Sine Qua Non

Chapter Sixteen

Nicholas slid the lazily-drawn contract back across the desk as he studied the man who was old enough to be his father. He wasn’t really seeing him ; it was Jay and her crying face floating before his eyes. He had come home from his run in a relatively good mood, only to find the relaxed and happy woman he’d left reduced to a shattered version of herself.

And then she’d held up the pictures.

“What the fuck is this,” he began, in a cold tone that came out sharp enough that the man across from him flinched. That was no good. He was too emotional, too distracted to really bargain properly, but for the moment at least, shock had given him the edge. “This is an insult.”

The man stammered some excuse. Nicholas barely listened. He’d heard them all before.

They marched in here as if they had come from an assembly line of white, balding executives in bespoke suits and Countess Mara ties and they fucked with him because they wanted to be him, thinking his youth made him a fool, thinking that age made them smarter.

If it were Jay in here taking notes, she would have been staring at him with a hint of subtle reprimand. But instead he had Annica, who was still bristly from their “growth” conversation, who would only glance up occasionally to see if he had finished speaking before taking notes.

This man, as irritating as he was, was just a proxy for who he really wanted to destroy.

“One-point-five-percent, minimum,” Nicholas said at last. “I’m not going to bargain.”

Sweat was beading at the man’s temples. It was the sweat of a man who could already feel the heat of the grill and had braced himself to endure the flames.

He agreed so quickly that it was embarrassing for both of them. There were rings of dampness beneath the arms of his charcoal Armani suit and he left without shaking Nicholas’s hand, which was just as well because he couldn’t seem to relax his out of a fist.

Silently, he followed the other man out, holding the door open for his secretary as a courtesy she coldly ignored, preceding him out of the conference room with only the harshest of thanks before taking her seat next to Jay. He didn’t miss the dirty look she shot her, either.

Jay looked especially pretty today, with just a clip holding back her hair and all those curls tumbling down her shoulders in a glorious fall of umber shot through with silver. Normally, she kept it up and she was getting second glances from men passing by in the halls.

People said all kinds of things behind his back. He’d heard whispers at work, seen it in the papers, even had some of it said to his face. It came with the territory of owning a company that brokered international deals with the morally flexible and having a skirt-chaser as a father.

Jay had left before their family legacy had all gone up in flames. When she returned, only the ashes were smoldering; he had been there for the inferno, and seen all of his father’s so-called friends melt away while everyone else kept their distance, waiting to see how it played out.

Seeing the devastation on her face had made his chest tighten, reminding him of a time not so long ago when he had been the one to elicit that look.

He had savored it then. Now, it made it hard to breathe.

At least some of the photographs had been taken on his property. He hadn’t wanted to examine them too closely in front of her, but he recognized the view and perspective on the one taken of them in the pool. The photographer would have had to have been standing in the shadows of those cypress trees that his father had put in to capture that angle.

He had checked the security camera that looked out over the drive, and the side of the house, and after spending a few hours going through the footage, he’d caught a glimpse of a stealthy figure making its way up the walkway. They hesitated for only a moment before heading not towards the front door, but to the immediate left. Right for the pool.

Like they knew exactly where to go.

Jay, the poor little bird, thought this was going to ruin their lives. Thinking, no doubt, of the men like his father who would only be too happy to imagine her in flagrante delicto.

“It’s not like we’re actually brother and sister,” Nicholas had pointed out, which hadn’t been the comfort he thought it would be. She had just looked away and sobbed.

He had switched to a different, more familiar tack. “If whoever sent this really wanted to ruin our lives, these would be posted somewhere already. Which means that they probably plan on bargaining with them. I am very, very good at bargaining, Jay, and when I found out who did this, I will listen to their terms and then I will fuck them so hard, they’ll wish they’d never been born.”

She had laughed miserably but he’d gotten a small, wavering smile. “You sound so scary.”

“That’s because I am.”

His first thought was that it was Jay’s own mother, who had been ruthlessly pressing her for cash for weeks. When the calls stopped, he’d been suspicious rather than relieved, though he hadn’t voiced his suspicions to Jay. She also wasn’t very technologically inclined—he had a distinct memory of ignoring her when she’d shouted up to him to help her program the DVD player—and she had all the stealth of an airhorn. There was no way she had taken these photos herself.

But that didn’t mean she hadn’t outsourced the work to someone on Craigslist.

