Page 31

EPILOGUE

NICOLETTE

W hen Royce told me to pack for a weekend getaway, I didn’t hesitate.

It’s been a month since everything happened with Kieran. Sometimes, I’m surprised at how quickly it went from the end of March to the knocking on May’s door. It feels like I blinked and, suddenly, the time was gone.

It’s a stress response. I know that. From the trauma of being assaulted by Kieran again, followed by the absolute relief that slammed into me when I watched Royce blow that sick bastard away. He doesn’t think I saw it. He believes that—thanks to my broken nose and busted eye—I was too out of it to witness the five seconds that changed my life.

I let him. My protective lover—and former stalker—has always wanted to save me anyway he could. To spare me from watching him execute my abuser… it’s better if Royce thinks that I didn’t gasp in gratitude as I watched as the first bullet found its home in Kieran’s chest before the relief—the absolute relief — had me crying the first tears I shed since my twisted ex abducted me.

A little white lie for my white knight.

I don’t really remember a lot about what happened after he was dead. One moment, Royce was squeezing me to him, making promises that fluttered into my ear, then out again. I clung right back, like he was a mirage that would disappear if I so much as closed my eyes.

But I did. I’m not sure why, only that it wasn’t my choice. When I woke up again, I was stretched out in the back seat of a car, lying on Royce’s lap. He was stroking my hair with trembling fingers. He didn’t stop when he noticed me quirking open my good eye, only gave me that crooked half-smile of his before telling me that I was safe.

This time, he was right. Even as I drifted back to sleep—or unconsciousness—I looked up into those blue eyes and knew that, with Royce McIntyre, I will always be safe.

There’s no more pretending I haven’t moved into his place. After Devil’s driver, Luca, brought us back to Paradise Suites—and the leader of the Sinners Syndicate himself drove Royce’s car home for him—he carried me into his apartment and, for the next few weeks, I didn’t leave. One of the local doctors on the syndicate’s payroll gave me pain pills that had me flying before resetting my nose and patching up the rest of me. I wasn’t trapped with Kieran long enough to do that much damage, though A for effort, asshole, considering how much he worked me over in such a short amount of time.

I’m on leave from the Playground. Royce promised that I could go back when I was feeling better. I didn’t push it because a) I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still a little shaky from being assaulted twice in two weeks and b) the double shiners and obviously broken nose might buy me some sympathy, but it was better to wait to pull my uniform back out until the bruises finally faded.

The last of the mottled green and yellow skin is hidden under a face of make-up tonight. It’s the last bit of physical evidence left from Kieran’s attack, and while I know the emotional wounds will take longer to heal, having this weekend with Royce is a starting point.

The man’s a fucking Godsend. I wake up each morning, wrapped in his arms, wondering how the hell I got this lucky. And maybe, when I was still doped up on pain meds, I might’ve mentioned that if he’s sticking around because he feels guilty about what happened, he quickly proves me wrong.

If anything, Royce blames himself for not being there in time to keep Kieran from doing what he did. Bullshit. I knew when I started this thing with Royce that he was a high-ranking member of the syndicate. Now I know just how high he is in the organization. There will be times when he has to do his job. I get that.

I also know that, if I’d listened to Ava and not tried to prove that I was meaningless in the grand scheme of things, I wouldn’t have gotten caught by Kieran. So sure that Royce was going to get tired of me and move along like he’s done with every other woman before, I stubbornly clung to the one thing I recovered after my time with my ex: my defiant independence.

I’m learning. Just like Ava did, and the other wives and girlfriends. In the Libellula Family, women were property. In the Sinners Syndicate? I only have a few examples to go by, but they’re treated a hell of a lot better on the West Side than on the East End. They might be possessive and overprotective, but every moment I spend with Royce, I feel appreciated, too.

Loved.

Worshiped .

And it’s fucking amazing.

This impromptu trip is one example. He just woke me up with a kiss this morning, asked me if I was up to taking a quick flight, and grinned wickedly when I told him I was. I didn’t even have to pack. He did that himself, a suitcase for him, one for me, and a large black bag that hung from a hanger that he loaded into the limo.

