“We should talk about the wedding,” August growls in staccato bursts. “Lily.”

I’m not ignoring him. Not entirely.

He yanks the cords dangling from my ears, cutting Taylor Swift mid-scream. “What?”

I slide my book over the coffee table. The excessive moisture is terrible for paper, but I love reading outside. Every morning I make a ritual out of eating breakfast on the balcony and finishing a chapter.

August frowns at my bare legs propped over the table. “The wedding is in a few hours.”

“Well aware.” I’ve resigned myself to this sham marriage. “I still have to eat breakfast.”

He’s already half-dressed. A tie hangs around his neck and his shirt hangs open, revealing a tantalizing strip of muscle. “We don’t have to get along, but you can’t do anything stupid during the ceremony.”

“I like how you assume I’m the one who’ll ruin everything, which is rich considering your behavior.” I raise my eyebrows at him. “Rosa didn’t say a word about the hole in the wall. I’m guessing this wasn’t your first time.”

He lets out a blast of frustrated air. “I said I was sorry.”

“Whatever.”

August closes his eyes as though praying for patience. “My father will be watching you.”

An ominous tone rings from that sentence. I meet his gaze, anxiety zipping my spine straight. “Will this be televised?”

His eyebrow lifts. “No.”

“Then why should I care?”

“Because he’ll take it out on me.”

Jesus. “He’ll beat you?”

“No. That stopped working a long time ago.” He paces the balcony, eyes flashing across the room. “He’ll go after my business. My farms. The people who work there.”

“He can’t do that!” I stand from the chair.

Even when he’s angry, there’s so much affection in his eyes. “Yes, he can.”

That’s monstrous. I think of the wedding dress packed in the closet and guilt suffocates my chest. “That’s fucking crazy.”

August massages his forehead. “I would’ve left for somewhere else a long time ago.”

Now I feel horrible. “I didn’t know.”

August releases a pained sigh. “I guess you can add that to my list of lies.”

My annoyance with August fades to a whisper as I realize the pressure he’s under. He can’t leave without something horrible happening to his employees. I can’t imagine the strain of dozens of livelihoods resting on his shoulders.

A lump lodges in my throat. “I won’t make trouble.”

“Good,” he says briskly. “See you later.”

“Wait.” I haven’t seen him in days. “Can we talk?”

A chill emanates from his voice. “I thought we were.”

I take his hand. “August, I want us to be okay before we do this.”

He tugs from my grasp. “We are.”

No, we’re not. “Please don’t go.”

He stops as he reaches the door. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. Reassure me, I guess. I’m nervous.”

August flattens his lips. “We can get the marriage annulled. It won’t be permanent.”

“Is that what you want?”

“You know damn well it’s not.” August touches my engagement ring. “This isn’t a ring pop from a vending machine.”

I know that, but I have doubts. “You were everything I wanted, but…it’s complicated.”

“I’m the same guy you met online, I’m just more.” He touches my cheek so I meet his gaze. “Can’t you see him in my eyes?”

He tethers me to the ground. Without him, I’m lost.

This wedding is gorgeous. I should find the event planner and send them a thank-you card. Fuchsia pink, dark purple, and white comprise the color palette of the décor. Splashed against the bright green flora, it’s beautiful.

It’s hard to believe anything this grand is meant for me.

When I imagined this day, I was standing in a Las Vegas chapel, a fluorescent cross burning behind the altar. That’d be the only way I’d get someone to marry me, like my friend Marie.

Instead I’m walking the aisle in thousands of dollars’ worth of couture, a bed of petals under my feet, leading to an outdoor altar surrounded with breathtaking flowers. Lilacs, baby’s breath, and blushing azaleas spring from terra-cotta pots. Vines crawl over the missionary-style altar.

The wedding march plays, and General Espada clutches my arm.

Better him than my own father, I guess. “Who should I thank for the decorations? Everything’s beautiful.”

Amusement tugs at his mouth. “Me.”

The apple doesn’t fall far from the cocky tree. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

I say nothing more, seething. I heard what he did. When he found out about the riot, he sent a squad to that slum and set it ablaze.

I can’t let anyone else get hurt.

