Angel’s Promise by Aleatha Romig

Emma

My head shook once before I tilted it toward the door to the hallway. The exhaustion and frustration racking my body and mind rippled throughout my words. “Leave, Rett.”

Reaching into the pocket of his pants, Rett removed my wedding rings. Placing them in the palm of his hand, he extended his hand my direction. “You forgot these.”

Instead of reaching for them, I began walking the other way, toward the door—the one that was supposed to be locked—and reached for the knob. Pulling the door inward, I stood silently. For only a moment, my gaze met Ian’s. In that same moment, it appeared Ian realized what was happening and with a slight bow, stepped away.

“Emma,” Rett said, coming my way.

This was one of those moments. If the door remained open, Rett might leave, but on the other hand, leaving it open meant we had an audience. If I closed the door, Rett’s departure was delayed; however, being only the two of us, I had an open floor to speak.

Rett reached over my head for the edge of the door, facilitating the choice.

“Leave,” I whispered.

With his lips straight and his expression grim, Rett shook his head as his dark stare stayed fixed on me.

I lowered my voice. “If you close that door, you will hear me out.” I was staring directly at him. “If you expect anything else, go.”

Holding the edge of the door, Rett replied with pressure to the door.

Fine.

I stepped out of the way, and he closed the barrier to the hallway. For a moment, Rett stared at the addition of the new dead bolt before turning toward me.

Fisting my fingers, I crossed my arms over my breasts. “I don’t want you here.”

“You’re stating the obvious.” Rett tugged one of my hands loose, pried open my fingers, and laid the rings in my palm. “These belong to you.”

My fingers curled around the set before opening and exposing the two rings—the large heirloom diamond and the diamond band—within my grasp. I lifted them toward him. “Maybe they don’t. Maybe our marriage isn’t finalized.”

“They’re yours either way.”

When Rett wouldn’t take the rings back, I walked to the small table, a place where I ate when in this suite, and laid them on top. Spinning toward Rett, I asked, “What is happening with the marriage certificate?”

“What do you want to happen, Emma?”

“Right now, I want you to go.”

“This is my house, our house,” he corrected.

“You know what I mean.”

“I fucked up.” His volume rose. “I am sorry.”

I clenched my teeth as I studied the man before me.

Was there remorse in his expression or was I projecting what I wanted to see?

In the grand scheme, there was so little I knew about Everett Ramses. I had no way of comprehending how often he apologized or if he ever apologized. In that second, I also had another revelation. It was a new understanding of his response nearly a month earlier when I’d said the same words to him.

“In your words, Rett, apologies are superfluous. You’re saying it to make yourself feel better.”

He nodded. “I was right then and you are now.”

My hands dropped to my sides. “So that’s the only reason you apologized, to make yourself feel better. Did it work?” I asked. “Do you feel better?”

“No, and it’s not the only reason.”

“Did you mean it? The apology?”

“What I said before is accurate. Apologies don’t work in this world because usually the result of whatever happened is life or death. This situation is different, and I do mean it.”

I wasn’t ready to let him off the hook, not now—not yet. In all honesty, I wasn’t sure if I ever would be. “It’s not good enough.” Before he could respond, I went on. “My feelings are justified. Don’t pretend they’re not. I’m upset. I’m disappointed and dismayed.” I let out a breath and after lifting my arms, I let my hands fall, slapping my robe-covered thighs. “I’m all those things at you and at me. I know that I’m to blame.”

Rett took one step closer and stopped. “What you said earlier...I acted like a dick. That isn’t your fault.”

“You’re right. That isn’t my fault. What happened a few hours ago is completely your doing. My culpability goes back to over a month ago. I’m the one who let you fill me with tales of lore, fate, and deals.” A rogue tear fell from my eye, but I didn’t bother wiping it away as I steadied my voice. “I fell willingly into this messed-up fairy tale that you fed me. The first night, you told me to admit to myself that it was exhilarating to be pursued by you.” I shook my head. “It was. I fell for it all.” I shrugged. “I guess that makes me the biggest fool. I am, after all, ultimately the person who’s responsible for my being here.” My volume rose. “What happened—what you did—earlier today is not my fault. That blame rests solely on you. My mistake was in trusting you.”

“Fuck.” Rett’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he nodded. “You can trust me. I never lied. I told you that as my wife, there was an expectation.” When I didn’t reply he added, “I never hid that I’d have—”

“Wants?” I interrupted, offering him alternatives, each one louder than the last. “Demands? Domination? I’m not Jezebel. I’m not a whore to be used whenever you see fit.”

“You don’t get it.”

“You’re right. I don’t. And neither do you.”

“Jezebel is more than a whore.”

His assessment caught me off guard. “What is she?”

Rett sighed as he shrugged. “Some would say a sorceress, others a businesswoman, others still would say she’s bent on revenge.”