Devil let us borrow Luca again. He drove us to the small hangar where the syndicate has its own private plane, murmuring something to Royce as he got out to help retrieve our luggage from the back. Royce had another smile for Luca as he accepted the hanger from him, and then we were off.

It was a three-hour flight that went very quickly once we were allowed to move about and my lover pointed out the bed. Seriously. Devil’s private plane had a bed on it, with clean sheets that were more than a little rumpled by the time we were touching down again in…

Las Vegas.

I don’t know that that is where we are until I’m sitting next to Royce in a car waiting for us at the airport we flew in at. It’s a rental, which makes me question his “spur of the moment” excuse when I think about flight plans for the private plane and available rental cars that he could get at a moment’s notice.

He claims it’s part of being a fixer. No matter what, he can get his hands on anything, and if his eyes slide over to the large, black bag hanging on the grab bar behind the driver’s seat… well, I was definitely curious.

Then we drove forty minutes through the desert before eventually passing the iconic Welcome to Las Vegas sign. My heart rate kicked up as I saw the neon lights of the Strip for the first time, but Royce barely reacted to the glitz and glamour of it all.

Figured. A habitual gambler who was good at it, plus access to his boss’s private plane… this probably isn’t his first trip to Vegas. He confirms it when I ask, but then, in that sly way he has, says, “But I’ve never been where we’re going.”

Color me intrigued. Leaning back against the leather interior of the flashy car he rented, I alternated between gaping at the various buildings, casinos, and people I saw and trying to get a good read on Royce’s features.

Damn poker face. He’s not giving anything away.

It’s another twenty-five minutes, thanks to the congestion; it’s about nine by the time we pull off the main road, following the GPS on his phone to a crowded parking lot. Luckily, we find a spot, and if I have no idea why this one particular lot is so important, I go with it.

“Don’t worry about the luggage,” Royce says, pocketing the car keys. “We won’t need that until the hotel.”

Okay. So we’re not at the hotel.

Hmm.

I wait in my seat as Royce climbs out. I learned my lesson about allowing my chivalric gangster to open my door for me. It’s such a small thing for me, but it makes him happy to do it, so why not?

He’s holding onto the black bag’s hanger with one hand, offering me the other to help me out of my seat.

At my curious look, Royce chuckles. “This we will need, Nic. Trust me. I did my research. It’s better if we bring our own.”

Yeah… he’s really got me stumped now—and I stay that way as he throws his arm over my shoulders, tucking me into his side, and guiding me down one street, then another.

Within a couple of minutes, I’m staring up at two words made up of block letters and shining light bulbs: WEDDING CHAPEL .

I blink. Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t change what I’m seeing, either.

It’s hard to tear my stare away from the entrance to the sandstone-colored building. I do, though, and— wham —now I’m looking at a gaudy sign that looks like it belongs in front of a shopping center. It also says ‘Wedding Chapel’ on it, with a drawing above it. Then, above that , are three worlds written in a thick, italic font:

Viva Las Vegas

I’m a big musical freak. That doesn’t just extend to Broadway and showtunes. Any media that has singing and dancing in it will catch my attention. I’ve watched plenty of classic Elvis films—mainly because of my affection for musicals, and my mom’s affection for Elvis… who got it from my grandma—so I’m familiar with Viva Las Vegas, both the song and the movie.

They get married in that movie.

Over my stunned silence, I hear a zipper being tugged down. I spin back in time to see Royce opening up what I realize now is obviously a dry-cleaning bag…

“Holy shit,” I whisper. “That’s a wedding dress.”

“Correction, Nic. This is your wedding dress.”

My mouth falls open.

Royce pushes aside the garment bag, showing off the dress inside. Which is, quite obviously, a wedding dress. It’s more than, though, as I take in some of the details. I don’t know how he fit it in that bag. Once free of it, I see the thick, ruffled skirt, the intricate bodice, the close sleeves that end in even more ruffles, and I know exactly what I’m looking at.

