Even if I loved her and she loved me.
Getting married for all the wrong reasons.
Only… how could staying alive be bad?
Chapter 32
Julia
After Isobel left, Quentin stayed in his office. I wanted to know what she’d said, but decided to give him some space. He had just told me he loved me, so I needed to have a little more confidence in him.
Serenity came in and I was eager to show her the rosary beads. “I have the beads. Are you ready to try reading them?”
“Sure. Let’s go in the conference room.”
We stepped down the hall to a room and Serenity took off her gloves. I handed her the beads and she inhaled sharply before tensing. Her eyes closed and her brows drew together like she was in pain.
A few seconds later, she gasped. Her eyes flew open and the beads fell from her hands.
“What happened? What did you see?”
“A restaurant. You and Quentin having dinner. And then. Gunfire. Blood. Someone screaming.”
“Oh no. We’d better tell Quentin.”
Still shaken, Serenity nodded, and we hurried to Quentin’s office. Stone was there and they stopped talking as soon as we entered.
I pointed at the rosary beads. “Serenity saw something.”
We sat down in front of Quentin’s desk and Serenity explained what she saw. “Blood, gunfire. It was awful. I think you both survive, but it’s close.”
“So we’re okay if we don’t go to that restaurant?” Quentin asked. “Do you know which one it was?”
“Not exactly. But there’s more. I saw you holding documents. Couldn't read what they were, but you were both alive and you had something important. Whatever happens at that restaurant—if you survive it—you'll have what you need to prove Filomena's guilt."
“That’s huge.” I shook my head. “Then maybe we have to go to the restaurant and take the risk.”
“At least we know it’s in the future,” Serenity said. “That helps.”
Stone met Quentin’s gaze and motioned his head toward me. “You should tell her.”
Quentin sighed. “Yeah. Will you two give us a minute?”
After they left, he came to my side and pulled me to his couch. “This isn’t how I wanted to do it, but… Isobel had an idea. I think it’s a good one, but I’m not sure how you’ll feel about it.”
The way he said it sent a shiver down my spine. “What?”
“She thinks we should get married.”
"What?!" I nearly choked on air. Heat flooded my face—shock, anger, hurt, all tangled together.
His hand found mine, squeezed desperately. "Listen. I—I'm messing this up." He took a breath. "I have real feelings for you. Strong feelings, but we've barely known each other a month, so I get it, but under the circumstances, I think it’s a good idea.” His voice softened, "When I propose for real, it won't be like this. There will be a ring. And romance. And it'll be because we both want it, not because a lawyer suggested it."
My heart pounded. "Then what are you talking about?"
Marriage. He said marriage. But not real marriage? What the hell is happening right now?
Over the next hour, Quentin explained Isobel's proposal. A legal marriage—on paper—that would give me certain protections. Spousal privilege. Legal standing. A shield against both our families if things went sideways.
