Confess (Sin City Salvation 1)

Lucian leaned back in his chair and toyed with the ballpoint pen between his fingers. “Your job is to be my wife. That means your nights and weekends will be spent with me. Apart from that, I will have some scheduled activities for you to pursue. There will be downtime when you are free to do as you wish within the parameters of my rules. But I suggest you find a new hobby to keep you occupied if you don’t want to see what you look like in prison orange because your scheming days are over.”

“Obviously.” I rolled my eyes.

“You will have an allowance for clothing and other necessities. During our marriage, you are not to have extracurricular sexual relationships, and you will be required to wear a tracking device at all times.”

“You do realize that there are websites for this kind of thing,” I pointed out. “There are actual women who would love to do this without a fight.”

“I don’t see you putting up a fight now,” Lucian noted.

My heel stopped moving, and I gathered up my purse. “Whatever. Is there anything else I need to know?”

He got up again and walked around the desk, invading my space as he leaned down to grip my chin in his fingers. “Only this, princess. I know you tend to believe you’re always the smartest person in the room but know this. If you fuck with me, I will ruin you.”

I glared at him. He didn’t take his hand off me, so I pried it off myself. “Where do I sign?”

“You can sign our marriage certificate tomorrow. Here at noon.”

“Just like that?”

He nodded. “Just like that.”

Christ, I was going to be married to this asshole tomorrow. I stood and prepared to leave, but he stopped me at the door.

“Oh, and Gypsy?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t expect a honeymoon after that little stunt you pulled in here today. You’ll be cleaning my house for the next week instead.”

SHE SHOWED UP TEN MINUTES late in a black sheath dress with a matching wide-brimmed hat. Appropriately, she looked like she was dressed for a funeral, but it made little difference to me. She couldn’t understand the irony of her wardrobe choice, but I could. Judging by the smirk on her crimson lips, she thought she was getting one over on me already.

The joke was on her.

“I considered you might pull something like this,” I told her when she stepped into my office. “So, you can take a seat and wait until the officiant arrives in twenty minutes.”

“You said noon.” She flopped onto the seat opposite of me and scrubbed at a mark on her glossy red fingernail.

“Indeed, I did.”

She was quiet after that while I continued to work on my laptop, but it didn’t escape my notice that her sister was absent. I had a suspicion she’d throw a colossal fit if she knew what Gypsy was doing, and I wondered what she’d told her.

“Didn’t want your sister here for the occasion?” I asked.

She snorted. “You’d have to physically restrain her if she knew what was going down in here right now. I’d rather just avoid that whole mess, thank you.”

I returned my attention to the screen in front of me, reading over the witness statements in Emmanuel’s case. The preliminary hearing gave me an opportunity to review the prosecutor’s evidence, and I believed I was within reason to file a motion to suppress some of that evidence based on the method of collection. A warrant was never issued, and what the arresting officer deemed probable cause was weak at best.

The prosecutor was pushing hard for a plea, but I already advised Emmanuel I didn’t think it was wise to take it. We both knew there was reasonable doubt, and I intended to prove it. But first, I just needed to get Emmanuel through the coming months and the trial, and I needed to stay healthy enough to see the process through until the end.

“This is like, really romantic,” Gypsy remarked. “What I always dreamed my wedding day would be like.”

I scribbled a note about a witness that I needed to follow up on and returned my attention to my needy future bride. “I can’t imagine you ever dreaming of a wedding. Unless it included a loaded old man who was about to kick the bucket.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re old enough to be my father.”

I smiled. “Does that mean you’re going to call me daddy?”

When her face blanched, I knew I’d hit a nerve with her, but she needed to learn when to keep her mouth shut. This wasn’t about her, and it was a difficult concept for her to grasp. From the time she’d run from California with her sister in tow, Gypsy had made a habit of ensuring she got whatever she wanted at any cost.

Though I was aware of the events that transpired to create this little monster, I knew that regardless of her front, she didn’t want this life. She’d transformed herself from a terrorized child who had nothing into a self-indulgent brat who thirsted for money and vengeance. It was time that she had an authority figure to guide her and, more importantly, to humble her.