by A. Zavarelli
I walked around the desk to join her with a smirk. “Only the best for you, baby doll.”
She blew out a breath and tossed her hat on the chair behind us. “This is going to be a long fucking marriage.”
ALTHOUGH I RECOGNIZED REX WAS probably an actual officiant, I also suspected he was intentionally making this ceremony beyond awful. For whatever reason, Lucian seemed hell-bent on making this wedding that he wanted a completely miserable event I would soon hope to forget.
Our half-drunk—and I suspected high as well—officiant stumbled over the words he read from a leather-bound booklet in his hands. If he really did this for a living, God help the poor souls who had to endure this and stamp it into their memories for all of eternity.
“Is he on something?” I asked halfway through the opening statement.
Lucian shot me a dark look and shook his head. Rex was the one to answer.
“High on life, baby. These vows are new to me, believe it or not.”
Lucian shifted at the admission, and I took notice. Did he pick them out? I thought it would be in my best interest to listen carefully if that was the case, and what I heard surprised me.
I expected sleaze, but what Rex recited was more traditional. He talked about honor and obeying, of course, but he also recited lines that were not quite the norm.
“Do you, Lucian, promise to protect her and always do what’s best for her, even if she may not like it?”
I looked at the man who was about to be my husband, and a weird sensation took root in my gut. He had never been anything but dead serious so far, and I suspected the same was true now.
“I do.”
Goose bumps broke out along my arms, and I tried to regain my bearings. Something about that line shook me to my core. I could still remember a time when all I ever wanted was a protector. A dark avenger. Someone who would come and save us from our life. But I wasn’t a little girl anymore, and I’d been saving myself for a long time.
“And do you, Gypsy, promise to listen and trust that Lucian has your best intentions at heart in all matters, large and small?”
I stared into the inky pools of his eyes, wondering what I was missing. It didn’t make sense to me. None of this made any sense. I didn’t want to respond because everything about this was a lie. But I thought of Birdie and what would happen if either of us went to prison. I imagined the devastation I would see in her eyes when the jig was up, and our lives were officially over. That was all the confirmation I needed to spur me on, and I recited the vows back word for word.
The charade continued with promises of honesty and loyalty in the face of struggles yet to come. Every line felt like it was sealing my fate with some form of dark voodoo I’d never be able to escape, but the truth was, I worried that it was Lucian I’d never escape.
There was already an end in sight. Two years, for better or worse. But it felt like so much more than that. It felt like at that moment, I was surrendering myself to some greater force that would change my life forever.
The ceremony came to an abrupt halt when Rex declared us husband and wife. He didn’t bother to tell us we should kiss, and Lucian didn’t try.
It should have brought me some relief, but all I could think about was when he would.
“Is everything okay?” Birdie bolted up from a seat outside Lucian’s office the moment she saw me.
I stuffed the evidence of my sister’s crime spree into my purse, tucking it away so that I could shred it later. True to his word, Lucian handed it over as soon as I was officially his wife.
“You were supposed to wait downstairs,” I told her.
Worry clouded the pretty blue of her eyes, and I wondered if there would ever come a time when I didn’t see her as a little girl who still needed me.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “Are you still negotiating?”
I offered her a weak smile. It was the easiest and most convenient lie. Birdie always took my word as gospel, and this time was no different. I didn’t want her to worry. I wanted her to know that everything would be all right, even if she didn’t like what I was about to say.
“The deal is done,” I murmured. “We’re married, B.”
Her eyes widened as they drifted to my hand, the ring on my finger weighing me down like a cement block.
“You lied to me,” she accused.
“I’m doing what’s best for both of us,” I insisted. “You don’t see that now, but someday you will. It’s only two years of my life. I know what I’m getting into, and I’m okay with it. I need you to be okay with it too.”
“How can I?” She paced around the room, shaking her blond hair with every jittery motion. “You barely know this guy! He could be a sick, twisted fuck who wants to kill you and eat your liver for all you know.”
“I doubt he’d have gone to the trouble of marrying me if that were true,” I teased. “This isn’t any different than what I’ve been doing for the past four years, B. It’s just another job. A marathon instead of a sprint. It’s going to be okay, and you’re going to be okay because you’re going to get out of here.”
“No.” She came to a dead stop and jammed a finger into her chest. “This is my fault, and I should be the one to pay. I’m not leaving you.”
I couldn’t focus on what happened, and I wouldn’t let Birdie either. We both needed to move forward. “I can talk to you anytime by phone or email,” I assured her. “And you can come visit me once a month.”
Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “That’s not good enough. I can’t just take off—”
“Birdie, there are dangerous men here who want to hurt you. I won’t be able to sleep at night until you tell me that you’re going to move.”
Her lip trembled as she swathed her arms around herself. She knew I wasn’t exaggerating. I’d be sick with worry about her, and it was the truth I was counting on that she’d do exactly what I needed her to.
I choked down the pain in my voice and forced myself to focus. “Remember plan A?”