Then Jay, still in tears, had told him about her confrontation with Michael outside his wife’s bakery-slash-restaurant, and the subsequent slap—he would have paid good money to see that .

Right after he ran the two-timing double-fuck over in a fatal hit-and-run.

Anyone who knew them could have done it, though. It wasn’t a secret where he lived, and plenty of people wanted to see them fall. As he’d told Jay once, perfection was really fucking annoying. So was success.

But the VP role hadn’t been announced yet, and he’d never gotten close enough to any woman in Hollybrook for Jay to be seen as romantic competition. His address also wasn’t listed in the company directory and he had never given it to any of his “dates.” He had been discreet. He had always been discreet, even with Jay.

Michael had figured it out and his stepmother certainly had, so he supposed others harbored their suspicions. But they were only suspicions. Conjecture didn’t hold up in a court of law.

Even he knew better than to say “maybe it was your mother” when Jay looked so fragile, though. Besides, the photos had clearly been taken with a tele-photo lens and those weren’t cheap. Even if Danielle had outsourced, a good photographer was likely more than she could afford.

So he had moved on to the next best solution, grabbing her on their way out the door.

“Bring your dress to work. I’m marrying you today.”

“W-what?” She eyed him incredulously. “I thought we agreed that we would wait until after all of the interviews were over so there wouldn’t be a conflict of interest.”

“That was all you. Now, the situation has changed. You’re worried about your reputation—and the public perception is very different for a mistress versus a wife.”

“But that’s a terrible reason to get married!”

“There are no terrible reasons. Not where you’re concerned. Besides, you’ve always known that I can be a little bit mercenary. I’m just staying true to form.”

Jay hadn’t denied his words. She knew what he was like. And he knew what she was like. Watching her fret, he was filled with the suspicion that if he allowed Jay to her own devices, she’d be on the first bus out of town, and he had no intention of letting that happen. She would be walking down that aisle with him, even if the “I dos” had to come with their last dying breaths.

By the time he got back to his desk, he had a whole page of emails waiting for him. He jotted off a few quick replies to the ones that seemed most important before redelegating the rest. Then he pulled out his phone.

Did you try the dress on?

Yes , she responded. And it fits. I didn’t think it would.

He had. As soon as he’d seen the dress draped over the back of the embroidered chair in his bedroom, he’d known. She wouldn’t have arranged the drape of the skirt so carefully if she hadn’t fallen in love with it.

I removed the outer skirt , she wrote. It’s one of those day-to-night dresses. For dancing, I think. Did your mom get married in the 80s?

She did. She told me once that she wanted to look like the princess in Swan Lake.

There was a pause. Do I need to sign anything for your lawyers? Like a prenup?

You tore up a check for ten million dollars. If this is some kind of long-con, you’re playing it so well that even I can’t see the angle. And any lawyer I hired to verify the contract would probably cost more than you’ve ever allowed me to spend on you. So no, Jay. You sign nothing.

That’s surprisingly idealistic for a cynic like you , she responded.

I’m a romantic. Also, if you ever try to fuck me, I’m just going to fuck you back.

I know. She sent an eye roll emoji. Nicholas Beaucroft fucks everyone twice as hard as everyone else who tries to fuck him.

Say that to my fucking face tonight without stammering over the fucks. I want to hear it.

She sent him a middle finger. He sent her a diamond, an eggplant, and a bird.

I’m going to make you say it. ‘Daddy fucks me twice as hard as any man who’s ever tried to fuck me, including my ex who couldn’t make me come.’

I’m going to unmarry you.

Then I’ll just have to marry you again with an even bigger ring and think of some even filthier things for you to say to me on our next honeymoon.

I don’t recommend that. The diamonds fell out of my stupid rich person nails. You’re already coming into this marriage at a $20,000 net loss. :(

A snort escaped him.

He heard her laugh echo through the office, though she quickly tried to stifle it, looking around self-consciously as she covered her mouth in a gesture he recognized all too well because he had seen it every time her mother dressed her down for being herself.

I’m going to kill her mother.

Reluctant to end the conversation, he put his phone away and headed to the conference room for his next meeting, where he was intercepted by the VP of Marketing, who looked anxious as he wielded a slim folder like a shield.

“Mr. Beaucroft? These are the quarterly profits you asked for.”

“I’m on my way to a meeting. Didn’t I ask for those two weeks ago?”

“Yes, you did. But one of the files got corrupted. We had to have IT retrieve the data.” He cleared his throat. “Should I put it on your desk?”

