Page 70 of The Worst Pucking Deal

“And the divorce?” Gail asks.

“It was hidden in the prenup. But as promised, Remus granted me my divorce just as I was about to get married.”

She lets out a whistle. “Damn. Not even thirty and married twice. Go Luce.” I shoot her a dirty look that makes her cackle. “Too soon?”

“Way too soon,” I confirm.

Picking up my glass I drink the few drops left. I contemplate refilling it, but I’m starting to feel tired. Plus, the quicker I go to sleep, the quicker Sawyer’s back.

We only stay for another hour, which we spend discussing possible outcomes and ideas of how to approach the trip to the Vatican that I need to gain my freedom. But no matter how much we talk about it, I don’t see a natural way to bring it up.

“If he needs to stand in front of some kind of jury I don’t think there’s any sneaky way to do this,” Gail says. “You just have to go ahead with it.”

“I guess.”

Shaking her head, she laughs as she stands. “Still denying having feelings for him? Because if you don’t, you should just get it over with so you can be free to spread your wings or whatever.”

“It’s not that simple,” I hiss. “Going to the Vatican could cost him his life. If the Senate doesn’t approve, they could order his execution. Feelings don’t fucking matter.” Even as I speak the words, I know it’s a lie.

Not the part about the potential consequences; the part about feelings. They matter, and it’s the real reason I’m procrastinating. I want to have my cake, and eat it, too. I want my freedom to live my life with Sawyer, find out what that looks like without my family’s interference.

“Is there anything I can do?” Gail asks when we get outside. We’re flanked by the bodyguards Sawyer mentioned, and there are two cars waiting for us. Her shoulders slump when I shake my head. “I’m here if you need me, Luce. Day and night. And umm… if I think of anything that could help I’ll let you know.”

“You do that,” I say, trying to sound as though I actually believe it’s possible when in reality, I don’t. “Talk to you tomorrow?”

“And the day after, and the next day, and the—”

I interrupt Gail’s sing-song with a hug. After saying our goodbyes, I get into the second car, and sit back while the driver takes me back to Sawyer’s place. My place… our place.

With every day that passes I know I’m getting closer and closer to the deadline. I can’t keep ignoring the facts, which is also the real reason I went to Gail. I needed to make things right before my time is up. As for Sawyer… maybe I should just let myself enjoy what little time I have left.

No matter how many times I’ve gone over it in my head, I can’t sacrifice him. I just can’t—I refuse.

Sawyer

As I pack my bags in a rush, Soren and Mickey hover nearby, their smirks practically audible in the dimly lit hotel room.

“You’re really sneaking out in the middle of the night?” Soren jokes, his grin widening.

I shoot him a wry glance, zipping up my bag with fervor. “You bet your ass I am,” I reply, my tone determined.

Mickey chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. “Never thought I’d see Sawyer Perry whipped,” he teases, his amusement clear.

Rolling my eyes, I sling my bag over my shoulder. “Call it what you want,” I retort, feeling a surge of determination. The truth is that I can’t control the part of me that’s desperate to be with Lucia, to be inside her. It’s an addiction only she can satisfy and I’m done fucking fighting it.

Soren claps me on the back, grinning. “You really like her, don’t you? I mean, this is more than just the contract.”

It’s so much more than the deal I made with Tom. In fact, I don’t care about that anymore. “She’s my wife,” I answer simply.

“Fucking caveman,” Mickey chuckles.

“Well, better hurry then,” Soren says, barely containing his own laughter. “Don’t want her to forget who she belongs to.”

I punch him on the upper arm. “Dick.”

“We’ll tell Coach something urgent came up,” Mickey says.

“I never thanked you for being witnesses to our marriage,” I say, looking between them. “Thank you.”

---