Page 126 of The Dearly Departed

"Fuck," I muttered, sighing heavily and turning away from the sidewalk, where the brunt of the foot traffic came from.

I looked out toward the water, shimmering beneath the rays of morning light. There were only a few boats out today, but I expected more would get out soon. It truly was a beautiful day, if sunshine and warmth were your preferred choice of weather.

The perfect day to get married.

I hung my head at the thought.

She'd be getting ready now, putting on her dress for a marriage she didn't want or deserve. It was primitive and abhorrent for a woman today to be forced to marry a man she didn't want or love. A man who forced himself upon her in ways that should've sent him to prison. It left me filled with guilt and despair, knowing I should do something about it, knowing I should save her, knowing I could.

But how the hell was I supposed to do that without blowing everything else apart?

Of course, I could leave an anonymous tip with the cops and turn Benjamin in … but it wasn't the police I was afraid of.

Gerald knows I'm trapped. Gerald knows I can't do shit about any of this.

That's why he showed me those pictures. To torment me, to leave me even more cornered. He’s using her against me. Finding every weakness I have to make my life even more of a living hell.

It was more than just control.

It was something else … but why?

Does Virginia know about this too?

"Doctor.”

Her voice rang pure above the sounds of the shoreline, and my head hung lower as I closed my eyes, breathing in the sea air.

“You came,” she added, and I heard her footsteps against the gazebo floorboards.

"Fucking hell, Princess," I muttered, shaking my head. "You know you shouldn’t be here."

"I needed to see you," she argued.

"You are going to get us both into such deep shit—do you understand that?"

"They don't know I'm here," she assured me, walking closer beneath the cover of the gazebo until I could feel the heat from her skin radiating through the layers of my suit.

"Yes, they fucking do," I argued, a hint of desperation in my tone. "They always do."

"No, it's okay. They think I'm getting a last-minute alteration done. We have at least twenty minutes before anyone knows I'm gone, and I'll leave here before then. I just had to see you."

I rolled my eyes. "Dammit, Analise. Are you—"

Then I turned to look at her, to argue further, but the words were stolen from my tongue as I took in the sight of her in a pristine white gown fit for the highest of royalty.

Her dark hair was swept off her neck and tied back into some complicated-looking nest of curls at the top of her head, and that nest was encircled with a diamond tiara, holding the veil that cascaded down her neck and back.

She was the image of perfection, the definition of beauty and goodness, sitting upon an empire of evil, and as I stood before her, a figure donned all in black, I couldn't help but remind myself of the irony.

But even Hell needs Heaven in order to exist, I thought while knowing there wasn't a place in this world where an angel belonged with a devil like me.

Still … it was nice to imagine that, maybe in another life, she could've worn this dress for me at our wedding.

"Wow," I finally uttered, stupefied and breathless in her presence.

"Do you like it?" she asked with her cheeks flushed red, looking down at the intricately woven lace covering the bodice of her dress and the crystal-adorned necklace that followed the curve of her chest.

"Who cares if I like it?”