“Ready?”

Bellamy stares through the door of Silver, the restaurant we’ve rented for the evening.

It’s been ten days of nonstop press interviews and sleepless nights. Half the time, I wake up in the night to find the bed cold and Bellamy out in the living room, hunched over her laptop, aimlessly scrolling through news websites and job postings. Or else she’s just staring out over the skyline, fingertips brushing at her bottom lip.

“I’m just hoping we don’t get dragged out of here by the Secret Service, over something your brother did.”

“Hey.” I nudge her with my elbow. “Don’t be so disrespectful to the president.”

“Sorry,” she says automatically.

“Sweetness, I’m kidding.” She lifts her face to mine. Beneath her makeup, I can see the hint of the dark circles underneath her eyes. “Are you all right?”

“It feels wrong, doesn’t it? Rushing into a wedding like this.”

“Think of it as a performance.”

“I can’t think of it that way.” She puts her hands on my face and drags her palms across my chin, her thumbs over my lips. “And the thing is—when it comes to weddings—” Her body trembles.

“A wedding means a wedding night.” I drop the words into her ear one by one.

Bellamy lets out a short ha, a whisper so pregnant with desire that I have half a mind to tell Jameson we’re leaving right now, fuck the party. But she gets control of herself.

“A wedding means a divorce.” Her words drip with fear and hope and resignation, and my heart cracks in two.

“It kills me to hear you say that.”

It especially kills me to hear her say it now, while we’re standing in the lobby, the Secret Service making a barricade around us. Jameson’s leading ten people, this close to the wedding, and we’re in a pocket of silence in the center of them.

My fiancée shakes her head. “I didn’t mean it.”

“You did. Look at me.”

She looks, and I give her a small smile.

“I know you don’t want it this way. I know you wanted to take control back into our hands. I wanted that too. But Belle, we’re getting married tomorrow.” I put my hands on her waist and draw her close enough to kiss her forehead. “I think we should make it as real as we can.”

She pushes back against me, her eyes going wide. “What?”

“We should make our vows. We should sign the papers.”

“But Graham—”

I kiss her, and her lips part beneath mine. She moans a little, her trembling body going still, her breath shallow and fast. I taste her pain, her hesitation, and I swallow it whole. I swallow it until there’s nothing left.

Her knees buckle under the force of the kiss and I catch her in my arms.

When I pull back, her pupils are huge, eyes dark with want. “What did that feel like to you?”

“It felt like...” She traces her fingertip over my lips. “Possession.”

“You’re already mine. Why are you worried about some words in front of a priest?”

Bellamy’s hands move down to my lapels. “I’m worried it’ll be a kind of deadly magic. A—” She bites her lip. “A cage that comes down around us. And a man like you would fight to be free.”

“Oh, sweetness.” I gather her to me, then set her on her feet so we can face the party together. “Don’t you see it? I’ll never be free without you.”

* * *

“A toast to the happy couple!” Jax and Cate stand at the front of the room, glasses raised. “To a lifetime of good sex and adventure.”

The party is stuffed full of people who want to watch us drink and dance, and that’s exactly what they get. All of my friends from the Swan are here. They know what to do. I pulled them into the lobby, ten minutes into this, and told them urgently that it had to be a party.

It doesn’t matter that it’s been two years since our last party circuit. They attacked with the precision of a SWAT team, and an hour in, there’s not a person in the room who’s not tipsy and pink-cheeked.

“Come up here,” Jax booms, and not for the first time, I question why there’s a makeshift stage in this restaurant. It’s not the kind of place to have live music. Maybe they knew we’d be a spectacle. “Come up here, lovebirds. We want to drink to your health.”

The stage is situated in front of the main window, and over the course of the evening, a crowd has gathered on the sidewalk outside. A camera flashes. What could they possibly be capturing? It seems like an impossible task, to get photos of this party from outside, but I guess we’re in the equivalent of a giant lightbox.

I climb up on the stage with Bellamy, who’s swaying a bit on her heels, and she goes to Jax and Cate with a big smile on her face. The alcohol buzzes through me again. I want more of it. I want enough to chase away all of Bellamy’s doubt from my memory. I want enough to forget that I’m doing this for a brother who doesn’t deserve it. And still, still, I want her to be mine. On paper, in my bed, in every way possible.

Jax is saying something to the gathering of our friends, and his voice cuts in and out like a bad radio, but I can't take my eyes off Bellamy. “—America’s playboy is getting locked down by this gorgeous creature—”

Bellamy raises a hand to wave at our guests, beaming, and in the process, she stumbles into Cate’s arms.

“Naughty girl,” says Jax.

The two women are tangled together in dresses and heels, and I’m aware of every camera flash as I step across the stage. While I pull Bellamy close. While she clings to Cate jokingly, the two of them laughing.

While Cate leans forward and presses a kiss to her cheek, me in the background of the photo.

Flash. Flash. Flash.