“I do.”

Tate barely waited for the officiant to finish saying, “You may kiss the bride,” before he scooped Emily into his arms, bent her back and laid a kiss on her mouth that was borderline inappropriate for a wedding.

Emily didn’t look like she minded.

My new sister-in-law glowed with joy, the wide smile on her face matching Tate's. Their wedding couldn't have been more different from Charlie and Lucas's the week before. Aside from two close friends, the only guests were family.

Our uncle William had an out-of-town emergency, and while Mrs. W and Abel weren't strictly relatives, we considered them family just the same. They excused themselves to get dinner set up, and Emily dragged Tate off to take a few pictures with Annalise, who was acting as the official wedding photographer. I took advantage of everyone's distraction to sneak a kiss from Sophie.

She wore the same elegant navy blue dress she had to Charlie’s wedding, but this time she’d left her hair down, at my request. It flowed over her shoulders, the silvery blonde waves as soft as silk. I couldn't keep my fingers off it. If she'd been wearing white, she would've been the perfect picture of the angel I always called her. I looked down at her, framing her face in my hands and slid the pad of my thumb over the dark circles beneath her eyes.

She hadn't slept more than a few hours at a time since the break-in, waking abruptly after snatches of broken sleep, moaning and murmuring in plaintive tones. I hated seeing her so vulnerable. I'd asked her to trust me, and I knew she was trying, but trust came hard for Sophie.

It would have been easier if we’d caught the intruder. We’d made a little progress. The library window was fixed, and the Sinclair team had discovered how the intruder was entering the house – a long abandoned coal chute that fed into a closet at the back of the gym. Aiden and I had debated sealing it up, but at Cooper's recommendation, we'd left it as is, adding only a silent sensor to alert us if the chute was used. The next time this fucker tried to get into our house, we'd have him.

None of that was helping Sophie to sleep at night. Who knows, I might have been in the same shape if she wasn't waking me up so often. As it was, I'd had fitful nightmares myself, flashes of finding my aunt and uncle dead in the library, sometimes seeing Sophie in their place, blood spilled across her pale skin, her green eyes blank and glazed with death. None of us would relax until we caught whoever was breaking into the house.

Annalise had finally conceded that it was unlikely the intruder was her stalker, but she was still jumpy, hyper-alert and on edge. I doubted she would stick around more than a day or two now that Tate and Emily were married.

Sophie let me pull her down the hall to the wine room. Tate, Emily, and Annalise were occupied with photographs in the living room, Mrs. W and Abel in the dining room, while the rest of the family was sharing drinks at the temporary bar set up in the front hall. It was the perfect time to sneak off for a few minutes.

I wasn't the only one with that idea. I pushed open the heavy door of the wine room and was greeted by a startled gasp and a low chuckle. Vance had Magnolia pressed against the back wall, her dress hiked halfway up her leg, his hand on the back of her thigh and his mouth on her neck. Her dark red hair spilled over both of them, matching the embarrassed flush on her cheeks.

Over his shoulder, Vance said, “Get a room. I'd get one, but your girl is using mine.”

He had a point. While we all had rooms in the house, Sophie had taken his, and Amelia had moved into Holden and Tate’s. Sophie's hand firmly in mine, I tried to tug her down the hall, toward her bedroom but she dug in her heels.

“Not in the middle of the wedding,” she said.

“Technically the wedding is over, and the reception hasn't started yet,” I reasoned. Lively music sounded from the front hall, and I knew I'd lost my window. As expected, Sophie raised an eyebrow at me.

“I'm pretty sure that's the reception starting right now,” she said, “and I have to keep an eye on Amelia. She's up to something; I just can't figure out what.”

I gave in, but not before backing her into the wall outside the wine room and kissing her senseless. Her eyes were hazy and her lips swollen when I finally raised my head. “Now we can go to the reception,” I said, my lips against her ear, loving the way she shivered in my arms.

I could have urged her down the hall just then and locked us both in her bedroom. A few more kisses and Sophie would be more than willing to be late to the party. I didn't do it. Sophie wanted to go to the reception. She wanted to keep an eye on Amelia. So that's what we’d do. I'd have plenty of time alone with her later.

I kept an eye on Amelia as we got our drinks and joined my cousin Holden and his new fiancée Jo by the French doors overlooking the terrace behind the house. Holden had proposed to Jo not long after Tate and Emily had gotten engaged, though they were waiting to get married. They hadn't decided what kind of wedding they wanted. Considering we’d just had two in a row, and Jacob and Abigail were planning the wedding to end all weddings, Holden and Jo just wanted to enjoy being engaged for a while.

I listened to Sophie asking Jo about her work and studied Amelia, across the room. On the surface of things, she looked innocent enough, but there was a smugness to her happy smile that set me on edge. Sophie was right, Amelia was up to something.

Mrs. W appeared in the doorway of the dining room to tell us all it was time to eat. Tate had insisted she be a wedding guest and she, in turn, had insisted that she oversee the festivities, considering that it was only family. They'd both gotten their way, and after directing us all to our places, she took her own seat at the table. The seat beside her was empty, reserved for Abel, who Tate had also insisted join the party. Uniformed waiters, hired for the evening, carried in plates through the butler's pantry and set them before us.

Sophie sat beside me on the left. Amelia sat to her left, close enough to keep watch on, though as far as I could tell she wasn't interested in anything other than her soup.

We were just finishing the main course when Sophie saw it, tucked discreetly beneath her placemat. A note in heavy white vellum, folded in half. She was teasing it out from beneath the placemat when I caught sight of the note in her fingers, the curious crease between her eyebrows.

“What's that?” I asked, instantly suspicious.

“I don't know,” she said, turning the note over in her hands before unfolding it.

Meet me in my office when Gage is asleep.

I need to see you alone.

A

I knew that handwriting, the arrogant slash of that A.

That fucking bastard. I fucking knew it this whole time. The way he warned me away from her. The way he looked at her. I risked a glance at Sophie, her wide, shocked eyes barely registering through my surge of fury.

“Gage,” she stammered, “I don't know what this is. I swear, I don't know why –” She looked up at Aiden, at the head of the table, and back at the note. “I don't understand.”

I shoved to my feet, tipping my chair over behind me and tore the note from her hands. “I do. And I'm fucking done.”

I stalked down the room to the head of the table, a tide of rage rising in my chest. He could ignore me. He could put me off. He could punish me for leaving and shut me out. I'd resigned myself to that, was even okay with it.

Going after Sophie? Fuck, no. Sophie was mine, and this was a step too fucking far. I reached Aiden's chair in a few long strides that seem to take forever and reached down, my fist closing around the knot of his tie. I hauled him up, knocking his chair back. I only took a moment to register the shock on his face before I planted my fist in the middle of it.