“You’re really going through with it, aren’t you? The whole white dress, the ‘until death do us part,’ the Aldridge name—all of it.”

Sandro didn’t wait for an answer. He stood on the balcony of his penthouse, his back to the city skyline that glittered like a spilled box of diamonds. In his hand, a glass of expensive scotch remained untouched, the ice cubes slowly melting into the amber liquid. He didn’t need to turn around to know she was there. He knew the weight of her footsteps, the rhythm of her breathing, and the way the air seemed to shift and settle whenever she entered a room.

Celeste stepped...