“No. Those numbers are confidential. Shred the folder and send the data to me in a spreadsheet. I’ll review it later.”

The man nodded, looking crestfallen, and hurried towards the copy room. Nicholas looked over at Arthur’s office, but he was in a meeting with a woman from Acquisitions and the two of them were talking animatedly. As he passed, Arthur lifted his hand in a congenial wave.

Nicholas nodded back, before shutting himself into the main conference room. The meeting was tedious and he really did need to speak to Arthur, but when the presenter finally wrapped up their presentation on their current roster of prospective, high value clients, Arthur was still in his meeting, much to his annoyance.

Not wanting to hang around the door like a student at office hours, Nicholas went back to his own office. At his desk, he opened one of the bottom drawers and took out a burner phone.

Danielle hadn’t answered when he’d tried to call from the house, so he hadn’t bothered with his cell or office phone, figuring she was screening her calls. Smart enough to block his number but not smart enough to realize that her proactive silence was an admission of guilt.

Not smart enough to realize that he could buy as many phones as she could block.

She picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”

His hand flexed involuntarily. “It’s Nicholas. I understand that you’ve been trying to get in contact with Jay about my finances. That’s unacceptable to me. If you want to do business with me, you do it with me—not her”

“Got her locked up in the attic?”

“It’s about seventeen years too late for you to still be pretending that Jane Eyre is your favorite book. Or haven’t you already cannibalized enough of her life?”

“What do you want?”

“The negatives of the photographs I know you sent.”

There was a brief pause. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It was almost admirable, how well she lied. But he had watched her con his father for years and knew her for the careerist bullshit artist that she was: the kind who would sell her own firstborn child to save her own skin.

Someone waved at him through the glass wall of his office, trying to get his attention. Nicholas spun around in his chair, making an impatient brushing-off motion.

“Unlike you, I’m not a fucking adulteress trying to skate around an infidelity clause. It’s nobody’s business what I do in my own house, and if you think you and your two-bit Craigslist photographer can wring money out of me with an outdated Nikon, I’m going to come after you so hard that you’ll be pissing litigation.”

“So you’re threatening me,” she said, a little too loudly.

Was she recording him? How amusing. “It’s not a threat. It’s a promise. Just like the promise you made to my father before violating it on top of a freezer with a pool cleaner young enough to be your son. But that’s not my problem. You can fuck every moron from here to Kokomo as long as it means that I never have to hear from you again.

“What is my problem is you calling here, upsetting Jay, and making her cry as you try to fuck up her life for what I have to figure is the thousandth time. These photographs—which, I know, you’ve never seen before, it must be nice to outsource your dirty work—are the last straw. Do not test me. If you have the negatives, I suggest you give them to me. And if you don’t have the negatives, you had better find them and still give them to me, or I will make you very sorry.”

“You have a lot of nerve accusing me of anything when you were perfectly happy to buy her from me yourself.”

The truth of that statement hit him like a wall. Because it had been exactly like that, hadn’t it? Knowing he couldn’t lure Jay to himself willingly, he had employed the same underhanded tactics to reel her in, like a fly caught in a spider’s web. “What did you do with the money I paid you for that?”

“I have expenses.”

He laughed harshly. “I just bet you do.”

“You never had to work. Not like I did.”

God, the fucking irony. He leaned back in his chair, looking down at Jay at her desk. I had to work three times as hard. “Do you even have a job?”

“Screw you.”

So that’s a no , he thought, pleased that he’d gotten to her. The more unsettled she was, the more likely it would be that she’d screw up later. “I’m having a hard time hearing you over this line. Perhaps we should get together and discuss this in person.”

“I’m not having you over to my house.”

“Well, I’m not exactly dying to go to the Aging Barbie Dreamhouse but you started this. And don’t even think about bypassing me to harass Jay, who will be coming along with me when I come to see you, by the way. She’ll tell me if you try to contact her.”

“Jay wouldn’t do that. She doesn’t like the way you talk to me. I’m still her mother.”

Nicholas laughed. “You were her mother. But I’m taking care of her now.”

“Yes, your father told me all about your sick little games before he died. But she didn’t want you—then or now. What makes you think she wouldn’t leave you the way everyone else did?”

And there it is , he thought.

“Because we’re getting married,” Nicholas said. “So either you set up an appointment with my secretary or I’ll be coming to see you on my own time—with my wife.”

