Page 61 of Unlock My Heart

Her face. So fucking beautiful it makes my chest ache.

I’m a man starved. My cock certainly agrees, but I stop myself from a quick tug. I’m getting to be with Sienna, and the fantasy will never come close to the reality.

I scramble from my top bunk, hammering out pushups on the concrete floor.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Sienna’s going to be my wife.

Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

God knows I don’t deserve her, but that’s not going to stop me.

Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.

“I would bitch at you, but hell, I’d be excited too, marrying that sweet piece⁠—”

I’m on my cellie in a flash, my forearm digging into his throat. “Never disrespect my wife again.”

“Alright, alright. Sorry.” Kirksey wheezes, and I release him.

“Inmate count,” the CO calls as the glaring lights are flipped on, and we go through the morning drill.

“Calvani, let’s go.” Another CO opens our cell.

“Enjoy the taste of freedom,” Kirksey calls after me.

My body buzzes with excitement as I follow the CO, ignoring the cheers and jeers from my fellow inmates. Through the various locked doors and pat-downs, my shackles are removed, and I enter the warden’s office.

Saint rises, while the warden keeps his seat. I ignore the disrespect, only because I want out of here.

“Need I remind your client that I’m doing him a huge favor granting this furlong,” the warden addresses my attorney.

Need I remind the warden that I paid for this favor, but I bite my tongue. A hundred grand for 1440 minutes. Worth every penny.

“Understood,” Saint says, filling out some sort of bullshit form before we’re escorted to another bullshit room. I change out of my inmate scrubs into a gray sweatsuit, feeling almost human.

After another search and the return of my personal effects, I walk out with Saint.

The warmth of the sun hits my face, and I look up, savoring the moment. “Let’s go get my girl.”

Sienna

The present

My hands tremble as I pull out the last of the hot rollers, finger-combing my soft curls.

It’s not like this is my first wedding; I know the drill. But if I’m being honest, it’s not the wedding ritual that has my stomach twisted into a pretzel.

I carefully lift the funeral veil and place it over my head. My little form of resistance. I’m marrying Fabien, but I’ll do it kicking and screaming.

The soon-to-be Mrs. Sienna Calvani.

Once upon a time, a naive girl dreamed of this day. What a fool she was.

Sienna

Eighteen-years-old