Page 23 of Merciful Lies

But I've been so alone lately. And it feels kind of nice to have someone to share it with. All the joys and worries of pregnancy.

With this new threat, well, I’m actually glad Nico is here and stepping up.

Who knew mafia types could be so Gung-ho to marry one night stands that end up in surprise pregnancies?

The preacher finishes looking over the papers, and he gestures the other man forward.

“Luc, are you witnessing?”

“Yes,” the man, Luc, answers.

He bends down and signs the papers. Then hands the pen to Nico. Nico signs and hands the pen and paper to me.

I sit there staring at the document.

“Sign it, Rosebud.”

He’s back to crouching in front of me as he gives the order and the dark timber of his voice sends shivers down my spine.

I grip the pen. Nico presses down on my hand gently, forcing the felt tip to the paper.

I take a breath.

And I sign.

CHAPTER NINE-NICO

My entire body is vibrating as I watch Anna sign her name to the marriage license.

It’s brash and reckless. Stupid? Maybe. But I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks.

That’s my baby she’s carrying beneath her breast, and I want it. I won’t acknowledge the part where I want Anna just as much.

I haven’t touched another woman since New Year’s Eve. Haven’t wanted to, and yeah, there’ve been offers.

Blatant ones.

I’m the king of the fucking Vipers. Bodies are cheap in my world.

I hesitated the last time I had her in my grasp, and I refuse to make the same mistake now that she’s back.

Six fucking months without a word, but it doesn’t matter. My body reacts to her like it does to no other.

My dick is painfully hard beneath my tailored pants, and I want her with a need I can barely contain.

Her face is tear-stained, free of makeup, and the loose sundress she has on is crumpled.

Still, she looks beautiful.

There’s a glow in her skin that might have something to do with hormones, but I like to think maybe it’s the same thing that caused her breath to catch when we exchanged vows.

I don’t have a ring for her, but I’ll rectify that in the morning.

“I now pronounce you man and wife,” Preacher says.

He’s a Roman Catholic priest now, but I know him as Preacher. He’s a little older than me and was just another punk roaming the streets of Jersey City when I was coming up.

Preacher is over at St. Al’s now. But he comes when I call. He still owes me for a little something I helped him out with before he went to seminary school.

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