It’s a replica of Christine’s wedding dress, the one the Phantom forces her to wear during the finale of the Broadway show.

Which means it really is my wedding dress, isn’t it?

Moving into me, Royce hoists up the dress, measuring it against my body. His smile has a self-satisfied edge to it as he nods. “Just like I thought. It should be a perfect fit.”

“How did you… where did you… what— why ?”

“Remember, Nic, I’m intimately aware of every inch of your body. It was a snap to figure out the right size for you. As for why… that’s pretty obvious, don’t you think? A bride deserves the wedding dress of her dreams for her special day. Night. You know what I mean.”

I think I do. “Are you trying to tell me we’re eloping ?”

Royce nods. “Did I ever mention that, when I was a kid, I looked up to Link? To Devil?”

I have no idea where he’s going with this, but I nod.

“Think of this like me following his lead again. He had a wedding just for him and Ava to make sure she was his. After that, he did the whole she-bang. Church wedding, tons of guests. Big reception down at the Playground. I thought he got it right. Tonight’s for us. Tonight I make you mine officially. You want to get hitched at St. Pat’s and invite your mom and your friends? We can do that this summer. But I wasn’t waiting any longer than I had to to keep you, Nic.” He reaches out, brushing his thumb along the height of my cheek where the whispers of my bruises are. “Just long enough for you to heal a little.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

“I do.” His blue eyes gleam beneath the shining lights of the sign. “Say ‘yes’.”

Yes .

It’s not even a question. Do I love Royce McIntyre? Of course I do. Would I give anything to be his wife? Yes.

But am I going to bust his chops a little?

Oh, definitely.

“‘Yes’ to what?” I ask him. “You didn’t ask me anything.” When Royce arches his eyebrows, I prod a bit more. “Like, I don’t know, something about if I’ll marry you.”

“And risk you thinking you can refuse? Yeah, right.”

I can’t help it. I laugh.

You think I wouldn’t. I spent years trapped in a relationship when I was expected to do what I was told, and I couldn’t refuse anything . Even joking—and I’m not so sure Royce is joking—I’d be punished if I did.

But I don’t have to worry about that with Royce. So it’s only been a couple of months. So I’m going to have to hide the fact that I eloped with him until after I get that big church wedding he’s talking about, otherwise I’ll break my mother’s heart. That’s nothing new—but the way I feel about Royce is. The way he makes me feel when I’m around him is.

If I laughed at Kieran, he’d slap me. But Royce?

He grips the back of my neck before I even see him move. With a gentle squeeze, my head tilts up, giving him full access to my mouth. He swallows the last of the laugh with his kiss, turning it deeper until I’m clutching at his suit jacket.

Royce pulls back first, though he doesn’t let go of me with his free hand. The other is hanging on to the wedding dress for dear life as he bows his head, pressing his forehead to mine.

“There’s no asking, Nic. Far as I’m concerned, you’re already my wife. I’ve thought of you as such since… well, fuck. I can’t really tell you how long it’s been. The beginning, maybe? When I was sitting at the table with that fucker, watching Julio look over his shoulder so he could signal what cards he has… you were already mine.”

Hang on?—

Signal what cards he has…

I gasp, jerking back just enough so that I can get a good look at his full face. “You did cheat!”

“Correction,” he says again, a hint of a tease to his voice as he straightens. “I’m a Sinner, baby. I always play to win.”

And then, as if to prove it, he gives the perfect wedding dress just enough of a shake for the wind to catch and carry the ruffles.

“You’re serious. You… you brought me here to get married?”

“Yes, and we don’t have much time. Our reservation is at ten. They were very clear. Miss it and we lose out.” A small shrug, and again the dress is beckoning me. “Money talks in Vegas, but they have their own syndicates here. I can’t expect them to fall at my feet and do what I tell them because I work for the devil of Springfield.”

This time, I snicker. “Poor thing.”

