"Maria will have your dress ready by noon," he added, his voice dropping back into that unsettlingly calm register. He dipped the cloth into the warm water and began to wipe her skin, his movements steady and practiced. "It's white. Silk. Something beautiful for you to wear while you say your vows."
He moved the cloth over her bruised hips, cleaning away the evidence of his violence with the same detached care one might use to wash a porcelain doll. There was no apology in his eyes, no flicker of regret for the marks he had left behind. To him, this was simply the way things were.
"We'll go to the courthouse at one," he said, setting the cloth aside. He stood up and reached for the key to the handcuffs. "I want this done before the afternoon. I have meetings."
The metal clicked open. Li