We approach the pillar of white exploding with a colorful bouquet. The priest glows in the sunlight. Strangers fill the pews. The only person I recognize is Alex, who stands beside his brother.

General Espada gives me away. Photographers circle us, clicking madly. The photos will likely be used for propaganda. My grinning face will be plastered all over a pro-fascism magazine. I can’t help but get lost in the moment.

Especially when we face each other.

He’s stunning in a tux. His beard is trimmed. August beams at me, eyes widened as he takes me in. He winks, mouthing something.

Beautiful.

The priest drones in Spanish, August repeating each phrase. I recite my vows, well aware I sound like an idiot. I stammer through the pronunciation. Then we exchange rings. I’m swept in his arms before I realize we’ve been married.

August kisses me.

Warmth blazes across my face, but he pulls away too soon. I’m breathless, dizzy with the high of being tied to him forever. We face the cheering crowd. August leads me down the path covered with rose petals as people shout at me. I’m walking in a bubble. It’s like being underwater. Everything they say sounds muffled and distorted. We enter a hall surrounded by tiki torches. People are ushered to tables. August and I joined a table filled with his family.

I smile and nod for most of the night. No one would understand what I’d say, so I communicate in simple gestures. Like a doll.

It’s disturbing.

Maybe I’d enjoy myself if I could get roaring drunk. August springs from his seat to shake people’s hands and introduce me. There’s no one to talk to. All the guests seem to be experts in salsa dancing, which I can’t do. I’m an alien in this universe. No one to talk to—not even my new husband.

I leave the hall for fresh air, but the humidity isn’t refreshing. I feel trapped with heat, my only lifeline the ice cubes in my drink.

Alex joins me, nursing a glass of whiskey. “Congratulations.”

I smile at him. “That’s the most depressing congratulations I’ve ever heard.”

“I’m happy for you.” Alex clears his throat. “Honestly.”

Yeah, he’s practically glowing with happiness. “Thanks.”

“Did you enjoy the ceremony?”

“Surprisingly, yes. For a wedding I didn’t choose, it was very beautiful.”

“What?” He chokes on his drink. “You didn’t want this?”

Shit. “I would’ve liked to wait, that’s all.”

Alex stares at me, his glass balanced in a precarious position. He spills booze over his hands and mops the mess. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

I shouldn’t have. “Forget about it.”

The last thing I want is Alex getting involved.

“I could’ve talked sense into my father.”

“Alex, please keep your mouth shut. I didn’t mean it like that.” It was a mistake to confide in him. “I need to get back.”

“Wait.”

I ignore him, returning to my seat. It’s best if I keep to myself.

August sinks into the seat beside me, looking as though he’s had a long day. “How’s everything?”

“This is a beautiful wedding.”

He smiles, probably his first real one of tonight. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Everything is perfect. I’ve never been into event-planning, but whoever organized this nailed the details. The colors. The venue. The flowers—”

“Lily.” His grin widens. “I know they’re perfect because I picked them.”

My jaw drops. “You did all this?”

“Yes.” August shrugs. “I looked at your Pinterest for inspiration.”

I’m impressed. “Wow.”

He grazes my thigh. “I know what you think, but I want you. I picked you. This is real.”

It certainly feels that way with the guests, the balloons, the food, and the gargantuan cake.

We take pictures beside the shimmering, golden monstrosity. He smears icing on my lips before kissing me, and the sugar melts against his lips.

He seizes my waist, body pressed against mine. A bulge digging into my hip leaves little doubt what my husband wants from me. He can’t fake that kind of passion.

The moment comes sooner than I expect.

We wave to the guests as the clock strikes midnight, and I’m tipsy with the little alcohol I’ve consumed. August’s big hand envelops mine, guiding me upstairs. He belongs to me and I belong to him.

The doors close. Finally, we’re alone.

He yanks his tie loose, his smile hardening.

I slip out of my heels. “Can you help me take this off?”

August removes his jacket, rolling his sleeves to his elbows. Then tugs my straps, unlacing the bodice of the gown. It peels off my body.

His finger carves an S into my naked skin. “There’s something you should know.”