nt, predatory grace of a shark. Inside, the car was a tomb of si

someone else's life. Her fingers, of their own accord, began to twist the fabric of her new Chanel jacket, knotti

d covered hers, s

to look at Julian. He was leaning back

oice a low murmur. "The doors aren

was a challenge. A test of her r

liberately, pulled her hand from under his. "A Carlisle never

his lips. He settled back

e New York City Marriage Bureau at City Hall. A light, feathery snow had

hen turned and offered his hand to her. For a moment, she hesitated. Taking his hand felt like a point

firm, his skin warm against her cold fing

n cheap, rented tuxedos and white dresses, others in jeans and t-shirts-all waiting in line, clutching paper

d her down a quiet, wood-paneled hallway, away from the public waiting areas. He stoppe

them inside his private chambers. He stood as they entered, a r

and power to sweep away the standard 24-hour waiting period, to bypass every rule tha

d. Penelope took the pen. Her hand hovered over the line for "Spouse

hands resting on the back of her seat. His breath was warm against her neck

a second. Then she wrote her name, t

own name with a quick, decisive flourish. Th

icial, embossed seal, and then gestured for the

f them in a stuffy, book-lined office, the only sound the soft hiss of

looked at the man standing before her. A man she had known for less t

he words felt like

for a moment, she saw something in them beyond calculation a

voice firm and resona

ork, I now pronounce you husband and wife," the judge

ty. She prepared to offer her che

n had oth

p her face, his thumbs gently stroking her ch

ssessive. It was a kiss that sealed a contract, a brand of ownership. It wasn't about passion; it was

away, she was breathl

, held out a crisp, official docu

off her. He folded it neatly and tucked it into the

ked grin spreading across his

ame rolling off his tongue w

as no longer Penelope Carlisle, the discarded daughter. She was Mrs. Astor,

ngers lacing through hers, a g