Page 38 of Wicked Sinner

"Everything." He pushes off from the wall, moving closer but not crowding me. "Right now, you're Caesar Genovese's pregnant girlfriend. That makes you a target, but also expendable. But as my wife, as the woman who will give birth to the next generation of the Genovese family, you become all but untouchable. Killing a don's wife is an act of war. Someone who would still come after you is either powerful or insane. Likely, they’ll stop, and we’ll hunt them down. If they don’t, then I’ll have backup. Powerful men can still be taken down, and an insane man will eventually make a mistake. Either way, you’ll be far more protected.”

I consider this, trying to ignore the way my pulse speeds up when he steps closer. "And after? When all of this is settled and the baby and I are no longer in danger?”

He's quiet for a moment, his expression turning guarded. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, this isn't real, Caesar." I turn to face him fully. "Whatever this is between us, it started with a one-night stand and ended with you kidnapping me and holding me prisoner. That's not exactly the foundation for a lasting marriage."

His gaze locks onto mine. “That doesn’t have to be how things are. We can do them differently from here on out. This could be different—”

"No, it can't." I shake my head. "You offered to make me your mistress, and then you made me your captive. No matter how things go now, that won’t have changed. The world you live in won’t have changed, and I won’t be a part of it. I don’t want to live like this, and I don’t want my child growing up like this.

So if we do this—if we get married—it's temporary.

Once you've secured your father's territory and the threat is gone, we get divorced.

I go back to my life, you go back to yours. "

I can see from the look in his eyes that he’s going to argue. “What about our child?”

“We can figure out something. Some kind of custody. I’ll sign away any rights to inheritance, so you can marry someone else and have an heir. I don’t want our child growing up in blood and violence, Caesar. And I don’t want to live in it.”

"Even if I can take care of you? Protect you? Give you everything you could ever want?"

It’s the old, tired argument back again, and I don’t have the energy for it. “Pick, Caesar. I say yes, and this is temporary until I can be safe again. Or I say no, and walk away and figure this out myself.”

I know the latter would mean leaving Miami.

Just the thought makes me want to break down.

But I know I can’t stay here without his protection.

Marrying him and accepting his protection temporarily, until it’s safe, would mean I can keep my life, go back to it when this is over.

Rebuild from where I left off, raise my child in the same place I was raised, with all the memories that I have to share.

I’d agree to marry the devil himself temporarily to not have to leave all that I have left of my father behind for good.

He stares at me for a long moment, and I can see the conflict playing out on his face.

Part of him wants to argue, to try to convince me that this could be more than a business arrangement.

But the other part—the part that's seen how stubborn I can be—knows that pushing will only make me dig in harder.

Caesar lets out a heavy sigh. “Alright,” he says finally, and I can hear the effort that it took for him to agree. “A temporary marriage. But we do it today. No waiting, no putting it off.”

“Fine.” I press my lips together. “But I have terms.”

Caesar rolls his eyes, and for a moment, I see that cocky man who lured me in that night shining through again. “Of course you do.”

“I’m not going to be locked in a room. I get to live here like a normal person.”

“Done,” he says easily, a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Anything else?”

“I get to call Jenny and let her know I’m safe.”

His expression falters, and I glare at him. “Non-negotiable, Caesar. She’s my best friend. The only person I have who cares about me. She’s going to be worried sick and desperate at this point.”

“I care about you—” He breaks off as he sees the expression on my face. “Fine. But you can’t tell her where the penthouse is or any major details.”

I hesitate, but I can see the wisdom in that. “Okay. As long as I get to call her.”

“Anything else?”

“I get to pick my own doctor. Not the mafia’s hired help. I want an OB/GYN I can trust.”

“Alright,” Caesar agrees reluctantly. “But you’ll go to any appointments with security.”

“Okay.” We eye each other from across the small space between us. “That’s all,” I say finally, and Caesar nods.

“I have my own terms,” he says finally. “You stop trying to run away. You listen to me when I tell you what’s dangerous and take my advice.

You don’t leave the penthouse without discussing it with me first. You trust that I’m trying to protect you and our child, and that I know what’s necessary for you to stay safe. ”

It feels like a big ask, after everything.

