Chapter 20 #2
Marco reached for the pen first, his hand steady. I watched him sign, looping the letters of his name. He slid the pen toward me, finally lifting his eyes just enough to meet mine.
My breath caught, chest squeezing tight. “You sure?” I whispered softly, almost too quietly for him to hear. “Last chance to run.”
“Sign the papers, Valentina.”
It wasn’t an answer, but it wasn’t a no. Somehow it felt worse. I bit down on whatever bitter retort sat on the tip of my tongue, grabbing the pen a little too roughly and signing my name with quick, messy letters, nothing like his.
The clerk took the papers, barely glancing at us. “Do you have rings?”
We didn’t, of course, because this was Marco and me, not some blissful young couple who’d planned things like matching wedding bands or honeymoon destinations. This was cold and awkward and vaguely humiliating.
But Max stepped forward smoothly, handing Marco a small black box. He’d clearly come prepared.
Of course he had.
Marco flipped it open, revealing two plain gold bands. Simple, generic, exactly as meaningful as everything else about this arrangement.
My heart twisted. I looked down at my heels, wishing I’d worn something else. Anything else. Maybe sneakers, so I could sprint out of here faster.
Marco picked up one of the rings, holding it carefully between two fingers. He reached out and gently took my hand, sliding the ring onto my finger without looking up.
It fit perfectly.
My turn.
I took the other band and slid it onto his finger with trembling hands.
Marco still hadn’t let go of my hand.
The clerk cleared her throat. “You’re officially married. Congratulations.” She sounded completely uninterested. I couldn’t blame her. I wasn’t exactly feeling festive either.
It took all of five minutes. Five minutes to sign my name, stand next to him for some legal vow I couldn’t even remember, and let a ring slide onto my finger. Then we were done.
I barely tasted the air in that cramped courthouse office before I was moving, heels clicking against cheap linoleum, trying to outrun the realization I’d just married Marco.
I wanted out. Out of the courthouse. Out of that suffocating hallway. Out of the entire situation, if I could manage it.
I didn’t have to look over my shoulder to know he was right behind me. I could hear his steps, the sound of those long, slow strides that belonged to a man who never seemed to be in a hurry—except, apparently, when he was trying to catch me.
Eventually, my speed-walk turned into a speed-trot as I made my way down the hall. But it made no difference. He caught me easily.
“Valentina.” He said my name like a demand.
I wasn’t going to answer, but then his hand snaked around my arm, forcing my attention to him.
“Let go,” I snapped, swinging around.
I knew he wouldn’t. Instead he steered me down another corridor and pushed open a door that led us into a small space. I couldn’t tell what it was. Maybe a storage room or a conference room nobody used.
He slammed the door shut and finally let go of me. Then I took the opportunity to shove him in the chest—hard.
He barely moved.
I hated that.
“You,” I hissed, jabbing a finger at him. “What the hell was that?”
He stayed silent, watching me. I knew I wouldn’t get an answer. Marco was the human equivalent to a locked door that no one had the key to—not even himself.
“Answer me,” I hissed, hands trembling. I didn’t know if it was from fury or the adrenaline still spiking my pulse. Probably both.
Still, he didn’t give me an answer.
I hated lawyers. This one in particular.
“Why can’t you let me handle my own mess for once?” I argued. “I didn’t ask for your help.”
“For fuck’s sake, Valentina,” he hissed. “Why can’t you just thank me for once?”
I laughed. A real, full-bodied laugh—the kind that would’ve made Mama swat at me for being disrespectful. Thank him? Was he insane?
“For what, exactly?” I took a step closer, tilting my head. “For ruining my plan? For stepping in when I didn’t ask you to? Or for making sure I can never, ever get rid of you now?”
“You don’t get to be mad about this,” he said finally, his voice rougher than before. “You wanted an easy out, a name on a contract, a quick fix. You were about to tie yourself to a Fed, Valentina. A man who would’ve turned on you the second things got hard.”
He was right, wasn’t he? Wasn’t that the whole point of this? The money, the security, the exit strategy? I should have been relieved, but I wasn’t.
I was furious.
I wanted to believe this was just Max pulling his usual shit.
That Marco had been forced into it. That he’d followed orders like the good little soldier he was, no questions asked, no opinions given.
That was the way Marco worked, wasn’t it?
He followed. He obeyed. He handled problems the way he always did.
But then I looked at him, at the way he was standing there as still as stone, and I knew. He hadn’t been ordered. He’d chosen this.
“You feel sorry for me, mijo?” I asked, forcing the words past the knot in my throat.
His jaw clenched. He hated it when I called him that—when I refused to say his name—and that was the only thing I had control over in this moment.
“No.”
Liar.
I knew he did.
Maybe it was the way he’d stepped in without asking.
Maybe it was the way he hadn’t let me make my own mistakes.
Maybe it was the way he was looking at me now, like he had figured me out.
Like he knew why I was spiraling, why I was picking at him, why I was trying to sink my nails into something, anything, that would keep me from feeling this way.
Because Marco didn’t try to fix people. He let them burn, and I’d liked that about him. It was why I’d trusted him. And now? Now he’d ruined it.
I don’t know why I pushed him, why I leaned in, why I let my fingers trail down his suit like I was inviting something I didn’t actually want. Maybe because I wanted to see if there was anything beneath all that restraint.
He didn’t move, but I saw the way his throat worked when he swallowed. Saw the way his pulse ticked a little too fast at his neck.
“Good,” I whispered. “Because nothing turns me off faster than pity.”
I stepped back, turned on my heel, and pushed past him to the door.
I waited, but only for a second, to see if he’d stop me again.
He didn’t.