Royce sniffs. “I know. It’s a hardship, but what are you gonna do? Besides, Devil only gave me the weekend away. He has Killian standing in for me while we’re gone, but two days is about his limit. He needs us back. Ava, too.”

“Her baby shower is next week,” I remember. And she’s so close to popping, I hope we get to have it. “I can’t miss it.”

“We won’t. We’ll get the whole weekend to celebrate getting married, then once things settle down back home, you can pick what we do next. A big wedding where I can show you off… a destination thing where it’s just you and me, Devil, Ava, and I can meet your mom… a honeymoon for me and you and that’s it… you decide.”

“Really?” It feels so good to be able to let sarcasm slip into my tone instead of policing it. “Little ol’ me gets to pick?”

“Hey. Marriage is a compromise.”

He sounds so put-upon, I can’t even be annoyed at his heavy-handedness; after all, I knew what I was getting into when he admitted to being my stalker… and I stayed. And that’s why, all sarcasm gone, I smile up at him instead: “So long as I marry you first, right?”

“You got it.” Then, as if Royce honestly believes I need a little more convincing, he adds, “Did I also mention that the best part of this place is that it has themed weddings? I found one that has a theater-style stage, fog, props, and a sound system so I can crank out whatever showtune you want to walk down the aisle to… so long as you’re walking right to me.”

Holy. Shit.

I don’t say it out loud this time. I can’t. His thoughtfulness has temporarily struck me speechless. Sure, he arranged all of this without consulting me at all—or, you know, asking me—but, for the first time in my life, I feel seen. I feel loved .

My silence has him taking a step back of his own, watching me closely. After a few seconds, he clears his throat. “What do you think? It’s better than saying ‘I do’ in the middle of the night in a crooked judge’s office, yeah?”

Definitely.

I know what he’s referring to, too. During one of my chats with Ava, she brought up her first wedding. I already knew she had two—with the second one coincidentally happening the day she discovered she was pregnant—and if Royce wants to follow Devil’s lead there, that’s fine with me.

Especially since, instead of getting married in a judge’s office, he brought me all the way to Vegas to do a quickie wedding in the Viva Las Vegas Wedding Chapel where I can be the star of the show with my gorgeous husband-to-be standing beside me.

I think someone needs to pinch me because I might just be dreaming.

I can’t believe this is happening. I want so badly to snatch that dress from him, tell him to lead the way, then find out if it really is a perfect fit for me. So my hair’s not done. So my make-up probably wore off during our in-flight entertainment. I didn’t bother re-doing my face after I cleaned up in the tiny bathroom on the plane, but when Royce looks at me in the Vegas lights, I feel like the most beautiful creature alive.

And he wants to marry me.

I nod at his pockets. I shouldn’t, but that doesn’t stop me from saying, “Aren’t you going to flip your coin? Heads we do this, tails we don’t?”

He rigs his tosses. Depending on which one he picks will tell me exactly how he feels about this.

Only…

Royce pulls one from his pocket. I can’t tell if it’s the one with a pair of heads or a pair of tails, and I don’t get the chance to see before he palms it. It’s gone in the next moment, his right hand free to gently cup the edge of my jaw.

“When it comes to forever with you, Nic, I won’t leave that up to chance.”

My heart swells inside of my chest. He couldn’t have given me a better answer. “‘All I Ask of You.’”

His brow furrows.

I grin. “That’s what I want to walk down the aisle to. ‘All I Ask of You’ from Phantom .” Reaching out, I run my finger down the silky material of the nearest sleeve. “Fitting, right? With the dress?”

“So it’s a ‘yes’ then? You’ll marry me?”

As if there was any doubt about that .

I slide my hand from the dress, laying my palm over his chest.

Over his heart .

“Like you said. Sinners play to win.”

He might have won me in a bet. But me?

I got the biggest prize.

I got Royce McIntyre as mine—and as the opening chords to Christine and Raoul’s promise to each other lead me toward my forever with him, I’m not sure if I ended up with the possessive stalker or the golden savior… but it doesn’t matter.

He’s both, and like the dress he brought for me, that’s perfect .