Kids raised in rich homes are less likely than their peers to be emotionally intelligent, among other things.
Why 70 percent of new relationships fail within the first year.
It had been almost fifteen minutes when Marlowe reappeared, Rowan by his side before the two of them split ways.
Sario watched as Marlowe, as prickly and antisocial as he was, approached some of the guests waving him over and actually began a conversation with them.
Rowan came over to where Sario and Darius were standing and got up onto his tiptoes to whisper something into Darius' ear that had Darius casting a very worried look at Marlowe.
"What?" Sario was immediately concerned with whatever his brother-in-law had said. "What's going on?"
Rowan and Darius glanced at each other for a moment before Darius made a go-ahead motion and said, "I think you should tell him."
Rowan pulled Sario in closer. "Marlowe and I were talking in the bathroom before coming back out here."
"And?" Sario questioned, confused as to why that would be a problem. "He went to the bathroom. You went to the bathroom. You guys know each other at least a little bit. Why wouldn't you talk?"
Rowan gave him a shut-up look. "You're talking too much. Would you just listen?"
Sario held up his hands in surrender. "Listening very attentively."
Rowan sighed, looking in Marlowe's direction again. "When I came in, he wasn't…relieving himself. He was throwing up."
Sario's eyes shot over to where his husband stood enduring a conversation with one of the Holt cousins. After confirming that Marlowe was in fact still standing, Sario looked back at Rowan. "Okay…"
Rowan glared. "That's not normal, Sario. People might throw up before getting married cause they're nervous. Hell, I almost did."
"You were pregnant," Sario countered. "You had an excuse."
"My point," Rowan replied, resting one hand on the very generous swell of his stomach. He was almost full term now, and he looked ready to pop at any given moment. "We're at the reception, Sario. There should be no reason for him to be so nervous that he feels the need to throw up. And if that's not enough for you, he was downright terrified when I saw him. If he was an omega, his fear pheromones would have been enough to send every omega within a ten-mile radius running for their lives." That was right. Rowan did not know Marlowe's secret. "But it was all over his face and his body language was screaming it. I think he would have given the old Rowan a good run for his money."
"Meaning," Darius inserted, "you need to keep an eye on him, make sure he's alright. Don't hover. He'll kick you in the dick if you try that. Just…be present and watch to make sure he's okay."
Sario nodded, gaze drifting back over to Marlowe. His rage flared when he saw his cousin's hand around Marlowe's corseted waist, but a wave of satisfaction washed over him when Marlowe deliberately removed the hand with a very obviously sharp barb. "I think he can take care of himself."
"He doesn't give a fuck about his own health, though," Darius retortecd. "Remember?"
Sario nodded, his breath catching in his throat. Yes, he remembered. Maybe a little too well. The memories still haunted him if he thought about them for too long.
"I'll go hang out with him," Rowan said, his hand slipping from Darius' as he crossed the room to stand beside Marlowe and deal with any more pesky relatives.
To Sario's surprise, it actually looked like Marlowe relaxed ever so slightly in Rowan's presence. It made some sense, though. Sario had often observed that omegas unconsciously sought each other out since they felt safest in each other's company.
As the hours passed and the reception slowly devolved into a drunken party as all events with the extended Holt family did, Sario kept his eyes on Marlowe. He saw Marlowe's quiet suffering, but his new husband did not complain once. Finally, Sario decided to pull the plug. He could not stand another minute of a distant cousin gaping at Marlowe's practically non-existent waist while Marlowe endured it in polite silence. He came up beside Marlowe and took his arm. "Let's go."
Marlowe glanced up at him, obviously worried about their public reputation, but he could not hide the way his body was begging for relief from the torture that was this reception. "Are you sure? Can we just…walk out like that?"
"I'm a Holt," Sario replied. "And now, so are you. We can do whatever we want and people will gasp like it's a new trend."
Marlowe smiled faintly, like he liked that Sario was remembering that his backbone existed. "Okay. Let's go."
They left through the back, only drawing the attention of a few people who passed them in the hall. The Uber ride to the hotel they had booked for the next couple of days was silent in the peaceful way, like they were acclimating to each other and respecting the quiet after the noise they had just escaped. It was only when they were shut in the suite together, alone for the first time since the contract proposal, that the silence changed.
