Page 49
“I do.”
Goosebumps prickled my skin at his instant answer.
“Charlotte Astor, do you take Jacob Du Pont to be your husband?”
I opened my mouth to reply, only for a little voice to whisper in my ear, telling me not to answer. Telling me that I was about to make a huge mistake, and nothing would be the same ever again.
“Angel?” Jacob said, his head tilting to the side.
I met his gaze, his intense eyes peering into mine. A montage of images flashed in my head. The note telling me he’d picked out my clothes, us arguing in his office as he refused to let me go to college. Over his knee being spanked, waking up in the cell, forcing myself to eat grits and pea soup to please him.
But as I stared back at him, those memories were doused by others. Him telling me he wanted to take care of me. Gifting me an art studio to make me happy, reading my favorite books to keep me company. His soothing voice chasing all my fears away.
I shook my head, ridding myself of the memories. I wanted this. It didn’t matter what had happened in the past; Jacob was the only future I wanted.
“I do,” I said, ignoring the slight churn in my stomach.
Jacob’s features relaxed, his eyes squeezing closed for a moment. When they opened again, they blazed with something indecipherable.
“Excellent,” Giuseppe said. “If we could finalize the paperwork.” He moved to a table behind him where several sheets of paper and a pen waited. Jacob clutched my hand, guiding us over. “Mr. Du Pont, if I can get you to sign here.”
Jacob took the pen and scrawled his signature on a line before handing the pen to me. “Sign your name, angel.”
Doing as instructed, I took the pen, but my hand paused over the first sheet of paper where my name had been printed. I scanned over the words, but nothing made sense. Whatever was written was in another language, and at the top of the page was the same image as Giuseppe’s lapel pin.
“Is this Italian?” I asked, glancing up at Jacob.
A muscle twitched in his jaw, but he quickly relaxed his features. “Yes, angel. Our marriage will be registered in Vatican City.”
“Oh,” I replied feebly. “Why?”
“Does it matter?” he replied, quirking a brow.
I glanced down at the paper, an ominous feeling growing in the pit of my stomach. Jacob’s words from moments ago rang in my ears. ‘You’re already perfect.’
The last thing I wanted was to disappoint him and give him a reason to leave me again. Did it matter where our marriage was registered so long as we were married?
“No, of course not,” I replied, signing my name before I could think better of it.
The ink on my last signature wasn’t even dry when Giuseppe snatched the papers away, handing them to Wallace, who added his signature.
I gave Jacob a quizzical look. “We needed a witness to confirm our marriage, angel,” Jacob explained, his eyes still firmly fixed on me.
When Wallace finished signing, Giuseppe took the papers, rolled them up, and placed them in the inside pocket of his jacket. “The rings?”
Jacob reached into his pocket. Taking my hand, he slid a beautiful diamond band onto my ring finger. “Promise me you’ll never take this off, angel?”
I stared at the ring for several beats, the diamonds glistening under the afternoon sun. A strange feeling worked its way through me, one made of happiness and belonging, but mixed in were the undertones of possession and ownership.
My gaze lifted to Jacob, and seeing the hope in his eyes, words tumbled from my mouth. “I promise.”
He slid the ring on my finger with a triumphant grin on his face. Ignoring the onset of anxiety building in my bones, Jacob handed me a thick silver band and held his hand out for me to slide it on his finger. Once it was in place, he turned us to Giuseppe.
Giuseppe cleared his throat. “It is my honor to now pronounce you husband and wife. Mr. Du Pont, you may kiss your wife.”
Kiss.
My heart galloped with anticipation. How long had I waited for Jacob to kiss me? It felt like a lifetime, and desperation thrummed through me at needing his mouth on mine.
