My thoughts went back to the bar near Broussard’s. It was in that courtyard that I first saw Everett Ramses. My breathing hitched as I recalled the scene.
My hands were in his grasp, held high above my head. My body was on fire as a man I didn’t know caressed and teased me. His question was too personal and inappropriate. “Are you wet, Emma?”
Yet I answered truthfully.
His words came back as if recorded in time, deep in my consciousness. “Listen carefully, sweet Emma. The deal is done. You’re now mine. As mine, you will be pampered beyond your wildest imagination. The world is yours. I will lay the heads of your enemies at your feet and indulge your every desire. Your one task is to be mine, ready for me and willing to obey whatever I ask.”
Earlier today, Rett called the task due.
I was upset.
I was dismayed.
I was still angry.
And yet, as Rett said, he’d been honest with me from that very first night.
I wanted to trust him.
Another knock came to my door, pulling me from my inner monologue and thoughts.
When I opened it, I was met by Ian.
“Mrs. Ramses, Mr. Ramses is waiting in his front office.”
“I’m ready.”
Rett
The conversation within the front office stalled as Emma stepped into view. Coming the direction of the stairs, she made her way to the doorway. As I scanned from her golden crown of hair to the toes of her shoes, I made a conscious effort not to audibly gasp at her magnificence. Emma was absolutely stunning. The light blue dress she wore highlighted her vibrant eyes and brought back memories of our first dinner. I had a brief thought about the matching blindfold.
In her hand was a small purse.
For an instant, she stood in the archway and surveyed the front office. By the way the room stilled, this could be one of those moments when the guest of honor arrived, a dignitary or a queen. That was what Emma was—a queen. My marvel wasn’t brought on by doubt that she’d keep her word and attend this signing as she promised.
The woman standing in the doorway had never been untruthful. In many ways she’d been brutally honest about too many things.
My wonder came as a reminder that she was mine.
I lifted my hand as Emma came near. As my fingers encased hers, I introduced her to the two clerks from the Second City Court of New Orleans. It seemed that with what had happened with Judge McBride, the court not only sent two clerks but also a marked police car with two uniformed officers currently waiting upon my driveway. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t approve of New Orleans’s men and women in blue at my doorway, but this wasn’t normal.
“Emma, this is Clarence Wilson and Jennifer Snow, both here to witness our re-signing of our marriage certificate.”
Emma offered her hand to each as they addressed one another. I couldn’t help notice the sensation of pride within me as Emma repeated her name—Emma Ramses.
“Well, Mr. and Mrs. Ramses, we won’t keep you,” Mr. Wilson said as he held a pen in the air.
I hesitated. Last night, I’d been the first to sign.
Emma reached out, taking the pen. “Where do you want me to sign?”
Ms. Snow pointed to the space above Emma’s previous signature. “Once you do, I’ll initial.”
Emma nodded and signed her name—Emma Leigh Ramses. With a smile, she turned to me, offering the pen. “I believe you’re next.”
Following Ms. Snow’s instructions, I signed above my last signature.
Ms. Snow took the pen and added her initials by each name. Mr. Wilson did the same. By the time they’d both signed, Emma’s hand was back in mine. Mr. Wilson removed a notary seal embosser from a small box and crimped the bottom of the photograph.