Time to stop playing with the guests. You’re coming with me.”

Tess blushed. “That would be rude. We can’t just—”

“Yes. We. Can. Now, Tess. S'il vous plait.” She wasn’t being fair. I was the injured one. I was the one in need of TLC. These guests could f**king wait until I’d had my wife beneath me, on top of me, tied up, and ravished. “You don’t want me to ask again. You won’t like what I’ll do.”

Suzette broke the thick tension. “You can’t go. Not yet. I’ve got a small reception planned next door.”

I couldn’t think of anything worse.

I was married. I wanted all these people gone. I wanted to be alone with the one person who truly understood me. I wanted my wife.

“No. Suzette. Rearrange it. Tomorrow, I don’t care.”

“I’m sorry, Suzette.” Tess shrugged. “Q really should get some rest.”

I grumbled in my chest. I hated she thought I was hurt. I wanted a bed, yes, but I wasn’t planning on f**king moaning about my injuries and going to sleep.

Did she not sense everything I was transmitting to her? Did she not understand that I could suffer two broken legs and still need to be inside her?

Fine. If it made our escape faster I would play the poor patient angle. “You know. I am feeling a little tired—I need to be in bed with my wife.”

Tess threw me a look while Fuckwit sucked in a gasp.

My eyes tightened, taking in his innocence—his pompous timidness. This boy had nothing on me. I could blow him f**king over and defeat him. What did Tess ever see in him?

Frederick suddenly threw an arm around my shoulders, eyeing up Brax. Shoving his traitorous hand out, he smiled. “Hi. Nice to meet you. I’m Frederick Roux. Business partner to this sour groom.”

Fuckwit half-smiled, taking the offered handshake. “Nice to meet you. I’ve researched your company. Congrats on all your success.”

Frederick laughed, letting go to nudge me. My teeth clamped together at being manhandled, especially because it highlighted just how much I did need to lie down. Fuck, I hurt.

“Nope, not my company. All this guy’s. He’s the mastermind.” Slapping me on the back—making me groan—he added, “Congrats, Mercer, Tess. So happy for you both.”

Tess beamed, running fingers through her hair. “Thank you for everything you did for us, Frederick. Rome, and Lynx…well you know—”

My stomach lurched, thinking how close I’d come to losing her. My fingers found the tracker under my skin. It would have to be removed. The Taser Lynx used had short-circuited it, but at least it’d done what I needed.

I’d held on and proved the point I set out to make. It cost a lot more than money but it brought shitloads of protection.

Fuckwit watched us, his forehead furrowed. “Did something happen?” His eyes narrowed. “Is that what happened the past few days? You look like you’ve been in a pretty serious fight.” His gaze flickered to Tess. “You’re not in any danger again—are you, Tessie?”

I coughed.

A swirling tornado of anger ripped me apart.

“Tessie?” My voice was whip-thin and blade-sharp. My body was still sore, the pain eroding no end of painkillers, but all I wanted was a fight. I wanted to hurtle this ass**le away from Seychelles. Away from my wife. Away from any claim he thought he had on my woman.

“Never call her that.”

Tess pressed her warm form against mine. “Q—don’t. Brax calls me Tessie. It’s a nickname that’s completely innocent.” Turning to Brax, she finished, “And no, I’m not in any danger. Not anymore. Thanks to Q.”

“But you will be if you call her that again,” I snapped.

My fists ached to ram into his jaw.

The celebrant arrived, smiling—completely oblivious to the standoff between us. “I have the paperwork that requires signing. Please choose your two witnesses and come with me.”

“Perfect timing,” Roux mumbled, throwing me a look. “Come on, Mercer. I’ll witness another one of your documents.” He followed the celebrant.

Tess let me go, grabbing onto Suzette. “Would you do the honour? Please.”

Suzette’s eyes watered. She looked from me to Tess, holding her heart. “I’d love to.”

Great. Fucking fantastic. Yet more time stopping me from getting my wife naked. The second this was over. I was gone. With or without Tess. Who was I kidding? I would never leave her—especially with Fuckwit here.

The three of us trailed after Frederick, leaving Twerp and his little girlfriend. The celebrant had set up a station with a small table, leather binder, and pens. A crisp piece of paper rested on top.

I sighed.

This whole mingling after the wedding bullshit was fraying my nerves. I didn’t know if it was the pain making me cranky or the fact Tess’s past was trespassing on my future. I just wanted to leave.

Soon. Sign then I was free.

The top of the paper held an intricate flourish with the words:

This is to certify Quincy Mercer II descended from Quincy Mercer I and Veronica Fable married Tess Olivia Snow descended from Stephen Snow and Mary Carlton, both sound of mind and able body, in holy matrimony before the witnesses of…

“You sign here, Mr. Mercer.” The celebrant pointed to a column stated ‘groom’.

Taking the pen, I printed my name, then signed. The simple act of holding the pen aggravated the muscles in my arm from Lynx’s bad batting skills.