I draw in a slow breath. “Okay,” I say finally.

“Except—I don’t trust you, Caesar. I don’t think that’s ever going to change.

But I understand that I don’t know anything about this world.

I won’t leave the penthouse without talking to you, and I won’t argue if you tell me I need to do something for my safety. ”

His lips twitch. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

I look at him, thinking about everything that's led us to this moment. Three weeks ago, I was a single woman with no complications beyond keeping my father's shop running. Now I'm about to marry a crime boss to protect myself and my unborn child.

“No,” I agree reluctantly. “I guess it wasn’t.”

—

The wedding happens so fast it makes my head spin.

Within an hour of our conversation, I’m ready to get married—or as ready as I’ll ever be, at least. I choose the dress that I wore out to dinner with Caesar, because it’s the one I think is the prettiest, I tell myself, and not out of any sentimental leaning.

I don’t have any jewelry other than what he bought me for that night, so I put that on as well, with the nude flats.

My leg is aching, and I pop some additional pain medication to get me through standing up for the vows.

We end up back at the same church that Caesar dragged me to that day he tried to get me to say the vows in front of Father Martinez, except this time we walk in the front door and down the aisle together.

The church smells like old carpet and incense, a strangely comforting smell, and if the circumstances were different, I would almost enjoy this.

I was never the type of girl to dream about a big wedding or want something fancy and extravagant.

If this were real, it would be fine for me—a simple wedding just the two of us in a dress I like, and going home together after.

The thought leaves an ache in my chest—I almost wish it were real, just for a moment.

The ceremony itself is brief. Father Martinez reads the vows, with two new security guards, whose names I don’t know, watching this time to act as witnesses for the license.

Caesar produces rings out of nowhere, two thin gold bands that I hadn’t expected, and we exchange them while repeating the words that Father Martinez asks us to parrot.

When Father Martinez asks if I take Caesar to be my husband, I hesitate just long enough for Caesar to give me a sharp look.

"I do," I say finally, and the words feel strange in my mouth.

Caesar's voice is steady when he says his vows, calm and collected. When we get to the part about kissing the bride, he leans in slowly, giving me time to pull away if I want to.

I should. I should tell him we’ve done the part we needed to do. But I can’t make myself move. And he doesn’t stop.

His lips are warm and soft against mine, and for a moment, I forget that this is all just pretend.

For a moment, I’m taken back to that night in my garage, to the scent of oil and warm concrete and the humid Miami night, and a shudder of pleasure ripples through me as I feel Caesar’s mouth against mine again.

Then he pulls back, and reality crashes over me again.

I feel like I’m in a daze as we sign the license. I stare at the gold band on my finger as I scrawl my name, half-thinking it’s going to disappear. It fits perfectly, which is somehow more unsettling than if it had been too big or too small. Like this was always going to happen.

Caesar takes my hand, and I realize it’s time for us to leave. “We can go out to dinner if you like,” he says as we walk out, slowly on account of my leg. “Do something to… celebrate.”

“This wasn’t real.” I look ahead, keeping my voice steady as we walk out of the church. “What’s there to celebrate?”

I feel him flinch next to me. “Alright,” he says finally, and I swear I can hear a flicker of disappointment in his voice. “I’m sure you’re tired, anyway. Let’s go home.”

The penthouse isn’t my home, but he’s right about one thing—I am tired, too tired to argue semantics.

I’m still not fully recovered from yesterday, and I want to be off of my feet.

I don’t say anything else as we walk out to the Ferrari, Caesar opening my door for me to get in before he comes around to slide into the driver’s side and start the engine.

I stare out the window as we drive back, wondering if I should feel different.

I’m someone’s wife now. Temporary or not, the marriage was legal. For now, I’m Bridget Genovese.

“I’m not changing my name,” I say aloud, suddenly, and Caesar looks over at me.

“Since it’s… temporary—” He says the word as if he doesn’t like the sound of it, “I didn’t expect you would.”

“Even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t change it.” I look over at him defiantly, as if expecting him to argue. “Or I’d hyphenate it.”