The Maybach tore through the streets of Manhattan.
Basile drove like he did everything else-aggressively, but with total control.
Celeste sat in the passenger seat.
Her phone was vibrating incessantly against her thigh.
Bryce.
Dad.
Ophelia.
Daniela.
The names flashed on the screen like a countdown to a bomb detonation.
Basile glanced over, his eyes on the road but seeing everything.
"You going to answer that?"
Celeste looked at the screen.
"Dead people don't answer phones," she said.
She held the power button down until the screen went black.
She tossed the phone into the glove compartment.
Basile's lips quirked up at the corner.
It wasn't a smile, but it was close.
He pulled the car up to the VIP entrance of the City Clerk's office.
Two men in dark suits were waiting by the curb.
Lawyers.
Basile's legal team.
They moved with military precision as Basile stepped out of the car.
One opened Celeste's door.
Another handed Basile a folder.
"Everything is prepared, Mr. Delgado," the lawyer said. "The judge is waiting in chambers."
Basile nodded.
He didn't wait in line.
He didn't fill out forms.
He walked through the metal detectors without breaking stride, the guards nodding him through.
Celeste hurried to keep up with his long legs.
They entered a private office.
A judge in black robes stood up, looking nervous.
"Mr. Delgado," the judge said, wiping sweat from his forehead. "An honor."
Basile threw the paperwork on the desk.
"Skip the speech," he said. "Just the vows."
The ceremony was a blur.
No flowers.
No music.
Just the hum of the air conditioner and the scratch of a pen.
"Do you, Celeste Franco..."
Celeste looked at Basile.
He was looking down at her, his face unreadable.
This was madness.
She was marrying the enemy.
But the enemy was the only one offering her a sword.
"I do," she said.
"Do you, Basile Delgado..."
Basile paused.
The silence in the room grew heavy.
Celeste's heart hammered against her ribs.
Was he going to back out?
Was this just a cruel game to humiliate her?
Basile's eyes darkened.
He took her hand.
His thumb pressed into her palm.
"I do," he said.
His voice resonated in her chest.
They signed the papers.
The clerk stamped the certificate with a heavy thud.
Celeste reached for her copy.
Basile's hand shot out.
He snatched the certificate before she could touch it.
"Hey!" Celeste protested.
Basile folded the document and slid it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
Right over his heart.
He handed a second copy to one of the lawyers, a man named Vance. "Get this digitized and sent to the asset in place. Now."
He leaned in close, invading her personal space.
He smelled of danger and salvation.
"There is no divorce in my world, Celeste," he whispered. "Only widowhood. Do you understand?"
A shiver ran down her spine.
It wasn't fear.
It was something darker, something electric.
"I understand," she said.
One of the lawyers stepped forward with another thick document.
"The share transfer agreement, Mrs. Delgado," he said.
Basile held up a hand.
"Not yet," he said.
Celeste looked at him in surprise.
"I thought that was the deal," she said.
"It is," Basile said. "But first, we have a wedding to crash."
He offered her his arm.
It was a courtly gesture, at odds with his threatening words.
"Shall we?"
Celeste looked at his arm.
Then she looked at his face.
She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow.
She felt the hard muscle beneath the fine wool of his suit.
"Let's go burn it down," she said.
