Page 9 of Kneeling for Daddy
“You didn’t seem too bothered by her face back at the café,” Enzo teases.He’s enjoying this far too much.
I glare at him, clenching my fists at my sides to keep from drilling one into his smug jaw. “I was surprised, that’s all. I expected?—”
“Someone hideous and unmarryable?” Cillian offers dryly, quoting my rambling from this morning.
“Exactly.” They share one of those silent exchanges that makes me feel like the punchline to a joke I’m not in on. I fucking hate that.
Cillian stops outside Judge Ralston’s office and turns to face me again, his expression the kind that says he’s done trying to gently convince me that this is happening. “This is business. Nothing more.”
Business. Right?
Because all business deals come with vows, rings, and a wife. I push past him into the judge’s office before I say something I can’t take back.
Judge Ralston looks up from the manila folder spread across his desk, brows shooting up in surprise. “For fuck’s sake,” he exclaims, leaning back in his chair. “I knew it was a shotgunwedding, but I wasn’t expecting it to be you. I thought you were a bachelor for life.”
“Yeah,” I huff flatly, taking a seat without being told or offered. “I fucking thought so, too.”
Ralston laughs, flipping to a clean page. “And yet… here we are.”
The sharp click of heels against the marble turns my head. Ani confidently steps through the threshold, her brother right behind her. My eyes drag over her before I can stop myself—her lean legs, the subtle dip of her waist, and the faint gleam of a chain at her throat. The black dress she’s wearing is tailored just enough to cling to all the right places. A soft chuckle rattles my chest and I shake my head at the realization I didn’t make at the café.
Black.
My bride-to-be is dressed for a funeral, not a wedding. She catches me looking and smirks, slow and knowing, like she plans to use my wandering eyes against me later.
Judge Ralston’s eyes flick to Ani, gesturing for her to join us at his desk. The unimpressed look on her face clearly intrigues the judge. He keeps looking between us like we’re the most interesting thing he’s seen all week.
“All right, let’s make this quick. I have to get back into court.” He clears his throat. “Do you, Nikolai Romanov-King, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?—”
“Apparently, since I have to.”
Enzo elbows me in the ribs hard enough to make me grunt. “That’s not the right answer, Nik.”
“I’m not here to win any good husband points,” I grumble.
Ralston doesn’t even bother to hide his eye roll as he turns to Ani and continues, “Do you, Ani Sargsyan, take this man?—”
“You call him a man?” Ani interrupts, giving me a slow once-over, her lips curling into the kind of smirk that leaves me unsure whether I want to kiss or strangle her.
Heat flares up the back of my neck, and I clench my jaw as I lean closer to her, ensuring she doesn’t miss the edge in my tone. “If you have any doubts, I have no problem showing you how much of a fucking man I am when I take you home.” Her hazel eyes narrow, and she scoffs in disgust, but she can’t hide the tiniest flicker of intrigue in her golden pools.
Ani tears her angered gaze from mine and fixes it on her brother. “I swear, Alek… if you still cut me off after this, I’ll kill you.”
“I would expect nothing less of you, little sister.” Alek sighs.
“Good,” she spits, then looks back at Ralston. He repeats the question, unbothered, like he’s used to treating his civil ceremonies the same as hostile witnesses. “Yeah. Fine. Whatever.”
“Romantic as fuck.” Enzo quietly chuckles, pretending to wipe a tear from his cheek.
The judge scribbles something on the paperwork before him and snaps the folder shut, clearly done with both of us. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Try to make it a week before you kill each other. My docket is full, and I don’t have time for this bullshit.” He signs the marriage certificate with a flourish and extends his hand to give it to me and Ani, both of us refuse to take it.
“For fuck’s sake,” Cillian huffs, swiping the paper from Ralston’s hand, who promptly waves us toward the door like he can’t wait to get us out of his office.
And that’s it. No music. No flowers. Just a state-issued stamp declaring her mine.
Mine…
Ani crosses her arms and stares at me, like she’s weighing how deep to drive the knife. “Are we good now?” Ani breaks our stare to glance at Judge Ralston, as if the man is the final stamp of legitimacy on this mess.
