The Rhode Mansion is huge, and looks glorious with two wings hugging a courtyard and a tall fountain standing in the center. Freshly trimmed, round rose bushes edge the limestone walls. Are those little white things butterflies? I need a second to take in all the beauties while Nate helps me get out of the car and grabs our bags from the trunk.

"How's your ankle? Do you want me to carry you?" he asks, staring at my high heels.

I smile and get into his arm. The pain is still there, but it's manageable. "Maybe later," I say suggestively.

Nate's eyes start glowing with mischief as his lips pull into his signature crooked smile. He throws our bags over his shoulder and walks me in through the golden doors.

Wow. I thought places like these existed in fairy tales. The entrance hall is basically a museum! Large pastoral paintings are lined up against the wall with nude statues standing in between each of them. In the center, a massive arrangement of pink roses spill from an antique vase on a round table. My breath hitches when I look up at the ceiling, which is not a ceiling...but a glass dome where a golden chandelier hangs in all it's greatness, reminding us of how small we are. My grip on Nate's hand tightens.

Our footsteps click on the checkered floor as we near a staircase that curls up to the first floor.

"Did you spend your summers here?" I ask, following Nate up the stairs. "Should I start calling you your highness?"

Nate laughs, his cheeks slightly blushing.

"Or do you prefer your majesty?" I ask. Two maids rush past us, carrying bedsheets upstairs. "How about my lord?"

Nate shuffles his hair and grins at me over his shoulder. I can't believe he's blushing so much. It's easy to imagine Roman living here with his royal attitude, but Nate? He is too humble for all this glam. How can two brothers be so different?

"Call me something sexy. How about love? My Sex God works too." He winks at me over his shoulder and makes me laugh. "This way. We are staying in my childhood bedroom."

We turn right and pass through a narrow corridor. "All bedrooms," Nate remarks, pointing at the doors. "Some of the elderly guests and close friends are staying here tonight."

I can't help but wonder where the bride—

"The bride and the groom will leave for honeymoon before midnight," Nate answers the question in my head. "You don't have to—"

"I'm not worrying." I squeeze his hand. But I won't lie; I'm glad I won't be staying under the same roof as Roman tonight, especially after what happened at the church.

What would I do if Roman made his way to me after the ceremony? Slap him across the face? Run away with him? Kiss him then spit on his shoe? Faint? Freeze? Yeah, I'd probably freeze... The entire experience gives me chills. I don't want to think.

Nate opens a door when we reach the end of the wing, and steps into our bedroom. A majestic forest view greets us through the windows. An old, double bed is taking over the left corner with a toy chest resting by its footside. A children's desk edges the opposite wall, and the door next to it must be the bathroom. The posters of once famous rock bands that hang here and there make me smile.

"The bed is short and squeaky, but we don't have to sleep," Nate suggests as I throw myself on the mattress—and he isn't lying; the bed is squeaky as hell.

"No sex tonight," I say, jumping up and down. I bet everyone would hear our rhythmic thumps and moans if we tried. Nope. I'm not even touching him when the metal bed frame wails like that.

"Come on! I thought I was your sex god!" Nate smirks, dropping our bags by the door, then disappears into the bathroom. "I'll see you after a couple of drinks," he sings teasingly.

I chuckle and cover my face with a pillow. Yeah, I'll probably jump him before the night is over.

While Nate is taking a shower, I slip out of my sweaty church dress and get ready for the evening. I'm wearing a blush, silk dress that hugs my waist and flows to the ground. Its V-neckline reveals just enough skin to pique Nate's interest. He'll probably stare at my nipples all night—they are somewhat visible through the fabric. At least, this way, Nate will have something else to focus on instead of fixating on Roman.

I tuck the loose strands of my hair into my bun, shape my bangs with a blow dry, and freshen my lipstick. Nate's whistle makes me glance at him over my shoulder. He is out of the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe with a towel wrapped around his waist, undressing me with his eyes. I laugh when his gaze lingers on my nipples.

Once he is in a tux, I adjust his bowtie and gel back his hair. He looks perfect.

"You look perfect," he says, then pecks the tip of my nose with a subtle smile.

The noises from downstairs are getting louder. Most of the guests must already be here.

Nate lifts a brow in question.

"Ready when you are," I reply.

He takes my hand and guides me out of the room.