Page 19 of A Sinner's Truth

Santo comes up and opens the passenger-side door for me. “Let’s get married,” he says.

You know when you’re nervous and you suddenly have no idea what to do with your hands. Yeah, that’s me right now while the guy I’m about to freaking marry seems as cool as a cucumber. He looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

How is he so calm?

“You doing okay over there, darling?” Santo pulls up to a red light and his gaze turns to me.

“I’m about to marry a stranger. I’m a little nervous. Most people would be. I don’t even know what your favourite colour is, or what your favourite drink is,” I ramble on.

“Green and Cinque whiskey. It’s only on paper, Aria. Don’t stress so much,” he tells me.

“I know. But it’s still… a lot.” I turn my attention to the window and watch the streets go past. Early morning commuters heading to work, some out for morning jogs. One thing they all have in common is they all look so free. I know it’s an illusion, the grass being greener on the other side and all thatnonsense. But right now, that illusion is really inviting. I’m not saying I’m not free. There are just times where I feel trapped in a gilded cage. “Do you think people are really going to believe it?”

“Yes,” Santo says with a confidence I wish I had. I’d even settle for being able to fake that kind of confidence.

“What makes you so certain?”

“Because if I say we’re married, then we’re married. People don’t tend to question me, darling.” His lips tip up into an almost smile. “You’re the exception, obviously.”

“Sorry,” I mumble.

“Don’t be. Ask me anything you want,” he says.

“Are you really a mafia prince?” I blurt out the first question that pops into my head.

Santo chuckles. “Right for the big ones, huh?”

“That’s not an answer,” I tell him.

“I said you could ask me anything, not that I’d answer anything.” The car pulls to a stop outside of a townhouse. “We’re here.” Santo gets out. And by the time he steps to my door, I’m already standing on the sidewalk looking up at the building in front of us.

“When we stop, you wait for me to open your door,” Santo grunts.

“Why? I have hands.” I wave my arms around to prove my point.

“Because I want to make sure it’s safe. I can’t protect you if I’m on the other side of the car, Aria.” He looks pissed off.

“Why do you need to protect me?”

“Because in less than half an hour, you’re going to be my wife, which makes you family. I protect my family. It’s what we do.” Santo holds out his hand. “You ready to get hitched?”

“Are you?” I feel like I should question him a lot more on what exactly I need protecting from, but as stupid as this sounds, I trust him. He’s saving me from having to marry Oliver.Honestly, this could all blow up in my face but at least I can go down knowing I tried.

“I’m ready,” he says.

Placing my hand on Santo’s outstretched palm, I get that strange tingling feeling I had when I was knocked into his lap that first night. I thought it was the alcohol. Now, I’m not so sure. But I’m going to ignore it. It’s probably just nerves anyway.

Santo walks up to the townhouse and presses the doorbell. A minute later, an older man is opening the door. “Mr De Bellis, Come in.”

“Thanks, Judge. I appreciate you doing this for us. This is my fiancée, Aria.” Santo’s hand drops from mine, falling to my lower back. “Sweetheart, this is Judge Michaels.”

“Nice to meet you,” the older man says.

“Thank you. You too.” My voice is quiet. My mind’s still reeling from the wholesweetheartthing. It’s also reeling from the way Santo’s hand possessively lingers at my lower back. I’m reading too much into it. I know that. I also know it’s not real. That doesn’t mean it’s not nice to hear and feel.

“Okay, come on through. There’s just a few papers for you two to sign,” Judge Michaels says.

We’re led into an office. Santo gestures to one of the two chairs, and I sit down while he occupies the other. I’ve never been in front of a judge before. It’s intimidating. Even here in this home office.

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