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“A wedding gift.” He tosses the black folder on the coffee table next to me. “Open it.”

The photo inside shows the Senator back at the Crucible. He’s gambling, looking like a man ready to give up on life. Losing Paloma cut him deep. Just like I wanted. But now I feel worse than I did when I first got here. Not because I give a shit about the Senator. But because Paloma doesn’t deserve to be tethered to a man like me, someone who can’t love her.

“Father Esposito is on his way up.” Santino sits across from me. “You know, you don’t have to do what the Senator wants. This is your deal. You decide.”

“Not marry her?” I ask.

“Exactly. Or send her back.” He shrugs. “The shame he feels. All that pain. It’s done. It’ll be a while before he recovers from this.” He points at the picture. “You delivered the perfect blow.”

I consider his words, if only because he sounds logical. But the idea of setting Paloma free sends me into a frenzy of jealousy. I have no doubt that if I ever let her go, she’ll run back to her dad and her poor excuse for a boyfriend. Anger fills every inch of me when I think of Paloma standing in the middle of the stage while men raised their paddles. I wanted to kill all of them.

“I can’t let her go,” I confess.

“Why not?” Santino sits back and places his arms on the club chair’s arm rests.

“I just can’t.” I clench my jaw.

The tall double-doors to the study swing open. I glance up then do a double take. Paloma is a vision, regal in that wedding dress with her hair up in a simple twist. Whatever possessed me to hire a designer to make her a dress a couple of weeks ago I’ll never know. Since the moment she signed the contract, I told myself I wouldn’t do this. That I wouldn’t bid on her. Or worse marry her.

But then I saw her standing all alone up on that stage and I lost it. Her father is right on one thing. She’s an innocent. I never should’ve gotten her involved. She deserves a better father. And a better husband than me. Someone who can love her. Someone who can truly set her free. I’m not that man. Even now, I’m fighting the urge to take her away and keep her trapped in a tiny box. I’m no better than the Senator. Isn’t that what he’s done to her all her life? Keeping her tucked away in his mansion?

She enters the room and ambles to the ceremony table Santino’s wife, Luce, set up for the occasion. She looks lost but resigned.

“Archer.” Santino brings me back. “Let me introduce Father Esposito. He’ll be conducting your wedding ceremony tonight.” He furrows his brows then glances down at his watch. “Or morning.”

“Thank you for coming on such short notice.” I shake the priest’s hand.

“I’m here as a favor to Don Buratti.” He nods solemnly.

“Now Father.” Santino wraps an arm around the priest’s shoulder. “It’s not polite to speak ill of the dead. Should we get started?”

I let Santino run the show since he seems to have experience with clandestine weddings. My heart beats fast as I join Paloma at the table. “You’re breathtaking.” I lean toward her, facing forward.

“Can we get on with it?” she says under her breath.

“Of course.” I nod to Father Esposito. “We’re ready.”

“We are gathered here to today to witness the holy matrimony of Tristan Fitzwilliam Archer Sallows and Paloma Honor Davis.” Father Esposito pauses for a bit.

“Skip the objection part. We don’t object,” Santino whispers to Father Esposito.

Father Esposito nods reverently then continues on with a sermon about love, respect and compassion and how those are the pillars for a happy marriage. The whole time, I can’t bring myself to face her because if I had the slightest bit of compassion, love or respect for her father, I wouldn’t be here.

“Do you have the rings?” Father Esposito asks.

“Yes.” Beaming, Luce places one ring on Paloma’s palm and the other on mine.

“Please face each other.” Father Esposito blesses the rings then waits.

I turn first. Paloma takes a few breaths before doing the same. When her golden eyes finally look up at me, I see only fear and regret. I want to ease her nerves and tell her she doesn’t need to fear me, but that would be a lie.

“Do you Tristan Fitzwilliam Archer Sallows take Paloma Honor Davis as your lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death do you part?”

“I do,” I say promptly and slide the gold band on Paloma’s finger as tears roll down her cheeks.

Father Esposito clears his throat. “And do you Paloma Honor Davis take Tristan Fitzwilliam Archer Sallows as your lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death do you part?”

More tears spill down her flawless cheeks as she glances up at me expectantly. What is she thinking? That I’m going to back down now. That after everything I’ve done, I’m going to set her free? Over my dead body.