He hung up on her outraged squawk, pleased. Now all he had to do was sit back and wait to see how she’d react. However she was earning her money now, he doubted it was legal. He could imagine her being in debt to dangerous men who were twisting her arm for cash.

But he could—and would—twist a whole lot harder.

Arthur had finally finished his meeting and whoever had foolishly tried to get his attention was nowhere in sight, so he seized the moment to head to his CFO’s office.

As he walked, he glanced down at the little administrative hub below the mezzanine where Jay was working busily. He felt a wave of jealousy. He missed her gentle touch. Ever since she’d been swapped over to Arthur, he’d started noticing the bumps in his schedule. Despite what Annica thought, his days had never felt as seamless as they had been when they’d been managed by Jay, and every time he’d had a meeting with her, the scent of her shampoo had left him feeling drunk.

He swung Arthur’s door closed behind him, the sound making the older man look up. His eyebrows bunched together briefly and then he smiled and pushed his laptop back.

“Nicholas. What can I do you for?”

“I came to ask you for a favor.”

Arthur’s smile faltered. “What kind of favor?”

“I want you to be a witness at my wedding.”

“At your—oh, yes, that’s right. You and Jay.” Arthur blinked at his laptop, as if surprised to find it closed. “Of course. I’d be happy to.”

Nicholas watched the other man straighten out his starched-looking cuffs and wondered if his wife did his shirts. He wondered if Jay would do his. The image of her leaning in as she knotted his tie popped into his head, bringing with it the phantom sensation of her fingers grazing his throat, and though he was not aware of it, his cheeks flushed.

“When is the wedding?” Arthur asked.

“Today.”

Arthur laughed. When Nicholas didn’t respond in kind, his smile dimmed again. “Today? That’s rather last-minute notice for a wedding.”

“It’s not exactly a wedding. It’s a civil ceremony. I’ve been in love with Jay since I was a kid.” Nicholas folded his arms behind his back. “She was too good for me then. She’s probably too good for me now. But I lost her once because I didn’t do right by her when I should have and I’m not making that mistake again. We’re getting married this afternoon.”

Arthur toyed with one of his expensive fountain pens. He’d been around at the company long enough that he’d still been working here when his father had been alive. Sometimes, like now, Nicholas found himself wondering how Arthur thought the two of them compared.

“She’s very worried about you,” Arthur said at length.

“I know.” He set his teeth. “I need to do this. Please.”

Arthur set down the pen. “I don’t see how I can refuse.”

“Thank you.” Nicholas headed for the door, darting another look at Jay. “I mean that.”

*****

Weddings were supposed to be the happiest day of your life.

Or at the very least, Jay thought, they weren’t supposed to fill you with panic and doubt.

It had been an awful day, too. Ominously so. After getting hung up on by one of Nicholas’s would-be investees and spending her morning correcting spreadsheet errors and bad formulas, Jay was ready to hide in the bathroom and never come out.

Soon, all eyes will be on you. No one will think you’re good enough.

She couldn’t shake off the terrified little voice whispering that this was part of Nicholas’s revenge. That he had coaxed her into falling in love with him just so he could shatter her heart.

“Jay?” An executive from one of the other departments was looking down at her impatiently. “Can you photocopy these documents for me?”

“I was actually just getting ready to leave, but sure, I guess. Just leave them on the edge of my desk and I’ll take care of them tomorrow morning.”

Annica huffed very quietly, and Jay turned to look at her.

“These are confidential figures,” the man said. “I can’t just leave them sitting around. I need them done today.”

“Well, I can’t do them today.”

His face darkened. “Then what are we paying you for?”

“She’s not your assistant, Harold.” The deep voice came from behind them both, with a hard edge that made a diamond drill seem soft by comparison. “Or do we need to discuss the reason you’re unable to get your own work done on company time without outsourcing it to the C-suite assistants?”

Harold blinked and stammered out an excuse, clutching his precious papers to his chest as he scurried away. Jay cringed, very aware of Annica’s notice when Nicholas turned his attention back on her. “Are you ready to go?”

“Uh, yeah. Let me just—um. Get my stuff. For my appointment.”

She could feel Annica’s stare as she tugged the bag out from under her desk. She walked to the restroom at a clip. Why did I think this would work?

Surely, Nicholas wasn’t so cruel that he would get her all dressed up in his mother’s white dress, only to abandon her at the altar, or wherever it was you abandoned someone when it was just a civil marriage ceremony.

