Rett tightened his grip, adding a little more pressure for me to move forward.
My first thought was to run, but run where and to whom?
“I believe,” Judge McBride said as he lifted a long fountain pen our direction, “that despite the interruption, all that is left to be done is to sign the certificate.”
Where was his question now?
How would I answer it if posed?
“It’s customary,” the judge continued, seemingly unaware of my new inner struggle, “for this certificate to come later from the courthouse; however, per our agreement earlier today, Mr. Ramses, tonight we’ll complete all the legal documentation. Mr. Knolls and Miss Guidry have already signed as witnesses. Once the two of you sign, I’ll add my signature and you two will legally be Mr. and Mrs. Everett Ramses.”
When I didn’t reach for the pen, Rett did. Releasing me, he stepped to the table and by the movement of the long pen, signed his name. It was then he turned to me, doing as the judge had done and extending the pen. “Emma.”
My breaths pushed against the fitted bodice as I tried to comprehend what had transpired.
Judge McBride called it an interruption. That seemed too simple of an assessment of what had occurred. An interruption was a blip of time, a sidetrack, or maybe an intermission. Kyle and Liam’s appearance wasn’t the intermission but rather the unexpected second act.
“Emma,” Rett repeated.
“Rett,” I said, finding my voice. “I don’t want to delay Judge McBride any longer than necessary, but before I sign, I need to speak with you” —I looked around the room— “in private.”
I would have had to have been blind to not see Rett’s jaw clenching, the tendons pulling taut in his neck, or his gaze darkening. While my experience with this man was limited by the length of our acquaintance, I had witnessed a full range of his emotions. Currently, he was not pleased. If I were one of his men, I might fear his next reaction.
To be honest with myself, I did have fear of his reaction. I simply refused to give it power.
Rett stepped closer with the pen in hand, then closer still, until I was craning my neck upward.
“You will sign.” His declaration came from between clenched teeth.
Swallowing, I took a step back and walked to the double doors. Another of Rett’s men was standing there. My neck straightened as I approached. “Open the door.”
The man’s stare darted from me to Rett.
Before anyone could speak, I turned to the room. “I am Mrs. Everett Ramses in every way with the exception of a signature. Do I or do I not have the power that accompanies that title?” I turned my blue stare toward Rett. “I would assume you’re the one to answer that.”
For a moment in time, the room took a collective breath. All eyes were on the man in command, the self-proclaimed king of New Orleans.
“Out,” Rett bellowed as he turned to the man at the door and back to others around the room. “Give us five minutes. And then everyone will return.” His gaze met the judge’s as Rett offered the slightest of a bow. “Thank you for your patience.”
My confidence built as one by one, the room emptied. The guard in the far corner was the last to move. It wasn’t until Rett assured him that we wouldn’t be long that the man finally joined the others. Once Rett and I were alone and the doors closed, I let out a breath.
It was a misjudgment on my part.
Before I could inhale, the man who was nearly my husband had me captive. With one arm around my waist and the other hand holding tightly to my chin, I was pinned against his solid body. Inclining his face toward mine, with our noses nearly touching, Rett’s tone rumbled through me with the ferocity of a lion’s growl, leaving goose bumps scattering in its wake.
“Never again.” His nostrils flared with each deep breath as darkness swirled in his almost-black orbs. “I am in charge in all things, Emma. Don’t forget that. That will be the last time you overstep your position.”
If I were a sane person, I would retreat, perhaps apologize, and accept where fate had brought me. It seemed that based upon the evidence at hand—Rett in a tuxedo, me in his mother’s wedding dress, and our marriage certificate upon the console—sanity wasn’t my forte.
My neck and back straightened as my shoulders squared. “What is that position?”
“My wife.”
I shook my head as much as his grip would allow as my eyes narrowed. “That isn’t the only title you offered.” His grip of my chin lessened. “You told me I would be your queen. A queen has her own power.” I smiled. “If this were a game of chess, it would be my job to protect you.”
“It’s not a fucking game.” Rett tilted his head toward the table. “You will sign the certificate.”
“First, I want you to answer two questions.”