Marlowe stopped near the entrance, his hand slipping from Sario's arm. Every tight line across his bare shoulders betrayed how transfixed by fear he was.
Sario turned around to face him and reached out to take his hand.
Marlowe jerked back before their skin even made contact.
Sario bit his lip and tried again. "You know this isn't all about our contract. Because we're a public couple, people will notice if things are off between us."
Marlowe's chest rose and fell as he took the deepest breath he could in that deadly corset. "Do whatever you have to do to me to make it believable," he whispered, his voice holding the words up like a surrender. "I won't fight you."
"You just did," Sario pointed out gently. "I tried to take your hand and you pulled away like I was fire."
Marlowe's eyes fixed on Sario's hand. "I'm sorry." The apology was small, desperate, like he was scared of Sario hurting him. "I won't do it again."
Sario quietly reached out and took Marlowe's hand. There was no resistance this time. "If we're not in public, you can fight me as much as you want. Just not tonight. Tonight we have to keep up appearances for the public."
Marlowe's breath hitched as Sario pulled him in and slid his hands around to his back.
"First things first, let's get this corset off so you can breathe again." Sario started untying the laces, pulling on them to loosen the constricting garment.
"It's not that bad," Marlowe said, his body involuntarily flinching away from Sario with every pull of the laces. "I can breathe in it."
"That's not the point," Sario replied. "The point is that I'm taking this off." He finally got it loose enough that he could pull it over Marlowe's head. He dumped it on one of the couches and smoothed his hands down the sides of the sweat-soaked silk shirt Marlowe wore beneath it. "Better?"
Marlowe was shivering. "I'm cold now."
Sario smiled. "Sweat does tend to do that. That's its job, after all."
Marlowe gave him a look, the look that meant I'm very, super annoyed with you. "Did you learn that in college?"
Sario frowned, a bit confused. "What do you mean? That's, like, common knowledge." After a horrible moment of silence, he added tentatively, "Isn't it?"
Marlowe rolled his eyes. "Damn, you really are naive." At least they were back to this comfortable back and forth that formed pretty much their entire relationship. Or had. Now they had a new title to replace annoying person that I won't admit is my friend: husband.
"I mean, I'm not even 21, so there's still lots of time for me to learn things," Sario said with a smile he hoped was pacifying.
Marlowe brought his free hand up to his face with a groan. "Don't remind me about the age gap."
Sario tipped his head. "What? Are you like 40 or something? Cause you look good if you're that old."
Marlowe glared through his fingers, his eyes icy. "I'm 29!"
Sario laughed, finding the whole thing amusing and rather adorable. "We're not even a decade apart, Luca. I'd hardly call that an age gap."
Marlowe froze, but from shock this time instead of anger. "What did you just call me?"
Oops. The nickname, drawn from Marlowe's middle name, had just slipped past his lips. Sario had not thought of Marlowe by his last name or even his first name since signing the contract. He had seen Marlowe's middle name and instantly fallen in love with the idea of calling his husband Luca. It was cute, at least to Sario. "Luca," Sario replied. "I took the 's' off your middle name. I think it's nice. But I'll stop if you don't like it." He was not going to risk angering Marlowe, not when they had to get very close tonight.
Marlowe's lips moved soundlessly as he turned the name over in his mouth. Finally, he shrugged. "It's whatever. I mean, you need something to call me that will make half the city faint from our romantics, right?" He was justifying it, which meant that he probably liked the nickname. A lot.
"Or during sex," Sario supplied helpfully.
Marlowe—no, he was going to call him Luca from now on—stared at Sario like he had been replaced by an alien.
"Come on," Sario teased, trying to lighten the mood, "don't tell me you're naive enough to not know what couples do on their wedding night."
Luca opened his mouth and then shut it when no sound came out. He was pale, though Sario was not sure if it was just the lighting. "I'm not stupid," he finally replied, his tone bland. "I know what's supposed to happen. I—" He seemed to struggle to find his next words. "I just didn't think you'd be so fucking blunt about it."
Sario let that sit for a moment.
The moment was long enough that Luca started fidgeting and looking everywhere in the room except at Sario.
