Can’t let her suffer.The thought crystalizes and occupies the center of my mind, spreads to my heart with firm conviction.
The impersonator ends “Love Is Here to Stay” and starts singing “Fly Me to the Moon.”Oh, hell no.If he finishes this song, we’re flying straight to the asylum.
Grimly, I put an arm under Lareina’s knees and pick her up. She gasps and wraps her arms around my neck tightly. Her warm weight feels so good, reminds me I’m holding a real, flesh-and-blood woman, not some figment of drug-induced hallucination. She smells faintly of lemon and something else, sweet but not saccharine. I practically run to the altar just to end the song.
When we come to a halt a foot away from the singer, he stops. “Hello,” he says with a grin.
“Hey.”
His grin widens, and his chest expands. If he tries to go back to singing, I’m going to nut-kick him so he’ll have something to screech about for real.
Perhaps he senses imminent danger to his family jewels, because he doesn’t try to finish the song. “I’m so glad you could join us. Every couple deserves a Sinatra moment.”
“Yeah, and fuck the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.”
He wags a finger. “No fucking anything that isn’t your bride here. We run a wholesome establishment.” Faux Sinatra peersinto my eyes for a second. “Jesus, what did you snort? You’re higher than the Hubble, aren’t you?”
Ha!A high would at least feel good. And less dangerous than whatever Harvey gave me. “Not high,” I shoot back.
“Can you make it quick?” Lareina says, sounding anxious.
“You not going to put your bride down?” Sinatra asks.
I frown. I like the feel of her way too much. “Do I have to?”
“Uh…” A shrug. “I guess not. Since you want it quick, give me your license?”
She reaches into my jacket pocket and hands it to him. “Are you legally able to do this?”
“Of course!” He puffs his chest out. “I’m a properly licensed and vetted officiant, and proud of it, too!”
“Proud of your singing, too,” I mutter under my breath. Or at least I thought I did, but I must’ve spoken too loudly, because he hears me.
“Damn right. Everyone does Elvis here. Super boring.”
Thank God he didn’t go for Elvis. It would’ve been unbearable.
Sinatra looks at me. “Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and not so good times, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself unto her for as long as you both shall live?”
I open my mouth. “I—”Oh shit. Prenup!
No wonder I’ve been feeling off. I’m worth over two billion, thanks to the huge trust my grandmother on my stepmother’s side left me. Marrying without one would be stupid.
“Wait!” Lareina says suddenly. “I forgot the prenup!”
Wait, what?“What?”
“I should be protected, don’t you think?”
Most people don’t think about one. I doubt her inheritance is bigger than what my zaibatsu grandmother left me. “I’m worth about two billion,” I say, trying to play it safe—I haven’t checkedmy accounts in a while. But the amount should be pretty close, plus or minus a few million.
She looks at me like I’m joking. Sinatra rolls his eyes with a loud snort.
“Very funny,” he says. “Like billionaires get married here. And like they dress likethat. Besides, if you’re smart, you would’ve done the paperwork before, not now.”
“Are you calling me stupid?” I scowl.
“Course not.” His arched look says,Yes. “And the prenup? What do you think I am? A lawyer? That’s way above my pay grade!”
