Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 92254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“Glad we cleared that up.”
Arsen turns away. He stalks over, grabs my arm, and drags me over to where the priest is cringing in the corner. The man looks terrified and exhausted like someone dragged him out of bed in the middle of the night.
Which is probably accurate.
“Ah, Mr. Sarkissian—” That’s the first time I’ve ever heard Arsen’s last name. “You know, it’s unusual—”
“Start saying the fucking words,” Arsen snaps. He turns to face me and grabs my hands in his. “Do the short version.”
The priest clears his throat. “Right, ah, yes. Well, I suppose the only important part is the vows.” He fumbles open a well-worn bible marked with little sticky notes to a specific page and starts to read. “Do you, Arsen Sarkissian, take this woman to be your wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death do you part?”
He doesn’t even hesitate. “I do.”
The priest repeats the vows for me but has to pause to ask my name, and I’m thinking this is a total fucking mess and an obscenity and really nobody should be doing this at all. Except Arsen’s grip on my hands tightens like he’s not sure what I’m going to say and his eyes are burning into my face like he can’t possibly look away, and now the priest is waiting for me to answer.
I don’t. I can’t. I won’t. Please, God, don’t make me.
“I do,” I whisper.
“Then by the powers vested in me by the state—”
Arsen doesn’t even wait for him to finish. My husband pulls me into his arms and crushes my mouth against his in a blistering, entirely inappropriate kiss, his tongue invading past my teeth and lapping me up, claiming me, dominating me, a kiss like I’ve never been kissed before in my life, and for a dizzy moment, nobody else exists in the world.
Until he breaks away and I’m left panting in his arms.
“Get the paperwork ready,” Arsen snaps at the priest, not bothering to look at him. The man hurries over to a briefcase left on the table.
“Does that mean it’s real?” I whisper.
Arsen nods slowly. “It’s real. My wife.” And I’m starting to wonder, based on that kiss and the way he’s looking at me, if this whole thing might be about more than just the baby growing in me.
“I don’t think your brother likes me very much,” I say, staring out the window of the car. We’re headed north through the city, speeding away from the congested parts of Baltimore and toward the more spread-out suburban edges.
“It’s not his fault.”
“You punched him.”
“He needs to respect you, whether he wants you around or not.”
“What’s his deal? I mean, I know this is short notice, but—”
He glances at me. His eyes are hooded and lost in shadows from the street lights as he drives. “Our marriage is going to cause problems.”
I don’t even know how to respond to that and he doesn’t seem interested in elaborating.
Row homes disappear and are replaced by sprawling yards and Tudor-style single-family structures. Arsen keeps going until he reaches a wall-ringed property with an actual black metal gate out front. He pushes a button on his garage door opener and the gate rolls slowly aside.
“Fancy,” I murmur, and he’s smiling slightly as we roll down a twisting driveway through tall oak trees and manicured bushes until a massive building comes into view.
It’s enormous. At least the size of a city block. The front has multiple entrances and the facade looks like it’s a Swiss skiing chalet. Flowers are everywhere, beautiful and in bloom, and a fountain sputters in low track lighting. He parks and kills the engine.
“You live here?” I manage to say. “Is it a hotel or something?”
“This is my house. It’s your house too now.”
I laugh but he’s clearly not kidding. “This is crazy. This place is enormous.”
“Sixty rooms. Allegedly.” He pushes his door open and gets out.
“Wait, hold on.” I hurry after him, aware that I’m still in the wedding dress. “You’re not messing with me, are you?”
“Not at all.” He strides down a path and toward a smaller side entrance. I’m exhausted and really dragging myself after him, and I know I’m missing a ton of little details all around me, but it’s dark and I can barely stay upright.
He unlocks the door and we’re inside. Everything’s dim and quiet. Hardwood floors, expensive paintings on the walls. Wealth, taste, luxury, the kind of house I’ve never even seen the inside of, let alone walked through. I stay close to Arsen, feeling like I might get the place dirty with my poverty.
But there are odd places. Little nooks and crannies. Narrow hallways, small doors. There are murmurs all over like the walls are talking. It feels like there are eyes everywhere and I shuffle closer to Arsen, not sure why the place creeps me out so much. Maybe it’s all the dark wood and the looming paintings.