Chapter 20 Elio #2
And she sinks into me, her mouth opening under mine as she returns the kiss.
The world vanishes for a moment, and there’s nothing but her and I.
Nothing but her slender body in my arms and her sweet lips pressed against mine and the taste of her on my tongue.
Every nerve in me is alight, everything thrilling to her touch, and I want to throw everyone out, take her right there on the ruined altar and make her my bride in reality.
The priest shuffles behind us, dragging me back to the present. Diego clears his throat, holding out some papers—what was likely meant to be the paperwork for Desmond and Annie’s marriage. The priest signs it with a shaking hand, then Annie and I add our signatures. Diego signs as witness.
It's done. She's my wife.
And it means nothing.
My gut churns with longing and anger and a dozen emotions that I can’t untangle.
My jaw clenches as I turn back to the priest, who is standing there uncertainly.
Maybe expecting another payment for this wedding.
Rage crashes through me, and I draw in a slow breath, addressing him as evenly as I can.
"You took money from Desmond Connelly to marry an unwilling woman. You knew what you were doing was wrong, and you did it anyway."
The priest backs away, his face going white. "Please, I—I needed the money. My parish is struggling, and he offered so much—" He looks at Annie, as if she’ll help him escape this, a pleading look on his face.
“That’s not an excuse,” I snarl. “You helped a man entrap an innocent woman. You all but sold her to him. You don’t deserve to be a man of the cloth, and you certainly don’t deserve to breathe another sip of air, now that you’ve done what I needed you to do.”
"I'm sorry," the priest whimpers. "I'm so sorry. I'll give the money back. I'll—"
I pull my gun from the holster at my back. The priest's eyes go wide with terror.
"Elio," Annie says softly, but she doesn't tell me to stop.
"You're a man of God," I say quietly. "You should have known better."
The shot echoes through the empty church. The priest crumples to the floor, and I feel nothing. No remorse, no guilt. Just a cold satisfaction that one more person who tried to hurt Annie is dead.
Diego looks at the body, then at me, his face impassive. "I'll handle the cleanup."
"Good." I turn to Annie, who's staring at the priest's body with an unreadable expression. "Let's go. I'm taking you back to the safe house."
She nods mutely, letting me guide her out of the church and to the waiting car. We're silent during the drive, the weight of what we've just done—what I've just done—hanging heavy between us.
When we reach the safe house, I unlock the door and usher her inside. She walks inside slowly, uncertainly, finally sinking onto the couch in the living room, still in that same fucking bloodstained dress. I want to strip it off of her, to destroy any remnant of Desmond that still touches her body.
"Are you okay?" I ask, sitting in the chair across from her. Keeping distance between us. She’s my wife now, but I feel less than ever that I should touch her. Less capable of keeping my self-control from snapping and giving her everything she’s asked for, taking everything I want.
This is a marriage of convenience, I remind myself. A marriage for a purpose, not for forever. And consummating it is the one thing we absolutely cannot do.
The vows are enough. The paperwork is enough to keep her from Desmond. He’ll never know if I slept with her or not. That’s the one step that could give me credit in Ronan’s eyes, too, if he ever finds out. At least right now, I can say I married her to protect her, but didn’t touch her.
Didn’t take her virginity, at least.
“I don’t know,” she says honestly. “I’m married—to you—and there’s a dead priest, and Desmond escaped, and I should feel something about all of that, but I just feel… numb.”
"That's shock," I tell her gently. "It'll pass."
"Will it?" She looks up at me, and the vulnerability in her eyes makes my chest ache. "Elio, what have we done?"
"What we had to do," I say firmly. "You're safe now, Annie. That's what matters. Desmond can’t force you into marriage. You were right to suggest this. Now we can focus on flushing him out of wherever he’s hidden and put an end to this once and for all."
She nods, but she doesn't look convinced. We sit in silence for a while, and I watch her, memorizing every detail. The way her hair falls over her shoulders, the curve of her neck, the faraway look in her eyes.
My wife.
For now.
"I should let you get some rest," I finally say, standing. "It's been a long day."
