Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
From my briefcase, I withdraw the seal I noticed in her shop yesterday—the Celtic knot pattern that caught my attention. I'd purchased it after she left to prepare for our departure, a small acknowledgment of the craft that defines her.
I heat a stick of deep red wax, holding it over the envelope's closure until melted wax pools on the paper. Then I press her seal into it—a perfect impression, binding our agreement in the material of her chosen craft.
She signs the contract. I seal it in wax.
Chapter Four
KLEAH
MARRIAGE. TO A STRANGER. Because of blood I never knew ran in my veins.
The thought circles in my mind as I stand in a small, private room within the courthouse, dressed in clothes I didn't even own twenty-four hours ago. A simple cream-colored dress—elegant but understated—that appeared this morning alongside a note from Gabriele: For today, if you wish. Your choice.
I chose to wear it, though I'm not entirely sure why. Perhaps because in a life suddenly spiraling beyond my control, the dress is one small choice I can make. Perhaps because some part of me wants to honor the magnitude of this moment, strange as it may be.
Or perhaps simply because it's beautiful, and beauty has always been my weakness.
I study my reflection in the narrow mirror. The dress fits perfectly—of course it does—falling just below my knees in a clean, classic line that makes me look more sophisticated than I feel. My hair is loose around my shoulders, my makeup minimal. I look like a bride, I suppose, though not the kind who dreamed of this day her whole life.
A soft knock at the door signals that it's time. I take a deep breath, hands smoothing the fabric of the dress in a nervous gesture I can't quite suppress.
"Come in," I call.
Gabriele enters, and my breath catches. He's wearing a perfectly tailored dark suit that emphasizes the breadth of his shoulders, the leonine grace of his movements. His eyes, those dark eyes that see too much, widen slightly at the sight of me.
"You wore it."
"It seemed appropriate."
Something flickers across his face—surprise, perhaps, or approval. "It suits you."
"Thank you." I fidget with the small clutch in my hands. "So... how does this work?"
"Simply. We go in, the judge performs the ceremony, we sign the papers, it's done."
"That's it? No witnesses?"
"Two from my security team. Discreet, professional. They won't speak of it." A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "Ready?"
No. Not remotely. But what choice do I have?
"As I'll ever be."
He holds out his arm, and after a moment's hesitation, I place my hand on it. The solid warmth of him is oddly reassuring as he leads me down the corridor to a small, wood-paneled chamber where an elderly judge awaits behind a polished desk. Two men in dark suits stand against the far wall—the promised witnesses, I assume.
The room is cool and quiet, sunlight slanting through venetian blinds to cast striped patterns across the floor. It feels oddly peaceful, despite the surreal circumstances.
The ceremony itself is brief, perfunctory. The judge speaks of commitment and partnership in formal terms that seem divorced from the reality of what Gabriele and I are doing. We're not uniting our lives out of love or shared dreams, but out of necessity—my need for protection, his obligation to my brother.
When it comes time for rings, Gabriele produces a simple platinum band. Nothing ostentatious, but the quality is unmistakable. He slides it onto my finger with surprising gentleness, his hand warm against mine.
I have no ring for him. This thought bothers me more than it should.
"By the power vested in me," the judge intones, his voice echoing slightly in the small chamber, "I now pronounce you husband and wife."
Just like that, it's done. I am Kleah Bronzetti now, legally bound to the dangerous stranger beside me. A stranger who holds my life in his hands.
We sign the papers in silence, my signature looking small and uncertain next to Gabriele's bold strokes. The witnesses add their names, and then we're walking back down the corridor, my hand still resting on Gabriele's arm.
I wait until we're in the car to speak. "So what now... husband?" The word feels foreign on my tongue, but when I see how it has Gabriele disconcerted?
I like it.
My husband clears his throat. "Now we go home." He starts the engine, pulling smoothly away from the courthouse. "
We're both silent during the drive, but the silence feels different now—charged with unspoken questions, with possibilities I'm not ready to examine. Outside, the first drops of rain begin to hit the windshield, fat and heavy against the glass.
By the time we reach the safe house, the rain has become a steady downpour. Gabriele pulls into the garage, the automatic door closing smoothly behind us.
"Go on in," he says. "I need to check the security system."