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I want to turn around. I want to run away. But I’m pulled inexorably forward, closer and closer to the priest, Nolan’s hand like a vice on mine.
“Get it over with,” he barks.
The priest flinches as if slapped. “I, ah, I can do a shortened version—”
“Skip to the end.” Nolan shoves a thumb at a low table nearby covered in documents. “And right to the paperwork.”
“Right, uh.” The priest glances at me. He’s younger than I would’ve guessed, in his early forties, with stubble on his face and bloodshot eyes. “Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“Yes,” Nolan says. “And she says yes too.”
“Then I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now—”
Nolan grabs me roughly, pulls me against him, and lands a possessive, incredible kiss on my lips.
I linger there for longer than I should. I can’t help myself. The moment his mouth touches mine, I feel an echo of the magic we managed to conjure together that first night. He’s right—the spark’s still there, hidden away inside of me, afraid for a dozen reasons. Afraid for the baby, afraid for the shop, afraid I’ll lose everything. Afraid Nolan will take too much, and I’ll be left a shadow of myself, ghosting after him.
But no matter how much my mind chatters, how many reasons I have to refuse to sign that marriage certificate, none of it matters.
Only his kiss. Only his hands on my hips. Only him, his taste, lemony and fresh, flooding my mouth, pounding into my mind.
It’s wrong, it’s good. It’s too much. I whimper into his mouth, pressing myself tighter. He doesn’t need to pin me any longer. I’ve already given myself over, at least for the duration of a kiss.
Which is long enough to make me realize how much trouble I’m in.
When the kiss breaks apart, my reality comes flooding back. Nolan drags me over to the table and the priest lingers, looking uncomfortable.
“Sign here, and here, and here.” The priest walks us through the paperwork, which is straightforward. When he’s done, he collects everything, double-checks it, and nods to himself. “I’ll file in the morning. Congratulations, you two.” He manages not to slur, though I smell the alcohol on his breath.
“Adrian will see you out. Thank you, Father.”
The old guard leads the priest to the elevator.
But Nolan remains behind. He walks to the railing, gripping the edge as he looks out at the city. I hesitate, not sure what to do, before I follow.
“It’s done,” he says, not glancing in my direction. His face seems conflicted, which makes a stab of anger flush into me.
“Don’t sound so upset about it.”
He seems surprised by my reaction. “I’m not upset. Not at all.”
“Tell that to your face.”
He shakes his head, smiling. “You misunderstand. I’m happy. It’s only, our lives are going to change now. Even if we divorce like you plan in five months, everything’s going to change.”
“Having second thoughts?”
“Not in the slightest.” He reaches out, pulling me to his side. I stumble against him, sucking in a breath as I glance down at the parking lot hundreds of feet below. “All my life, I’ve done what’s best for the family.” He speaks in a low, emotional tenor. “My world’s been the Crowley organization since I was old enough to understand language. I worshipped my father, then I feared him, then I hated him, but all the while I did what I had to do. For family is always greater.” He says that last line like he has it memorized.
“What happened? To your father, I mean?”
“He passed. Nobody’s upset about it. Carson took over as boss like everyone expected, and everything changed.” He’s silent for another moment, before turning to me. “I don’t want you to think that I’ll ever let you get hurt by any of this. The family business is my burden, not yours.”
“That’s good to know. I didn’t plan on gunning down any gangsters in the street.”
“I didn’t either, but things change.” He leans closer, mouth brushing against my neck. “Now that you’re mine, what should I do with you?” The shift in conversation is abrupt, like he’s forcing himself to push past an uncomfortable memory.
“I was thinking you’d let me get a good night’s sleep.”
