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“Our marriage certificate.”
“We didn’t marry,” I whisper.
“We did. Alberto married us, remember?”
I shake my head back and forth. “No. No, he practiced. It wasn’t real.”
Anton laughs. It rings out against the otherwise silent room. “How stupid are you going to sound if you tell people that story?”
I look over my shoulder at the messy sheets. “And that was . . .” I trail off.
“That was us consummating our marriage,” he confirms.
I feel sick and faint. I drop the certificate, and it floats slowly to the ground like it’s mocking me. “You’re lying,” I mutter. “Please tell me you’re lying.”
“I’ll ask someone to bring you some tea. It’s good for shock.”
“I don’t want your fucking tea,” I hiss, sweeping down to grab the paper before screwing it into a ball. “Why would you do that?”
“I told you, I wanted to make you mine. While we’re discussing the news, I should tell you that you missed your birth control shot.”
“No, I didn’t,” I say. “They always text me when it’s due. I haven’t had a text.” He winces again, and it dawns on me that my text has been intercepted. Tears well in my eyes. The air feels thick, and I gasp to try and suck it into my lungs. Anton moves towards me with concern on his face, but I hold my arm up to stop him.
“I think you’re having a panic attack,” he says. “Let me help you.”
I shake my head. “Stay the hell away from me.” I drop to my knees to collect my shirt from the floor, then I clumsily pull it on before pushing to stand and heading for the door. He tries to grab my hand, but I shrug him away, too angry to find words. I head for the spare room across the landing.
Once inside, I lock the door and lean against it. I slam my hands over my mouth, trying to muffle the sound of my sobs. Tears spill down my cheeks, and as I slide down the door, they spill onto my thighs.
What the fuck have I done?
ANTON
I stand outside the locked spare room door with my forehead rested against it. I’ve fucked everything up so badly, but once I got talking, I felt it was best to rip the Band-Aid off in one go and tell her everything. Now, I’ve got to work on her forgiveness. I sigh, pushing off the door and heading downstairs.
I find Michael in my office, working away on his laptop. He glances up and smirks. “The deed is done?” I nod once then pour myself a large scotch, leaving out the ice. I take a large mouthful and wince as it burns my throat. “I’m guessing it didn’t go well seeing as you’re here drinking scotch like water instead of snuggling with your new wife.”
I hold the glass up in his direction, letting him know he’s got it in one, before knocking back the rest and setting the glass down to repour. He closes his laptop. “I hate to say I told you so, but . . .” I scowl, and he doesn’t bother to finish his sentence.
The security monitors light up and catch my attention. I watch as the gates open and Tag’s car drives in. “Fuck,” I groan. Like the night can’t possibly get any worse. When the car stops, Tag and Lucy get out, which only means one thing. Piper called her.
I head out to greet them, smiling wide and glancing at my watch. “It’s one-thirty in the morning. You must’ve missed me.”
Lucy glares at me. “Where is she?” she demands.
Tag gently squeezes her shoulder in a placating manner, but she shrugs him off. I’ll let her tone slide. I get why she’s upset, so I nod back towards the house, and she marches past me.
“Did you have an argument or something?” Tag asks, yawning.
I’ve yet to tell him about my marriage and the guilty feeling returns. Tag’s one of my closest men and I hate that I couldn’t tell him my plans, but it would have caused too much drama with Lucy.
“Let’s get a drink,” I say, leading him inside to the living room. I pour us each a large one, handing Tag his and taking my own to stand by the window. “We’re married,” I say, keeping my back to him.
I hear him splutter, and when I turn to face him, he’s wiping his chin. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Do you need me to repeat it, or are you just in shock?” I ask dryly.
He stands, and I square my shoulders. Tag won’t hit me, it would cost him too much, but I know he wants to as he slams his glass on the table. “You ran off to Italy and married my wife’s best friend?”