My head tilted as I tried to understand. “Why does she want revenge against you? What does any of that have to do with Kyle?”

“All I care about is how it relates to you. With me you’re safe.”

Safe.

That wasn’t how I felt in his office.

Then again, I didn’t feel unsafe or in danger. I felt...

I pushed that thought away—I didn’t want to evaluate those feelings further.

Inhaling, I turned and walked into the library. Perhaps it was a change of scenery I desired. I lifted my face to the early evening sun shining through the skylight.

Rett’s voice infiltrated the room as the sun’s rays warmed my skin. “You said you’d trust me.”

I didn’t turn toward Rett’s voice. Instead, I let his words register, soaking them in like my skin was soaking in the sunlight from above.

“You promised.”

I turned to him. “What you did downstairs made me feel like I felt with those men. That evening you saved me. Today you were my assailant.”

The tendons in Rett’s neck pulled tight as did the muscles on the side of his face. “That’s not a fair assessment.”

“It’s an honest one.” The memory of the rings in the other room came back as I turned back to the skylight. “Are we or are we not married?”

“The certificate was signed. The court has record. Due to the unusual circumstances, the court is sending a representative here this evening for us to add another signature to the printed photo. That will then be notarized.” He exhaled. “It’s unusual, but my attorney has been working on everything and the other alternative is to sign a new certificate. Either way, one more signature and everything is legal.”

Taking a deep breath, I peered around the library, seeing that the shutters were still in place.

I’d received a promise from Ian that the shutters would be gone. Did their presence mean he’d lied or that it just hadn’t happened yet?

I’d promised to trust. I’d promised to sign. Not doing either at this moment didn’t null and void my promise; it was a delay. “I would rather not.”

“Fuck, Emma, that isn’t an option. Don’t you understand that if we’re not married, you’re vulnerable, not only to Kyle but also to legalities.”

“What legalities?”

“I should have told you sooner. It’s about Ross Underwood.”

“So he is dead, and you knew?”

Rett nodded. “I found out during your first full day here.”

My lips came together as I sat on the edge of the long chair and covered my knees with the end of my soft robe. “That would be a month ago or more and you’re finally mentioning it?”

“Yes.”

“Because you were caught withholding information.”

“No, because there was nothing you could have done about it had you known.”

I took a deep breath. “You seem to believe you are the almighty imparter of all knowledge, as if you have the right to divulge information to me or keep it from me.”

Rett slowly turned, running his large hand down his face. He was still dressed as he’d been in the office, a light blue button-up shirt, the collar open and sleeves rolled up. His dark gray pants fell to his leather loafers, and if I was to guess, my come still adorned his cock hidden beneath. Instead of thinking about that, I concentrated on the fatigue showing in the small lines on his handsome face.

Finally, he spoke. “There was nothing you could have done.”

I stood. “That isn’t the point. Did you ask me to be your wife, your queen, or your whore?”

“Emma, you’re being ridiculous.”

I stepped toward the doorway to the bedroom as Rett seized my arm.

“You want honesty?” he asked, his words coming quicker. “I want all three from you.”

My breathing stuttered as I stared his direction.

“You wanted honesty.”

“I-I guess...”

Taking my hand, Rett dropped to one knee. “My mother was wrong, asking the question isn’t easy.”

“Why do you want to marry me?”

His nostrils flared as he inhaled. “I want to know that you’re always here.”

“You don’t want consequences for your actions. You want a little woman who is at your disposal.”

He nodded as he extended my fingers, ran his finger from the faint white line at my wrist and over my hand. When his gaze returned to mine, my breath caught. I couldn’t explain the sensation, but I saw more. Maybe it was the glare of the sun through the skylight, but in that second, it was as if I saw deeper into Everett Ramses than I’d ever seen, or maybe for once, I was being allowed to see what he rarely showed.

The timbre of his voice had my attention. “You were conceived to reign over New Orleans. That’s why I want you beside me as my queen. It’s your fate to rule this city. And as for being my wife, I want that. It fucking kills me to imagine you sleeping up here.” His gaze went toward the opening to the bedroom. “And if you think a lock can keep me out, you haven’t been paying attention.”

I had been paying attention. That was why I also asked for the dead bolt.

Rett inhaled. “As for a whore...” His head shook. “I didn’t mean for you to think of me like those men. That possibility never crossed my mind. It also isn’t right to say that I have needs that supersede yours but instead that we both have desires. What I want is for us to fulfill them together.”

“Rett.”

He tugged my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles. “Emma, you know you can believe me. You said you’d trust me.” When I didn’t speak, he stood, still holding my hand. “I fucked up this afternoon. However, I’ve been upfront about what I wanted. I never misled you. I am a man who thrives on power. I crave your submission.”

I shook my head as I looked from where he was holding my hand back to his eyes. “I didn’t give that today. You took it. It’s not the same.”