As if from the first moment his mother had held him he had sensed that once she put him down his father would raise his fists to her.
And yet part of him had always craved the softness.
Because it had been there. In his life, for a moment. Just a glimmer of light in his youth that had otherwise been a horrendous log of pain.
His mother. The light shining out in all of it.
He wondered if that was why he had been so drawn to Liliana. Not because she reminded him of his mother. Not even a little. But because he sensed she had that kind of light that might cut through the kind of darkness he lived in.
But he knew how that ended.
He knew it well.
Karina had not been an innocent, and so he had imagined he might be able to hold her, at least for a while.
But there had been an innocence caught between them. Caught in the darkness of their marriage. A chance at light that had been extinguished before it had ever truly burned.
Their unborn child. Another sliver of hope, of promise, held before him and then cruelly extinguished.
He gritted his teeth, and he did his best not to think of any of it.
Not now. Not now when the most beautiful creature in all of God’s creation was floating on a cloud toward him. If there was happiness to be had for a man like him, it was fleeting. And this moment might well be it.
“Happy wedding day,” he said.
Her eyes met his. “Yes.”
She sounded detached. Slightly dazed. But she had put on the gown, and she was here. He did not require her to be enthusiastic about it.
“Shall we?”
“Where are we...?”
“I’ll show you.”
He reached his hand out to hers, and this time, he had no gloves on. This time, when she took it, the soft, delicate skin of her hand met with the callused skin on his. It was like lightning, and he knew that she felt it.
She was silk. He wanted to touch her everywhere.
He voiced none of this.
He simply led her out the front door and walked her across the silent grounds. Mist clung to the grass, to the tops of the trees, and she didn’t speak as they walked.
They cut through the trees and made their way to the edge of the cliff side, the ocean raging down below. The priest was already there, his expression one of utter neutrality. He had been paid to perform the ceremony. Not to have an opinion on the ceremony itself.
If he sensed that it was a strange arrangement, he did not say.
Diego looked down at Liliana’s left hand then and noticed that she was still wearing his brother’s ring.
He gritted his teeth but said nothing as the two of them took their positions in front of the priest.
He began to speak, delivering the standard words for the marriage ceremony. Standard vows, which Liliana spoke without meeting his gaze.
For his part, he spoke his without ever looking away.
He had done this before. Had promised this very thing to someone else.
He had kept his vows too. It was just that death had come much sooner than he had anticipated.
But the fact he’d done this before only made it more essential he keep his eyes fixed on Liliana. That he not look away. That these words be for her, and her alone.
“Do you have rings?” the priest asked.
“Yes.” Another purchase he’d made before he’d actually taken his bride. He had been confident they would end up here.
He reached out and took hold of her hand, and she looked down at the ring that was there. Diego slipped it from her finger. He held it up to the light, letting both her and the priest take a long look at the glittering diamond ring that was no doubt worth a small fortune for men who did not possess the wealth he and his brother did.
Then he hurled the gem into the sea.
“I have my own rings.”
He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a long velvet box. He opened it, and inside was a set of rings. Both made from a dark metal that had been twisted into ornate knots around the band. His was plain beyond that, while hers had a simple band and a second ring that was set with large, square-cut diamonds. He slipped both rings onto her finger.
Like turning the key in a lock. She was his now.
His wife.
Liliana was his wife.
Then he held the box toward her, offering her his ring.
She took it out delicately, and then with trembling fingers slipped it onto his.
He cast the box to the ground and, without waiting for instruction, pulled her into his arms and sealed their vows with a kiss that burned him all the way down.
“Your services are no longer required,” Diego said to the priest, then added, “Bless you, Father.”
The older man nodded, and Diego seized his bride’s hand and began to lead her back toward the house.
“What was that?” she asked as he rushed her back toward the house.
“What?”
“Why? Why the rings? Why all...this? Why did we get married there? Why do I have the dress?”
“It was a wedding,” he bit out. “What would you have had us do? Wear sweatpants and sit in a recliner?”
“There was no one there,” she continued. “No one there but a priest. And now it’s over. I don’t understand what the point of all the ceremony was.”
Because he’d wanted it. And he didn’t know how to say that. He didn’t even know how to justify it to himself. He was not in the habit of justifying things to himself. If he wanted them, he took them. He had wanted to see her dressed as a bride. He had wanted to see her in this gown. He wanted to have a ring that matched hers, so he would know even when they were apart that she belonged to him. He had wanted to say vows, real vows, not simply sign a piece of paper. He had wanted to be married in the eyes of the church, because he was Catholic enough to feel it wasn’t real if that were not the case.
He did not want to think about why those things were. And he did not want to have to give reasons for them. Not to her, not to himself and not to anyone.
Particularly not now that he had agreed to a temporary term on the marriage. He just wanted. With a blinding, endless desire, and had done so since the first moment he had met her. He had thought that this might make it stop. Had thought that this might make it feel the way that he needed to.
But the need was the same. Maybe once he had her...
He stopped walking, stood with her there in the middle of the mist-covered ground. “You’re mine,” he said. “For as long as it takes, you’re mine.” For as long as it took for his grandfather to give him his portion of the inheritance. For as long as it took for this need in him to go away. “I wanted there to be no doubt about that. I wanted you to feel like my bride. Do you?”
“If I had married Matías there would have been a party. My father would have been there. My friends. I would have chosen my dress. And then...”
“And then you would have gone back to his room, spent your wedding night with him. Is that your regret?”
She said nothing.
“You did not marry him,” Diego continued. “You have married me. And this is
the wedding that I wanted.”
“I don’t understand why you care about the wedding at all.”
“Because you’re mine.” It was all the reason he was going to give. And he’d give it as many times as she needed to hear it.
“You’re a bit crazy—do you know that?”
“Creepy. Crazy. Again, I’m not sure why you imagine I would be bothered by such things.” He took her hand and began to walk again. “What I know about life, tesoro, is that things slip through your fingers easily. As do people. Whatever chains I can put around you to keep you with me, I will do. Never doubt that.”
“Until the end,” she said softly. “We agreed.”
“So we did. You cannot back out now,” he said. She was his. She was his. She was his. He owned her now, until the end when he sold her back to herself.
He could do exactly what he wanted with her. She had agreed. He could take her straight back into the house and rip that dress from her body as had been his original fantasy. He could. There would be no one to stop him. Least of all her. She wanted him. He knew that she did. The way that she responded to his touch, to his kiss told him everything he needed to know. Forget a wedding night, he could have a wedding morning if he so chose.
But he found he did not want it.
He had bound her to him in the deepest way possible. He had procured a priest, of all things. They were bound not just by the laws of men but by the laws of God. It did not feel like enough. No. It would not be enough until his bride begged him. Until she came to him. And then... Then he would brand her in a way that she would never forget. But he would not allow her to spin tales of how Matías would have given her a gentle and respectful wedding night. Of how she would have had a more civilized groom and a grander wedding. No. There would be no regrets. There would be no comparisons.
She would beg. He would have her beg.
“I just require one thing from you,” he said.
She went stiff, and he knew exactly what she imagined he might ask for next. “You must call Matías and tell him that you’ve married me. That you do not wish to leave me.”
He took out his cell phone and held it toward her. “That’s all?”