(You let me tie you up, blue jay. Don’t you trust me to take care of you properly?)

She really didn’t care what he did to her body. She was more afraid of what he would do to her heart. That the whisper of vintage silk against her skin was just the first link in a chain that would bind her to him forever: a man who could hate as fiercely as he loved, who did not believe in uncertainties. Her polar opposite, some would say. Not the sort of man anyone would ever imagine her with. Not the sort of man that she had ever imagined for herself—

Until he made her.

The bathroom was empty and silent, except for a dripping tap. Sighing in relief, she went into one of the stalls to change. Even without the outer skirt, the dress had a lot of fabric. When Jay looked at herself in the mirror, the low sweetheart neckline made her blush and throw on her coat.

Good thing we’re not going to a church , she thought.

The office blurred around her as she stepped back out into the hall, holding the coat closed with the arm holding her purse as her eyes restlessly scanned for Nicholas’s rangy silhouette.

He wasn’t there.

Jay braced herself against the wall, sucking in a sharp breath as she tried not to cry. People glanced at her curiously and she turned her face away, hoping no one would ask her if she was all right. No. He wouldn’t do that to me , she thought desperately. He told me he loved me.

He promised he would never leave me.

A man’s hand gripped her upper arm and she looked up wildly, causing one of the tears in her eyes to slide down her cheek as she found herself looking into Nicholas’s cinereous gaze. She swiped at her face but she must have looked awful because his softened.

“I was parking the car out front.”

“Okay,” she said in a small voice.

“I’m here now.”

Nodding, she let him lead her away. Most people were in meetings or getting their late afternoon coffee, but in a company this big there were always a few people somewhere , and the sight of their CEO with a crying woman in a coat was bound to draw stares.

Stupid , Jay thought, that desperate feeling rising in her chest until it felt as if she were about to burst. What the hell were you thinking?

“Deep breaths, Jay.”

She stumbled to his car like a sleepwalker, stepping back to let him open the door for her. As she started to get in, she paused, blinking at the sight of the champagne glasses in the cupholders and what was clearly a makeshift bouquet on the front seat. White lilies, white jasmine, white roses—had these come from their own backyard? She cradled them, stunned.

“Like it?” he prompted.

“Oh . . . yes.” Her voice sounded faint even to her own ears. She set the flowers on her lap with a rustle, as the AC blew their sweet fragrance in her face, and picked up the champagne flute uncertainly. “Is this alcohol? I don’t think that’s legal.”

“Don’t make me drink alone on my wedding day, blue jay.” He held his glass aloft as he got behind the wheel, heedless of anyone who could see him waving his drink around like a madman. She clinked with him just to make him stop and he knocked back the glittering gold liquid in a single ravenous gulp. “Live a little.”

Jay sipped her own champagne, ducking every time they passed a car. “I think you live too much,” she muttered, and he gave a playful pinch.

“That’s because you’re a little rule follower.”

“I used to be.” She set her empty glass back in the cupholder and picked up the flowers, gripping the blooms so tightly that the petals were shedding faster than she could breathe. “I think we’ve both fallen from grace now.”

He put his hand—the same one he’d pinched her with—on her thigh. As if he’s checking to see if I’m really here . “Show me the dress.”

“You’re driving.”

“The light’s turning. I’ve been picturing it all day. Lose the coat.”

A fresh wave of heat poured down her throat, which was already far too warm, before radiating outwards in a wave of prickling numbness. As she peeled coat off, she could feel his gaze as if it were melted candle wax dripping over her skin, making her nipples bud against the silk.

“Fuck,” he said reverently. “You look like an angel.”

The car behind them honked, startling them both.

Jay tossed the coat in the back and Nicholas swore, hitting the gas hard enough to propel them both forward. She couldn’t get that look out of her head.

If only we didn’t have all this cruelty between us , she thought desperately. If only he had never listened to his father—if he had been kind—and honest from the start—

Her eyes went to the window, to the world beyond that now felt strangely muted, and her eyes widened to see a familiar silhouette with graying brown hair. “That looks like Arthur.”

She sat up, tugging at her skirt.

“I think it is Arthur. Nicholas, what is Arthur Hartwell doing here?”

“I invited him. He’s our witness.”

She glanced over and saw his eyes flick away; he’d been staring. “Our witness ?”

“You can’t get married without a witness.”

“When were you going to tell me that you asked my boss to be a witness at our wedding?”

“I just did.”

She gave him a frustrated look that he pretended not to see.

