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Eventually, her breathing evens out and she looks up at me with red-rimmed eyes.
“You’ve already done so much,” she rasps. “I don’t know how I could have survived these past weeks without you.”
Guilt grabs my throat, urging me to say something to ease her burden. I should tell her Jim Callahan is dead, but I can’t risk setting her free.
The waiter enters with the next course, but I raise a hand. “We’ll finish the meal in our suite. Tell the host to check us in.”
Moments later, one of the casino’s longest-serving officiants, Reverend Johnson, walks in wearing the uniform of a host. Sweat glistens on his forehead, and he fidgets with his collar.
“Good evening, sir and miss,” he says, his words stilted. “I understand you wish to retire to your suite?”
I don’t know what the consequences are of marrying a woman without her knowledge or consent, but the good reverend stands to have his gambling debts forgiven if he can pull off this wedding ceremony.
The last shreds of my morality pound at my heart. My conscience screams a warning not to take advantage of Emberly’s vulnerable moment to trick her into signing a marriage certificate. It wants me to think of the consequences, and the chances of earning her unending hatred.
But if I listened to my conscience, I would never have joined the fucking mafia. In fact, I would have made sure every member of my family and loyal friends was behind bars for crimes against the good people of New Alderney. Nobody ever got what they wanted out of life by playing nice, and I won’t let Emberly slip away from my fingers.
Determined to tie her to me forever, I brush that fucker aside. My obsession with Emberly has reached the point where the thought of her leaving tears a cavity in my chest.
I can’t let her go.
Not now.
Not ever.
“Mr. Montesano,” the reverend says, his voice unsteady. “Your suite at the Hotel Montesano is ready. All we need is your signature on the check in forms and we’ll escort you upstairs.”
He slides a clipboard on the table, with the details of the marriage certificate covered by hotel documentation.
Cupping Emberly’s cheeks, I gaze into her shimmering eyes. “You’re mine, Emberly Kay,” I say. “And I’ll take care of you until my dying breath. Do you understand me?”
She sniffles. “I do.”
“And I’m yours.” I place a soft kiss on her lips. “What did I just say?”
“Mine,” she says with a smile.
“That’s right, baby. Forever.”
Reverend Johnson clears his throat. “If you could just sign here, I will complete your check in.”
I sign the form and hand Emberly the pen. “Right here, baby.”
“But I’m still paying for tonight’s date,” she says.
“Anything you say.”
Holding my breath, I send out a prayer to every saint, sinner, and supernatural being that she’s too distracted to pull out the sheet of paper and realize she’s about to sign a marriage certificate.
I place a kiss on her cheek. “Come on, let’s go upstairs so I can eat you in the suite.”
She signs her name with a flourish, and both the officiant and I exhale relieved breaths.
Reverend Johnson snatches up the certificate. “Congratulations and welcome to the Hotel Montesano’s honeymoon suite. I hereby declare you checked in.”
Emberly wipes at her eyes, too absorbed to notice that the officiant just pronounced us man and wife.
FIFTY-THREE