"Elio, wait." Annie stands too, wrapping her arms around herself. "About tonight—"
"Nothing happens tonight," I cut her off, keeping my voice gentle but firm. "You've been through hell, Annie. The last thing you need is—"
"That's not what I meant," she interrupts. "I meant that we should—we need to—"
She stops, her cheeks flushing, and I realize what she's trying to say. My body responds instantly to the thought of consummating the marriage, my cock thickening in an instant. There’s not a molecule of my body that doesn’t want her—that isn’t desperate for us to take this all the way to its natural conclusion.
But fuck, I know better. And this isn’t how I wanted any of it to go.
"No," I say immediately. "Absolutely not."
"Elio—"
"I said no, Annie." I take a step back, putting more distance between us. "I agreed to marry you. I agreed to protect you. But I'm not going to—we're not going to consummate this marriage."
"But—"
"This is already going too far," I continue, thinking of Ronan. Of what he would do if he found out I married his sister. If he found out I touched her. "Your brother would kill me. Slowly. And he'd be right to do it."
"Ronan doesn't have to know," Annie argues. An argument she’s made so many times before, about so much already.
"That's not the point." I run my hands through my hair, frustrated. "Annie, this is supposed to be temporary. You said so yourself. So why complicate it by—"
"Because if Desmond manages to get to me," Annie interrupts, her voice rising, "and he finds out I'm still a virgin, do you know what he'll do?
He'll get the marriage annulled. He'll say it was never consummated, never real.
And then Desmond will force me to marry him anyway.
All of this will have been for nothing."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut because she's right. She's absolutely right. A marriage that's never been consummated can be annulled. It wouldn't protect her at all if someone challenged it.
"Annie—"
"I'm not saying it has to mean anything," she continues, and each word feels like a knife to my heart. "I'm not asking you to pretend you want to do this. I'm just saying it needs to be real enough to protect me. Real enough that no one can undo it. If I’m willing to do it, then—"
I stare at her, torn between what I want and what I should do.
Between my desire for her and my loyalty to Ronan.
Between my love for this woman and my fear that she doesn’t feel the same way.
She wanted me before. I wanted her before.
But all of this has become so tangled, so complicated, that neither of us can just be honest with each other.
Neither of us can sort through what’s real and what we’re being dragged into because of what Desmond has done.
I should have convinced her, somehow, to tell Ronan the truth from the start. But we’re too far into it now. And the thought of taking her to bed is a temptation beyond anything I’ve ever faced before.
But if I ever got to be with her like this, if I was ever given this one thing, I wanted it to be real. Real, the way it was eleven years ago. Real, the way I can never be sure that it will be, now.
"You don't know what you're asking," I say quietly.
"I do," she insists. "Elio, I'm asking you to sleep with me. Once. Just once, so that this marriage is legal and binding and can't be undone. That's all."
That's all. As if it's simple. As if I could touch her once and walk away unscathed.
But she's right about the danger. If Desmond captures her, if he figures out the marriage was never consummated, he could undo everything. He could still force her into marriage.
I can't let that happen.
"This doesn't change anything," I hear myself say. "Afterward, we still get this annulled—or divorced, I suppose it would have to be divorced now. We still end this when the danger passes."
"I know," Annie says softly. "I understand." She swallows hard, and I don’t know if the emotion on her face is from the thought of having to let me go or the thought of doing this at all.
I doubt she does. I doubt she has any idea what this is going to cost me.
But I nod anyway. "Okay. Okay, we'll—" I can't finish the sentence. "Give me a few minutes."
“I need to shower anyway,” Annie whispers. “I’ll—find you in the bedroom after I’m done?”
I swallow hard and nod again. “Alright.”
I wait until she’s collected her things and I hear the water running, and then head to the master bedroom.
My hands are shaking as I turn on the lights, as I look at the bed where I'm about to make what feels like it might be the biggest mistake of my life—right after walking away from her the first time.
Not because I don't want her. God, I want her so much it physically hurts.
But because I do want her. Because I love her. And because I know that one night with her—one taste of what it could be like if she were really mine—is going to destroy me.
And I’ll let it, if it means she’s safe.