Hollybrook’s city hall was a beautiful Victorian with a mansard roof and white stucco walls. Once it had been a mansion belonging to a long-dead member of Hollybrook’s distinguished elite, but they hadn’t had any heirs, and the property had reverted back to the state. Jay vaguely remembered her mother harping about it back when she ran with the historical society. They had come here as a family for some kind of fundraiser, though she couldn’t remember the details now.

Arthur smiled at them as they walked up from Nicholas’s car. This was a far cry from the white wedding she had envisioned—she had imagined something big, and white, and floral, with an audience packed with nebulous friends. Dreams filtered down through her mother, who had conflated pomp with affection and had often left her own daughter starved at that glittering buffet.

The handpicked flowers and plastic champagne glasses were so oppositional to his grandiose tastes, that Jay knew he had selected both especially for her. Maybe that was part of being in love: finding someone who made you feel brave enough to be the person you couldn’t be alone, and who forgave you for what you did when you were.

“You still should have told me,” she said aloud, giving Nicholas a stern frown.

“I should have told you.” Nicholas took her hand, turning it over in his larger one before raising it to his lips. “But it’s not easy to think about anything else when you look like that.”

Jay felt a traitorous blush rise up her throat. “That’s not going to work on me.”

He nipped gently at her fingertips, letting his eyes drop to where her breasts swelled rather indecently over the low neck of the dress. “It’s not?”

She yanked her hand back, folding it into her skirts as he tugged her towards the city hall building with a grin as her face overheated beneath the spring sunshine.

“Congratulations,” Arthur said, as they approached. “Jay, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she said, adjusting her grip on the flowers. She wondered what he was thinking, how much of their interactions he had seen. This had to be strange for him.

“She always does.” Nicholas gave her hand a squeeze.

Standing between these two men, with Nicholas holding tightly onto her hand, made her feel very shy and very young. Which was ridiculous. She was almost thirty-two. She wasn’t all that much younger than Arthur.

“Thank you, Nick.”

Nicholas tilted his head towards the doors. “Shall we?”

“Yes, let’s.” Arthur gestured in front of him. “You two go ahead. I’ll get the door for you.”

Jay shifted her grip to Nicholas’s arm, which was firm and solid beneath the wool suit. She could feel his heart pounding against her forearm which surprised her. He didn’t appear outwardly nervous.

She was pretty sure she did.

He glanced down and looped his other arm around her waist. When she felt him casually stroke her hip through the thin, rustling silk, she felt so lightheaded that the officiant’s words seemed to come at her through a tunnel when he stepped forward to greet them. She had already forgotten his name, and he had to tell her three times where to sign her own.

“Just put your name here,” he said, a little exasperatedly. “Right on the X.”

She gripped the pen extra hard to steady her shaking hand. Nicholas’s signature was right above hers and it surprised her how messy his handwriting was, given how precise he was about everything else. Hers was the stiff cursive she’d been forced to learn all the way back in grade school, when they were still being fed the lie that it would be used in college.

Nicholas, who was four years younger, had never been taught cursive in school.

“Good afternoon,” the officiant said. “We are gathered here today to join Nicholas Beaucroft and Justine Varens in the institution of marriage. Do you, Nicholas, take Justine to be your lawful wedded wife?”

“I do.” His pale eyes burned like gas flames, lit up by the high beveled windows. She remembered him telling her that he was hard to read but his solemn expression still surprised her. He didn’t look like a man who was on the verge of getting everything he wanted.

“And do you, Justine,” the officiant said, turning towards her, “take Nicholas to be your lawful wedded husband?”

“Yes,” she choked, widening her eyes so the tears forming there wouldn’t spill over. “I do.”

“And do you, Arthur Hartwell, give your consent that these two be married on this day?”

“I do,” Arthur said.

“Then by the authority given to me by the State of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Nicholas, you may kiss your bride.”

That was all the prompting he needed to lean in and give her the sort of kiss that would have raised eyebrows in a church, nearly forcing her backwards in his eagerness. Jay fell into it, until she remembered where they were, and that her boss was standing right fucking there .

“Oh,” she said, pulling away, and covering her chafed and reddened lips with her hand.

“Sir,” the officiant said, stumbling a little over his words as he turned to direct his speech to Arthur, who had politely averted his gaze to a placard announcing the date of the building’s construction, “it is now my privilege to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Beaucroft.”