She nodded. For as long as we’d been in Vegas, I’d had exit strategies in place for us. It only made sense, considering my line of work. And now Birdie would have to use that plan on her own.
The thought tore me up inside, but I couldn’t let her know it. We hadn’t been apart for more than a couple of weeks at a time in the past few years. Back when we first ran, we couldn’t even sleep in separate beds because we were so terrified. But Birdie was a grown woman now, and I needed her to be brave and smart and strong just like I’d been trying to teach her.
“Everything you need is in the apartment.” I held up my fingers as I ticked off the list. “There’s cash, lists of places to stay, and people you can trust there. Ace is going to take you home and make sure you get out of the city safely tonight.”
She blinked at the sudden impact of my statement. “Tonight?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “I will be going to Lucian’s.”
Birdie flung herself at me and squeezed so hard I thought she might actually break me. I wasn’t prepared to say goodbye, but it was better to do it now. This was the only way she would be safe. I had to keep telling myself that to believe it was the right thing to do.
“I’m so sorry, Gypsy,” she sobbed. “I won’t ever let you down again.”
“I know you are,” I whispered. “And I’m going to hold you to that. You can enroll in another GED program. Promise me you won’t quit.”
“I promise,” she heaved the words out.
“And promise me you won’t steal anything else ever again.”
She pulled back, only to reach down and hook her pinky into mine. “Never, ever, ever.”
“THIS IS THE GPS DEVICE we discussed.”
Gypsy glanced at the silver band and wrinkled her nose. “A watch?”
I edged my fingers over the metal, unlocking it before I secured it on her wrist. “Don’t bother tampering with it. If you do, our deal is void.”
“It’s ugly.” She poked at
the links, moving it around her delicate wrist.
“Well, if that doesn’t work for you, there’s always an ankle chain.”
“Funny,” she snapped.
I got out of the car and left her to open the door and follow me inside. My bride was distant and quiet as I introduced her to our home. The four-bedroom fortress was nestled into the gated community of Diamond Bay, an exclusive retreat in the suburb of Desert Shores, but Gypsy didn’t seem impressed.
“Did you just move in?” She glanced around the crisp white space, taking particular notice of the cathedral ceilings and Roman columns. The place was probably a little too decadent for my tastes, if I were honest, but at the time I’d purchased it, I was in a hurry and it was available.
“No. I’ve lived here for five years.”
Her dark eyebrows shot up as she surveyed the open floor plan. “It’s so empty. And white.”
She wasn’t wrong. The furniture and decorations were sparse, consisting only of the necessities since I was seldom home. I rarely had visitors, except for Nolan and Ace, but I considered how she might see the space from her perspective.
“Ace will bring whatever furniture you’d like from your apartment.” I observed a few empty spots she could fill. “And if you’d like to redecorate, that’s not out of the realm of possibility.”
Gypsy shot me a look that proved she found the idea amusing. She didn’t seem like the homemaking type, considering she rarely ever had a place to call home for very long.
“The entire upper level consists of the master bedroom,” I explained as we walked upstairs and opened the French doors. “This is our room.”
She looked around the space, her face absent of emotion. “You want me to sleep in here with you?”
There was a softness to her voice that betrayed her nerves, but I chose to ignore it. Nothing I said would ease her fears, and there was no point wasting my breath. “There is space in the closet for your things. The bags are already in there, so you can unpack.”
She swiveled away from the closet, completely disinterested. “Don’t you have someone who can do that for me?”
My dick swelled at her bratty behavior. Gypsy had been living the high life for the past few years, but she was in for a surprise.
“I have a housekeeper,” I answered. “But she isn’t here to do you any favors, she comes here to clean. And besides, I gave her the week off. Remember?”
She crossed her arms and it pushed her breasts up between them. They were soft, natural, and huge, and already, I’d had too many indecent thoughts about them. Thoughts I shouldn’t have entertained at all.
“I’m not cleaning your house,” she insisted.
I smiled. “We’ll see.”
In the interest of establishing the rules, I decided it would be best to marry on a Friday so I had the weekend to play house, so to speak.
Already, Gypsy seemed to be settling in and attempting to exert her control over the situation. In the three hours she’d been here, she’d complained about the lack of cable TV, demanded the Wi-Fi password, and whined about my comment that she’d be responsible for making her own meals when I was gone.
“So you can have meals prepared for you?” she asked as she eyeballed the containers in the fridge, “but I can’t?”
“No,” I answered. “Marisa isn’t here to serve you. Although I’m certain it will be a real hardship, you are capable of making a sandwich.”
She slammed the fridge door and glared. “Fine, I’ll just eat out. No big deal.”
“Not likely.” I turned my attention back to the yellow legal pad in my lap, attempting to read over the notes I’d made today.
“What does that mean?” she questioned. “Not likely? I have my own money. I can do whatever I want with it.”
Exhaustion settled into my body as I put my work away for the evening. I’d been hoping to avoid this conversation until she was tired too, but even after unpacking her belongings, she showed no signs of slowing down.
