DANTE
There’s utter silence. Disbelief.
My brain has short-circuited.
After weeks of me following—alright, stalking—Ruby, she appears in front of half the London Mafia Syndicate and claims we’re married.
And if I’m dreaming, fine, I’m making the best of this moment and fuckingmy wiferight now, before I wake up.
“Everyone leave,” I say, low and dangerous. My voice is dark with emotion. She’s so young, and seeing her surrounded by mafia men, her head tilted up bravely, makes me feral with protectiveness.
Against me. Against my world. She shouldn’t be here.
Giovanni takes one look at my face and barks orders to get cars, and get people into place.
“Clerkenwell, what about—” Westminster, the de facto leader of the London Mafia Syndicate, begins in his upper-class way.
“Later,” I snap. Literally, any time but now, when Ruby is here like all my most secret fantasies come true.
“Not you,” I add as Ruby’s eyes fill with tears and starts to turn on her heel.
I grab her hand and oh god, the physical contact with her makes me lightheaded as I drag her into the house. She doesn’t say anything, keeping pace with my long strides by taking double the number of steps.
For half a second I’m heading for the stairs to take her to my bed.
I come to my senses.
I don’t know why she thinks we’re married, because I’m very certain I’d remember our wedding.
So instead, I march her to my office.
How the hell did this girl look into my innermost private thoughts, and pluck out this? She’s really here. Her little hand in mine, so soft, and it fits right into my palm like two pieces of a jigsaw.
I shut the door behind us, and consider my options. There’s a sofa that looks out onto the garden, where I sometimes sit and think. But that feels dangerously intimate. I’ll have her on my lap in a second if we’re there.
Instead, I release her to pull up a chair in front of my desk, and she sits where I indicate.
Then I take my seat behind the desk and consider her in the silence. Questions I could ask flow into my mind.How are you? If you’re my wife, why aren’t you pregnant yet? How did you know I wanted you? Will you stay? Please, never leave me again, even if I tell you to.
Kiss me.
“What’s this about?” It comes out a bit abrupt.
“I got something in the post,” she says in a small voice, pulling a slightly crumpled document from her pocket and placing it before me.
My hands shake as I pick it up. I honestly don’t know what I’m praying for.
Ruby isn’t a liar. But did she find out that I’ve been watching her? How?
There has to be some mischief at play here. But as I pull the marriage certificate from the envelope, it’s entirely clear. This is all in English, and it’s not what we signed at the wedding. Ruby and I are listed as the bride and groom, and Francesca and her husband are the witnesses.
My heart does some sort of dance that I haven’t felt since I was a kid opening presents from under the Christmas tree.
She’smine.
I stare at the simple piece of paper that has brought her to me in a way I could never have anticipated. I’m not hallucinating, and it does seem real.
I might never let it go. I’ll never let her go.