“Nice to meet you, Jay,” he said, and the cheesy joke diffused the tension, making her laugh with weak relief after the jarring erasure of her maiden name.

After some final paperwork and a clumsy shaking of hands all around, they were free to leave. She was married. I’m his. She looked down at the strangled flowers in her hands: her trembling grip had reduced them to wilted stems. She couldn’t believe that the fight was over so quickly.

Or that it had been so bloodless.

“That was faster than I thought it would be.” Arthur caught up to them at the door, echoing her thoughts. “Since I already told my wife I would be late, I would love to take you two out to dinner—although I’d understand completely if you would prefer to celebrate alone tonight.”

Jay’s face flushed. Is he implying—

“No, thank you,” Nicholas said, which made her face burn hotter. “But we’ll take a raincheck.”

“My wife’s been dying to meet the man who makes me late for dinner every night. I spend so much time at the office, she calls you the son I never had.” His cheeks reddened a bit beneath the whiskers, like he hadn’t meant to say so much. “Thank you for asking me to be part of your day.”

“You did me a favor.” Nicholas ran his fingers over Jay’s arm. “I should be thanking you.”

Watching him leave, Jay said, “I can’t believe your father hired him.”

“He was only a manager when I took over,” Nicholas said. “He was one of the first people I promoted.”

“No wonder he’s so loyal to you.” Jay put her hands on Nicholas’s—her husband’s —shoulders and stretched to brush a kiss over his mouth. On the sidewalk across the street, someone on a bicycle slowed to stare but Jay made herself ignore them, straightening his lapel. “You chose well.”

“You’re blushing.”

“Yes, because your CFO implied that you might be too busy deflowering me to get dinner.”

“He didn’t mean it that way. He’s just being nice.” Nicholas ran his thumbs over the outer edges of her neckline. “And I’ve already deflowered you.” His fingers ran down her sides, making her suck in. “Your heart’s pounding. I can feel it through your dress.”

Jay gave him a defiant look. “Yes, well, to be fair, so is yours.”

A hint of color appeared on his cheekbones— is he embarrassed? Jay wondered. “I don’t get married every day.” Turning from her, much to her bemusement, he opened the door, waiting until she’d gathered the skirts of her dress to her body. “Have some more champagne. It’ll just go flat.”

Jay let him refill her glass with far too much wine, too flustered to worry about whether anyone could see. Her ring finger still throbbed where he’d twisted the ring off, just to replace it on her finger after they had said her vows. She fiddled with it, turning the little bird back and forth.

“What a day,” she sighed.

“Mm. Did you look at your ring?”

“Yes, it’s very nice.” She hoped he wasn’t about to tell her how much it cost.

“I meant the inside. I had it engraved.”

“With what?”

“Take a look.”

As Nicholas peeled out of the lot, Jay twisted the ring off again, wincing at the gouge of the tiny diamond-studded wing. When she held the silver band to her face, she could see faint words etched inside. She squinted, bracing her elbows on her knees to steady her hands.

“I am no bird, and no net ensnares me. I am a free human being with an independent will.”

“I thought if you still didn’t believe my intentions,” Nicholas said, staring fixedly at the road, “you might believe them coming from your favorite book.”

“I can’t believe you remembered that.”

“It is your favorite,” he said, almost as a question.

God, she felt like she was about to cry again. “ Yes , but that was ages ago. When did you do this? I don’t recall this being here before.”

“The day after we watched the documentary about the planets. That was when I realized that I couldn’t let you go. Not until you fell in love with me. Not unless you agreed to be my wife.” At her stunned silence, he said, “I told you you weren’t forgettable. I’ve been thinking about you every day of my life since you first walked into it.”

He parked the car in the drive while her mind reeled with that revelation, loping around the side to open the door for her the way he always did. They didn’t go through the front door. To her surprise, he led her around the side, past the same lilies, jasmines, and roses that had made up her bouquet, and into the sunroom where she had arranged his mother’s picture on the wicker table.

Nicholas already had his jacket off and had tossed it on one of the chairs as they passed, the way he had so often done with his school jacket as a child. Jay narrowed her eyes at him and he grinned unrepentantly, already loosening his shirt collar. The sight of his tanned skin made her stomach flip, and so did the smile he leveled in her direction.

She could almost imagine the words he’d engraved in her ring burning into her skin.

“Are you going to come upstairs with me, Mrs. Beaucroft?”

The smile widened when she blushed.