“I made it clear that you’d be cleaning the house for the week,” I said. “And you refused. Which means you’re grounded.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief, and she laughed. “Grounded? What, like I’m five?”
“Yes, grounded,” I repeated. “You won’t be leaving the house until you’ve performed the task I’ve given to my satisfaction. It’s a rather simple concept.”
“And what, you’re just going to stay here and make sure I don’t run off?”
“It’s not necessary,” I assured her. “I can lock every door in this house from my phone if I want to. And even if I couldn’t, you’re wearing that watch. Failing all that, there is one last thing you seem to have forgotten already. I own you, Gypsy. And if you want to fuck with me, be my guest. See how far that gets you. Already, I’m beginning to wonder if prison would be a better alternative.”
Her cheeks flushed red, and her nostrils flared. “You are unbelievable. Do you get off on this?”
“Do I get off on dealing with an overindulged princess who thinks the world owes her everything? The answer is no.”
“You know nothing about me.” She sliced the air between us with her hand, as if to cut any invisible connection we might have.
“I know a lot more than I care to admit,” I replied. “And the first thing you should know is how sorry I am for what happened in your past. But it doesn’t mean that you get to go through life punishing every man who crosses your path for the sins of your father.”
Her fingers curled inward, nails biting into her skin as she turned away to hide the rare display of emotion. “You don’t know anything about my past. I don’t care what you read or who you talked to.”
I let her have that statement because it was the only thing she had right now. The room was quiet, and I needed to establish her boundaries, but my phone alarm went off, signaling it was time for dinner.
I silenced the alarm and walked into the kitchen, retrieving the meal from the fridge that Marisa had prepared for tonight. Gypsy sat at the table, texting her sister while I assembled dinner. When I placed the salad and bread in front of her, she dismissed it with a shove of her hand.
“I’m gluten free.”
“If that were true, then you wouldn’t have eaten the breadsticks at Sinatra,” I said. “But regardless, the choice is yours. You don’t have to eat. You can just sit here while I do.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.” She stood and straightened out her dress. “I think I’ll take a shower so I can wash this awful day off me.”
IN ALMOST ANY SITUATION, THERE was usually a silver lining, and in this case, it was Lucian’s open stonework rainforest shower.
I took my time, allowing the hot water to cascade over my sore muscles and soak into my skin. I’d brought my own bath products with me—thank God—because all he had was bar soap and basic shampoo.
After washing my hair and exfoliating my body, I felt like a new woman. Or at least, I felt I could handle whatever the rest of this weekend held. It was only eight o’clock on a Friday, and I was already bored out of my mind.
Stepping from the shower, I reached for one of the towels, which held a lot to be desired. It appeared that even though Lucian had money, he had no clue how to shop for anything.
I dried off my body and reached for the silk pajamas I’d set out, but they weren’t there. In their place was a cheap white tee shirt and black yoga pants. My eyes burned a trail of fire over the offending items before I wrapped the towel around me and walked out of the master bathroom.
I couldn’t even grab something else because it seemed Lucian had locked the door to the closet as well. Nevertheless, I still jiggled the handle until his voice from behind made me jump.
“You can wiggle it all day long. It won’t open unless I unlock it.”
Clutching the towel around me, I turned and met his gaze. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Those are my clothes.”
He crossed his arms and stood firm. “I told you that y
ou would clean the house, and you refused. I told you that you were grounded, and you didn’t acknowledge it. And then you broke a direct order to remain at the table during dinner. The only logical conclusion is that your privileges be revoked.”
“So you’re taking my clothes?” I snorted. “That’s your grand plan to get me to do whatever you want?”
“Not just your clothes.” His eyes flicked to my painted toenails. “The shoes too. And your iphone.”
Blind rage burned into my chest as I stalked toward him. “You can’t do that.”
“I can, and I did.”
“I’m supposed to have contact with Birdie,” I insisted. “You promised.”
“And you can,” he answered. “Through me. If there are messages you would like to relay, I will send them until you can learn some manners.”
“Manners?” A bitter laugh burst from my chest. “That has to be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard coming from an asshole like you.”
He arched his brow. “Would you care to make it two weeks? I have no problem with that.”
My lips slammed shut because I actually believed him. For whatever reason, this little game seemed to amuse him.
“All right, it’s settled then,” he said. “You have one week to clean the house and start earning your things back. But for now, I’d suggest you go get dressed. You have thirty minutes until bedtime.”
“Bedtime?”
“Yes,” he repeated slowly. “Bedtime.”
I waited until I turned to roll my eyes, stomping back to the bathroom. But it didn’t stop me from hearing his last threat.
“Oh, and Gypsy? Next time a foul word leaves that pretty mouth, see what happens.”
The tee shirt was scratchy and uncomfortable, and the leggings were even worse. It reminded me of a time when I had nothing, and I hated it. I hated that Lucian had this level of control over me already, but every time I thought about leaving, I remembered Birdie.
The cost was too high.
It was my job to protect her, and if that meant putting up with Lucian’s deranged games for a couple of years, then it was a small price to pay.