Sario braced Luca's face between his hands and turned it so they were looking at each other again. "We have to. When we go out in public again, people will expect to see a mark. If we're in love as they think we are, a lack of a visible claim will make them doubt our story. Right now, we're the picture of 21st century romance. We can't destroy that image, or you can kiss goodbye to the protection you thought you were getting out of this marriage."
Luca's shivering abruptly ceased, and he tipped his chin up. He had turned off something inside. "Then you'd better make it as visible as possible."
"Luca…?" Sario was not quite sure what Luca meant.
"Fuck me. Fuck me up. Give them the claiming mark and hickeys and bruises and anything else they could possibly thirst for."
Sario blinked, stunned at the change of tone. "My god."
Luca scowled. "What? You're the one who wanted to put on a performance. I'm matching your fucking freak." His hand came up to squeeze Sario's throat. "And if you don't do a good enough job and this falls through, I will murder you in the most painful way possible."
"I'm starting to think I'm the one that needs protection," Sario muttered.
"Are you going to do it?" Luca demanded. "Because if not, your twink ass will sleep on the couch."
Sario slid his hands up to Luca's sharp shoulder blades. "I'm not sleeping on the couch." One hand came up to brace the back of Luca's head as he dipped to kiss his husband for only the second time.
They had refused to kiss at the reception, much to the dismay of the hornier guests. But Luca had seemed like he might die if they kissed in public again, and Sario had known that he would be unable to stop with a kiss.
Sario felt his soul ascend as Luca kissed him back, opening his lips and tilting his head to make it easier for Sario. He forgot how he got them into the bedroom, but the next thing he remembered, he was pushing Luca down onto the king-sized mattress. His fingers pushed the buttons of Luca's shirt through the holes and had to force himself to breathe when Luca reached up and did the same to his shirt.
Shirtless Luca was somehow more enthralling than the Luca who had walked down the aisle and nearly given Sario a heart attack with his beauty. He was perfect, even with the old scars slicing across his abdomen. Someone had beaten him in the past. Badly enough to leave those scars. Luca's eyes followed Sario's gaze. "Yeah, sorry sweetheart. You're not the first person to have me naked."
Sario tipped Luca's chin up with a careful, but strong finger. "I don't mind. I know you did a lot of things to survive. I'm not going to slut shame you, if that's what you're scared of."
One corner of Luca's mouth lifted in a slight smirk. "Prove it, tough boy." He yanked Sario down into another nerve-decimating kiss.
Sario's mind went into overload, and they had only just gotten their clothes off. He was not going to last more than thirty seconds, and that was if he was lucky.
And Luca was not helping. He let Sario push him around or pull him up, but he was actively egging Sario on instead of playing the limp doll Sario had feared after their conversation. His participation was making Sario doubt how long his luck would last. When Sario grabbed his hip and flipped him onto his stomach, he actually laughed a little bit.
For no reason at all, that turned Sario on even more. He plunged his fingers into the tight heat of Luca's body and fought down the urge to shove himself in immediately when Luca responded with the dirtiest moan Sario had heard outside of porn. The tips of his fingers found a bundle of nerves that made Luca mewl like an angry kitten. That was it. He yanked his fingers out and pulled their hips flush with his first deep thrust.
Luca's hands found the headboard and clawed at it as he whimpered and cursed under his breath, the string of words creative enough to make Sario smile.
Sario lost track of the order of events until his teeth were sinking into the back of Luca's neck. The muted taste of cinnamon and honey spread out over his tongue. Luca's pheromonal scent, the one he kept hidden with suppressants, leaked out into the room. Sario watched with satisfaction as an orange blossom bloomed like a delicate tattoo on the nape of Luca's neck. The mark of his pheromones, the evidence of his claim, was there for everyone to see now.
Luca's shaking body beneath him snapped him back to the present. He had not even realized that they had finished during the marking process. He sank down onto his side, pulling Luca with him. He pressed a soft kiss to the white flower in Luca's skin. "Are we allowed to sleep now?"
Luca did not move except to pull one of the extra pillows close like a stuffed animal. "Yeah." His voice sounded strange, but Sario was not going to push it. Today had been hard for both of them. They both deserved some rest before dealing with whatever crazy shit the world would throw at them next.