“You’re taking the whole white wedding thing rather literally, blue jay. I hope you aren’t going to make me chase you around the bed.”

“ Nick .”

Laughing, he gave her hand a playful tug, drawing her up the stairs with him. He was almost giddy. She had never seen him like this. Even as a child, he had always seemed subdued, as if he thought any hint of joy would cause the moment to be stolen from him. Now, happiness lit up his eyes and gave his face a softness she hadn’t seen in years.

I could fall in love with this man , she thought. I could fall and fall and never stop.

Without being any less dazed, a flicker of terror crashed through her stupor like lightning.

The master bedroom had been cleaned—by him, she assumed, unless he’d hired someone. A melting bucket of champagne sat on the nightstand. She recognized the brand, and turned to look at him in shock. “How did you set all of this up so quickly?”

“I drove over here on my lunch break.” Making work of the rest of his shirt buttons, his dress shirt fluttered around him as he walked to his expensive stereo and pressed “play.” Jay braced herself for hard rock and was therefore surprised when one of the old songs she used to dance to began to play instead. “Dance with me.” He held out his hand. “This time, no one’s watching.”

Every doubt and fear she’d ever had slammed against her all at once as his fingers closed over hers and he spun her towards him with an ease that made her feel nearly weightless in his arms—as if she were some precious, fleeting thing that might disappear without his grip to tether her to this realm any longer. It was a covetous embrace he held her in, with the scarcest amount of restraint, and when she leaned into him and braced her hand against his bare chest, his fingers tightened over hers as if that restraint was as fragile as her will to resist.

All those nights that she had cried herself to sleep, she had longed for a love like this—a love so big that it consumed her entire world. But love like that was terrifying, and when it had finally fallen into her lap she had fought, and fought, and fought, because being consumed meant losing parts of yourself that were no longer yours to keep, and reconciling with the emptiness left behind.

But now there was only Nick— her Nick—swelling to fill up those empty spaces in her aching soul, and she was so fucking tired of fighting.

So she told herself she wouldn’t.

Jay kissed him, cradling his jaw as her fingers spread to lightly trace his ear. The passion between them had always been charged with violence, and this gentleness crackled against her skin like static as the kiss became less sweet, more demanding.

Her hand dropped to his shoulder, thumbing his collarbones, and the hard planes of his chest, before slipping into his waistband to cup him beneath his dress pants.

“Fuck.” He gripped her wrist. “I can’t last if you do that.”

But Jay noticed he didn’t pull her hand out. Pressing against him, she said, “I need you, Daddy.”

With a snarl, he lifted her up and dropped her onto the bed, stepping back to shrug out of his shirt before working the placket of his pants with fingers made clumsy by his haste.

“If you’d said that to me back then,” he said, stepping out of his pants and walking towards her nude, “I would have been your slave.”

Jay scooted back on his bed, heedless of how it made her skirt ride up. “I wouldn’t have wanted that. Love shouldn’t make people into prisoners.”

“Always the proverbial good girl.” Getting on his hands and knees, he slowly prowled up her body until he was straddling her thighs. “I hope you don’t plan on fucking me like one.”

“I’m only as good as you make me.”

“I see.” He smoothed his callused palms over her thighs before shoving them apart. “Then don’t be.” Hooking his fingers in her underwear, he yanked hard enough that she felt the fabric catch and weaken before they ripped. “I like you begging and slutty.”

The current of air between her legs made her gasp.

And then, so did his tongue.

She was forced to grip the headboard as he gave her the sort of kiss that wouldn’t have been suitable for any sort of ceremony at all.

“Tell Daddy your new name,” he whispered between her legs, as she trembled over that precipice of mindless, breathtaking desire. “I want to hear it again.”

“Justine Beaucroft.”

With a low, satisfied rumble, he swung onto her hips and entered her on a hard stroke. He seemed to take the recoil of her body as a fight, because he pinned her hands down beside her face on the next thrust and held them there. The dying light coming in through the window sparked off her wedding ring in a flash of red as her fingers spread open beneath his.

“You’re mine,” he said, looking down at her.

Jay looked up at his handsome face and faltered, her staggered breathing a match for the pace he was setting with each rock of his hips. “And you’re mine,” she said, as a slight question.

He bent to kiss her; she could taste herself on his tongue as he took her mouth the way he had taken everything else: in a single violent sweep. His fingers laced more tightly with hers, and his heart was beating against his chest like it wanted to crawl right into her own.

“I always have been.”