Page 35 of Until She’s Mine

Evelyn

Six Months Later

“ A re we really doing this?” I ask, looking at the New York City Hall building through the tinted windows of our town car.

The morning sun casts sharp shadows across the stone steps, where a handful of couples already linger in their finest attire—brides in white lace, grooms fidgeting in stiff suits.

Lucian’s fingers tighten around mine, his thumb tracing slow circles over my knuckles. My engagement ring catches the light.

“Unless you’ve changed your mind.” His other hand brushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

I roll my eyes. “Not a chance.”

There is this or a grand society wedding that would make headlines and invite scrutiny, but we’ve both had enough of the spotlight. Lucian suggested it first, his voice calm and steady as he outlined the benefits of a quiet ceremony at City Hall.

“No paparazzi, no guest list negotiations, no speeches,” he’d said. “Just us.”

And that’s what I wanted. Just us. No pretenses, no expectations.

The driver opens the door, and Lucian steps out first, offering me his hand.

His suit is a deep charcoal, perfectly tailored to his frame, and the crisp white of his shirt contrasts sharply with his tanned skin.

He looks every inch the powerful man he is—controlled, composed, and utterly devastating.

I take his hand and let him guide me out of the car, my heels clicking against the pavement. The dress I’ve chosen is a simple and sleek ivory sheath that clings to my curves without being ostentatious. It’s understated elegance, much like the man standing beside me.

Inside City Hall, the air is cool and smells faintly of cleaning products and old paper.

Lucian doesn’t let go of my hand—not when we climb the steps, not when we pass through the metal detectors, not even when we take our place in line behind a pair of giggling teenagers who keep sneaking kisses between nervous glances at their paperwork.

When it’s our turn, the clerk barely glances up from her computer. “Names?”

“Lucian Blackwood and Evelyn Laurent,” Lucian says smoothly, sliding our documents across the counter.

The clerk’s fingers pause on her keyboard.

Her eyes flick up, taking in Lucian’s expensive suit, my designer dress, the way we stand together like we own the very air around us.

Recognition dawns slowly across her face—the Blackwood name carries weight even here, in this fluorescent-lit government building.

“Of course, Mr. Blackwood. Clerk Chen is ready for you in Chamber Three.”

The ceremony room is small but dignified, with dark wood paneling and an American flag standing sentinel in the corner. The officiant Chen, a woman in her sixties with sharp eyes and silver-streaked hair, greets us with professional warmth.

“Just the two of you today?” she asks, glancing at the empty chairs meant for witnesses.

“Just us,” I confirm.

The ceremony itself is quick, almost perfunctory. The officiant drones through the standard vows in a monotone voice that would be comical if I could focus on anything but the weight of Lucian’s gaze. His eyes never leave mine, committing every second to memory.

“You may kiss your bride.”

Lucian doesn’t hesitate. His hand slides into my hair, tilting my face up to his as his mouth crashes down on mine.

It’s not a chaste peck for show. It’s deep, claiming, a promise sealed in fire.

A shiver runs down my spine at the possessiveness in it, at the quiet assurance that no matter what happens next, I’m irrevocably his.

Outside, autumn leaves skitter across the pavement in the crisp wind as we step back into the sunlight. Lucian’s arm is around my waist, pulling me close as we descend the steps. For a moment, it feels like we’re the only two people in the world, untouchable and invincible.

“Evelyn Blackwood,” he says. “It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

I tilt my head to look at him, my heart swelling with something I can’t quite name—love, yes, but also something deeper, darker, and more consuming.

“It does,” I say softly, my fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. “Like it was always meant to be.”

His lips curve into a slow, dangerous smile. There’s the predator beneath the polished exterior—the man who would burn the world to keep me safe. “Always.”

In a few months, we’ll have an official ceremony to appease his parents—a grand affair at the Blackwood estate, all crystal chandeliers and carefully orchestrated smiles. But today is ours alone. Just Lucian and me, bound by the vows of marriage.

In sickness and in health. Till death do us part.

Sometimes I look at him and remember what brought us together: Claire’s fall, the secrets, the lies.

But then I open my nightstand drawer and see my pregnancy test, the faint pink lines confirming what I’ve suspected for weeks.

The guilt is still there, but it’s overshadowed by the immense joy of knowing we are creating something new, untouched by the shadows of our past.

I haven’t told Lucian yet. Not out of fear, but because I want to cherish this secret a bit longer, to hold it close before sharing it with everyone.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Lucian already knew. He always seems to be one step ahead, his keen eyes missing nothing. But he hasn’t said a word, hasn’t pressed me. He’s waiting, as he always does, for me to come to him when I’m ready.

“Where to now?” I ask as we reach the car. The driver holds the door open, waiting for us to step inside.

Lucian pauses, his gaze sweeping over me with a heat that makes my breath catch. “My bride deserves a proper honeymoon, doesn’t she?”

I smile, sliding into the car. He follows, his body pressing against mine in the close confines of the back seat. The door shuts with a soft click, sealing us in our own private world.

“Take us to the airport,” Lucian tells the driver, his gaze fixed on me. “You’ve always wanted to see Venice, haven’t you?”

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