Chapter 4

The Maybach tore through the midnight streets of Manhattan, the streetlights flashing across Eleanore's pale face in rapid succession.

Inside her purse, her phone began to vibrate violently. The shrill ringtone pierced the quiet cabin. Eleanore looked down. The screen lit up with Johan's name. Her stomach clenched, a conditioned response to his relentless control.

Before she could reach for it, a large, warm hand reached across the seat. Alexander snatched the phone from her purse. Without breaking eye contact with her, his thumb pressed down on the power button until the screen went black.

He tossed the dead phone back into her bag.

"Get used to ignoring him," Alexander commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. "He doesn't exist anymore."

The car pulled up to the curb in front of the New York City Hall. The massive stone building looked imposing and cold in the dark. A sharp gust of wind swept down the street, making Eleanore shiver violently.

Alexander stepped out of the car. He shrugged off his heavy wool overcoat and draped it over Eleanore's shoulders as she stepped onto the pavement. The coat swallowed her, wrapping her in his body heat and the ever-present scent of cedar.

The building should have been closed hours ago, but Alexander's vast legal team had already paved the way with an emergency executive waiver. L. Thorne held the heavy brass doors open.

They walked side-by-side up the empty marble staircase. The sharp click of her heels and the heavy thud of his dress shoes echoed in the cavernous hall. Every step felt like a nail being driven into the coffin of her old life.

Thorne led them to a small, wood-paneled office on the second floor. An older judge, brought in specifically under the pretense of a high-security private arrangement, sat behind a desk. He didn't ask questions about the mandatory twenty-four-hour waiting period-the waiver took care of that. He simply pushed a piece of paper forward.

"Marriage License," the judge mumbled, adjusting his glasses. "Fill out the highlighted sections."

Eleanore took the pen. Her hand shook so badly she could barely grip the metal barrel. She wrote her name. Then, she moved to the spouse section. Alexander Briggs. Seeing the two names linked together in black ink made the absurdity of the situation crash over her.

The judge stood up and gestured for them to stand in front of his desk.

"We are gathered here today to unite this man and this woman in matrimony," the judge began, his voice a dull monotone that somehow made the words feel heavier.

Eleanore stared straight ahead at the judge's tie, refusing to look at the man standing next to her.

"Do you, Eleanore Coffey, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Eleanore's throat closed up. The silence stretched for one agonizing second. Two seconds.

Alexander turned his head. His dark, intense gaze locked onto the side of her face. The sheer weight of his stare forced her to look at him. His eyes were a storm of warning and an odd, terrifying reassurance.

She swallowed hard. "I do."

The judge turned to Alexander. "Do you, Alexander Briggs, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

Alexander didn't hesitate for a fraction of a second. "I do." His voice was deep, resonant, and absolute.

"The rings," the judge prompted.

Eleanore froze. Rings? The contract didn't mention rings. She hadn't brought anything.

Alexander reached into his trouser pocket. He pulled out a small, black velvet box. He flipped it open with his thumb.

Sitting on the black cushion was a massive, flawless blue diamond ring, surrounded by a halo of crushed white diamonds. It caught the harsh fluorescent light of the office and threw it back in blinding sparks.

Eleanore's breath hitched. It was the most beautiful, terrifying thing she had ever seen.

Alexander took her left hand. His large fingers wrapped securely around her trembling ones. He picked up the ring and slid it onto her ring finger.

It slid over her knuckle with zero resistance. It fit perfectly. Flawlessly.

Eleanore stared at her hand in shock. How did he know her exact ring size? She pushed the thought away. He was a billionaire. His assistants probably had her entire medical history on file.

"By the power vested in me by the State of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife," the judge said, stamping the Marriage Certificate with a loud, metallic crunch. "You may kiss the bride."

Eleanore turned her face slightly, expecting him to press a polite, fake kiss to her cheek for the sake of the judge.

Instead, Alexander's hand slid around to the small of her back. He yanked her flush against his hard chest. His other hand cupped the back of her neck, his thumb pressing into her pulse point.

He tilted her head up and brought his mouth down on hers.

This wasn't the desperate, drug-fueled kiss from the hotel. This was slow, deliberate, and entirely possessive. He tasted her deeply, branding her with his heat, letting her feel the absolute physical dominance he held over her. Eleanore's knees went weak. Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs.

When he finally pulled back, her lips were swollen and her eyes were wide.

Alexander turned to the desk and picked up the freshly stamped Marriage Certificate. He stared at the red seal for a long moment. A muscle worked in his jaw.

They walked out of the building. A cold, misty rain had started to fall over Manhattan.

Alexander opened a large black umbrella. He pulled Eleanore close to his side, ensuring she was completely shielded from the rain. In doing so, the entire left side of his expensive suit was exposed to the downpour.

They got back into the Maybach.

He turned his head, looking at Eleanore as the car pulled away from the curb.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Briggs," Alexander said, his voice a low, dark rumble. "You're free."