Page 81 of A Fine Line

“Age gap,” I say distractedly.

He raises an eyebrow in confusion. “Excuse me?”

I shake my head and laugh nervously. “Nothing.”

He leans forward in his chair and rests his forearms on the top of his desk as he sighs. “I know the situation is absurd. You’d think in this day and age, power plays would no longer be made using marriage contracts, but the fact of the matter is that both legal and illegal transfers of power are still dictated by bloodlines. The only time you’ll see that transition of power change from one bloodline to another is through complete slaughter. Yours is almost there. If they were smart, they would’ve already killed you and taken the girl, and for all we know, that’s what their plan is. So, now, you have to decide what lengths you’re willing to go to protect her.”

“Anything,” I reply without hesitation. “I will literally do anything to protect her. Ihavedone anything to protect her. You tell me what I have to do, and I’m gonna fucking do it. Doesn’t matter if I like it, if I enjoy it, or if it’s gonna be a great, happy life for me. As long as I can provide her with the best life possible, then I’m gonna do it.”

He looks me up and down again before pushing back from his desk and standing. He leans forward and grabs a pen and a piece of paper, then jots something down. He tosses the pen onto the desk and picks up the paper, walking around his desk to stand in front of me. Folding the paper in half, he hands it to me and says, “Be at this address in three hours. We’ll get it sorted. Try to keep yourself out of trouble in the meantime.”

He pulls his phone out of his suit coat pocket, presses a button, and then puts it to his ear. He gives me a wink and then walks out of the room, leaving me standing there with my mouth wide open. After a few beats, I come to my senses and turn to the door and yell, “Wait! Who are you?”

My words fall on an empty room, and I roll my eyes at myself in annoyance for not being smart enough to find out who the fuck I’m even making super-crazy life plans with.

Having no other choice, I’ll be meeting Mr. No Name in three hours, wherever the fuck this address is.

I leave the office and take the elevator back down to the ground floor. I don’t have a phone to call anyone and don’t know anyone’s number to be able to borrow a phone. Basically, all I can do is hunker down and wait for my next rendezvous time.

I step out onto the busy street and look around the area. I spot a nice café a little way down and head in that direction.

I figure there’s a fifty-fifty chance I might die later, so it’s the perfect time for a cappuccino and pistachio croissant.

Exactly three hours from the time Mr. No Name gave me the paper with the address on it, I’m standing outside a large brick church. The ever-familiar dread is circling in my guts, but I ignore it and walk up the stairs, where a woman is standing, apparently waiting for someone.

I move to try the door when she stops me. “Carolina?”

Her voice is heavily accented and melodic, and I smile in response. “Yes. I’m Carolina.”

She beams back at me, then opens one of the enormous wooden doors and motions for me to proceed her inside. “My name is Amalia. I have a very simple yet beautiful dress and also a few accessories to help make this day memorable for you.”

I frown, stopping in my tracks as I ask, “Memorable for what?”

She raises her meticulously shaped brows at me, her smile no less bright as she replies, “Come now, dear. Let’s get you ready.”

I dig my heels in for a moment and then relent, knowing in order for me to figure out what’s going on, I have to follow the path to the end. But I’m getting the impression that Mr. No Name was taking his marriage contract lecture a bit too seriously.

We enter a small room off the narthex, and the first thing I see is the simple yet beautiful dress she was referring to. It’s not pure white but more of a champagne color, and it shimmers in the light. I frown at it, and when I glance at Amalia, she’s giving me a confused look. I quickly smile and say, “Thank you. This was very kind of you.”

Relief flashes across her features before being quickly replaced with her bright smile. “I’ll leave you for a few minutes to get dressed, and then I will help you with your hair and makeup. Nothing too extravagant—just a little touchup.”

She scurries out of the room, shutting the door behind her, and I exhale a breath, my hand rubbing over my face in frustration. I can’t even fathom what kind of fuckery I’ve gotten myself into here, and the fact that I have no way of notifying anyone of the current state of events does my head in.

I take a deep breath in through my nose and then let it out through my mouth, muttering to myself all the ways everything is fine and will be fine. Everything is fucking fine.

I stop stalling and quickly change into the dress Amalia brought for me. It’s a perfect fit, the bodice hugging my torso nicely while the skirt floats around my thighs to just below my knees. It’s a classical, timeless style reminiscent of the fifty’s glamour, and under different circumstances, I’d be more than pleased to be wearing it.

I’m attempting to zip it when there’s a sharp knock in the door. After a brief pause, the door opens, and Amalia peeks her head in to say, “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” I reply. “I could use some help with the zipper.”

She enters the room, shutting the door behind her and walking over to finish pulling the zipper up my back. She moves to stand in front of me, a smile on her face as she says, “You’re a beautiful bride.”

My stomach turns at her words, but I manage to keep the smile on my face. “Thank you. I’m not sure much can be done for my hair at this point.”

“Oh, I’ll put it up in a simple twist,” she says as she pulls the chair out and motions for me to take a seat. She grabs a comb and a spray bottle, then waits for me to be seated before spritzing and combing my wild mess into submission.

Once she’s finished with my hair, she trades her tools for makeup, which she applies quickly yet professionally. Before long, I’m staring back at my own reflection and nodding approvingly. “Well done, Amalia. I can only imagine the magic you’re capable of if you have a clean canvas.”

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