“Emma.” Rett took another step closer, his presence dwarfing me as his timbre slowed. “Come with me, now.”
Applying pressure to my teeth, I stared at the man before me.
Had Rett told me the truth?
Was he truly the devil?
The earlier noise from all the commotion was gone; a new blistering silence rang in its place as Rett’s nearly black eyes narrowed. “Now, Emma. You agreed to this deal with me.”
I had, and yet as my grip tightened on the top of the banister, I was unable to move forward.
The doorway to the room right off the foyer caught my attention. The tall doors were opened. The room within glowed with golden light from a large chandelier above. The furnishings were like something out of a museum or a palace. Standing guard were more of Rett’s men. Ian was within, speaking with Judge McBride. Miss Guidry was also there, her head shaking as she added to their conversation.
As my presence lingered, it was as if I were one of her ghosts, present, but unable to affect the world around me.
Rett’s voice lowered, piercing the fog of illusion. “Emma.”
My chin snapped toward him, yet my lips didn’t move.
His earlier emotion was gone. In its place was Rett’s usual demeanor, one of superiority and power. It was as if the world was once again in his control. For a moment that dominance had been in jeopardy but no longer. His firm lips curled in victory as his arm wrapped around my waist and tugged me toward the room with the others.
With Rett’s warm breath near my ear, to others his attention might have appeared gentlemanly. However, as goose bumps coated my skin, I heard what others couldn’t: the underlying growl and warning.
“Remember my rule.”
My feet began to move in unison as we neared the room.
“You promised, angel. Judge McBride is waiting with our marriage certificate, and you will sign.”
Emma
Rett’s grip of my waist tightened as we continued our walk into the room with the golden glow, the one they’d referred to as his front office. This room wasn’t anything like the office I’d been taken to after my abduction, the one hidden within the bowels of this mansion. This room was as if, upon leaving the foyer, we’d stepped out of current time and traveled back to the days of kings and queens, exemplified by lavish castles filled with riches.
It was a sitting room fit for royalty.
Inhaling deeply, I turned to the man at my side. In that split second, I saw only the pressed white shirt from beneath his custom tuxedo jacket covering his wide chest. I dared not to look higher, beyond the bow tie, to see his dark gaze upon me or invoke his deep tenor that would remind me again of the promise I’d made. Instead, I turned back to the room, gaping at the opulence, not as a would-be queen but perhaps as a peasant who had been mistaken for royalty.
I couldn’t help but wonder how this was suddenly partly mine.
Standing by the entry and also in the far corners, similar to guards on sentry, were more of Rett’s men. They didn’t wear the uniforms and tall hats of the guards at Buckingham Palace, but rather dark suits, grim expressions, and beneath their suit coats, undoubtedly the firearms that had moments earlier been aimed at my brother and...Liam.
In the time that I’d been living within this dwelling, never had I seen so many of Rett’s men in one place. Then again, the night had brought many unusual sightings. Trying to ignore them—or more likely seeking a diversion from them—I took in the luxury around us.
While polished to perfection, the wood floor showed a bit of the age of Rett’s home.
How many people had stood in this room?
My attention was quickly diverted elsewhere. Beyond the fifteen-foot windows accented with heavy drapes, streetlights glowed. Their radiance created starbursts glimmering within the panes. And above us, the twenty-foot ceiling was covered in detailed murals surrounded with intricate trim and crown molding. In the center of the room, a large chandelier shimmered, sending light in prisms that flickered around the room and onto the extravagant furnishings.
Judge McBride, Ian, and Miss Guidry were gathered near an antique console table beautifully adorned with golden legs and a marble top. The judge’s eyes were wide, and Miss Guidry wrung her hands as we approached.
Despite Rett’s pressure moving me forward, each step I took was smaller than the last.
Earlier in the night, Judge McBride had asked me if I was marrying Everett Ramses without misgivings. In that moment, under the twinkling lights and standing before the fountain upon the pebblestone walkway that made up the Ramses family crest, I’d answered honestly.
That moment, maybe thirty minutes earlier—maybe an hour—now seemed like a lifetime ago.
The shutting of the large double doors behind us caused me to startle.