Page 53 of Marrying My Professor

"Mr. Draven, Miss Cross," she greets us, consulting her notes. "I understand you're here for a civil marriage ceremony."

"Yes, your honor," I reply.

She looks between us, and I can see her making assessments. The age difference. The tension radiating off both of us. The fact that we're here on a Tuesday morning with no family, no friends, no flowers or celebration.

"Do you have witnesses?" she asks.

"Just us," I say.

She nods. "The bailiff can serve. Mr. Henderson?"

A bored-looking man in his fifties appears from a side door, taking his position as she directs.

"Very well." Judge Reynolds opens a small book, clearly working from a standard script. "We are gathered here today to join Alexander Draven and Elara Cross in matrimony. This is not a commitment to be entered into lightly⁠—"

I almost laugh at that. Lightly doesn't begin to cover what this is.

"—but with full understanding of its significance. Before we proceed, I need to confirm: are both parties entering this union of their own free will, without coercion or duress?"

Elara's eyes flick to mine. I can see the lie forming on her lips—yes, of course, absolutely no duress here, just two people madly in love and definitely not being forced into this by a secret society that murders people—but she pauses.

"Yes," she says finally, and I hear the truth beneath it: I'm choosing this. Even though I hate it. Even though it's not what I wanted. I'm choosing to live.

"Yes," I confirm.

"Do you have vows you'd like to exchange?" the judge asks. "Or would you prefer the standard ceremony?"

I look at Elara. We hadn't discussed this. Hadn't planned anything beyond showing up and signing papers. But standing here, in this depressing courthouse with its flickering fluorescent lights, I realize I need to say something. Need her to understand what this means to me, even if she doesn't feel the same way.

"I have something I'd like to say," I tell the judge.

She nods. "Go ahead."

I turn to face Elara fully, taking her hands in mine. They're cold, trembling slightly, and I run my thumbs over her knuckles in what I hope is a reassuring gesture.

"Elara." Her name feels different now, weighted with meaning I can't quite articulate. "This isn't how either of us imagined this moment. This isn't romantic or planned or anything resembling normal. But I need you to know something."

She's watching me with those impossibly green eyes, and I can see a dozen emotions warring in them—fear, anger, confusion, and something that might be hope.

"It's not like we weren't going to be circling the same drain trying to get with each other for the rest of our lives anyway," I say, and I'm rewarded with a small, startled laugh that breaks some of the tension. "From the moment I saw you in that ballroom, I was done for. I just didn't know it yet."

Her breath catches.

"I know this is happening too fast. But I promise you—I swear to you—I will be the best husband I can be. I will protect you. I will help you find the truth about your brother. I will never lie to you, never hide things from you, never make you feel like you're less than my equal partner in this insane situation we've found ourselves in."

I squeeze her hands, needing her to feel the sincerity of what I'm saying.

"And I pledge my loyalty to you, Elara. Not because the Veritas demands it. Not because of some blood oath or binding ritual. But because you're worth it. Because in three weeks, you've gotten under my skin in a way I didn't think was possible anymore. Because when I think about the rest of my life—however long or short it might be—I want you in it."

The courtroom is silent except for the hum of the overhead lights.

Elara's eyes are shining with unshed tears, and for a moment, I think she's going to tell me to stop. Tell me this is too much, too fast, too real for something that's supposed to be temporary.

Instead, she takes a shaky breath and speaks.

"Alexander." My name in her mouth sounds like a prayer and a curse all at once. "You're right. This isn't what I imagined. I always thought when I got married, it would be to someone I'd known for years. Someone I'd dated, lived with, built a life with gradually. Not a man I met three weeks ago who tied me up in a sex club and then saved my life by condemning himself to eternal servitude."

A surprised laugh escapes me at the blunt summary.