Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 87695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“That’s fine by me. My two favorite traits in a wedding.”
“But I’m not sure it’ll be fine by her.”
I gesture with my beer can. “Why would it matter?”
“She’s a bratva princess, Seamus. I’m guessing she has certain ideas and expectations about her special day.”
“It’s an arrangement. She’ll get over it.”
Mom’s expression darkens. “She’s your future wife. You want to keep her happy.”
I hear Alina’s moans in my head. I see her bliss-filled face as her eyes roll back. “I doubt I’m capable.”
“Step up. And go talk to her.”
“Why me?”
“You shouldn’t have to ask that question.” She whips me lightly with a kitchen towel. “Make sure your wife knows what to expect, okay? And bend over backwards to meet any demands she might make. Keep the girl happy.”
I look up at the ceiling. God, I’d fucking love to bend her over backward…
“I’ll do my best.”
“That’s my boy.” She pats my face lightly. “Now finish cleaning up. And stop being late to dinner. I’m going to keep Bianca company.”
She fishes a soda water from the refrigerator and heads out to the den.
I linger over the sink. This is exactly what I didn’t want. A new responsibility. A person who will rely on me.
A man who is fundamentally unreliable.
I feel the breeze shift, ever so slightly, and I change along with it.
Chapter 6
Seamus
Ilinger on the sidewalk outside Fergus’s girlfriend’s place. It feels like a sticky black oil is tossed all over my skin. The way she stared at me, eyes empty and lifeless, a crying baby in the background. Fergus’s little kid. Now without a father. All for fucking what?
I promised we’d take care of her. I’ve made that promise before, and I’ll do it again. So long as the Whelan Clan’s capable, we’ll always honor those that died in our service. But it won’t be a rich life, and I sure as fuck won’t be that baby’s daddy.
Messed up situation all around. We all know the risks in this life. We accept them, but it’s one thing to know and another to see it all come crumbling down.
I take a deep breath. I brush off my arms. Bend with the breeze. When I open them again and walk to my car, it’s like I’m a new man.
That’s how I survive.
Finn answers his phone on the third ring. “How’d it go?”
“About the same as always.”
“Crying and shit?”
“Not just her. The baby too.”
He curses and lets out a long breath. “Good for you. Don’t know how you have the stomach for it.”
“That’s my job. Every man that works for me knows I’ll do it for them. It’s not much, but it’s something.”
“Do me a favor. If I get killed, don’t go anywhere near my next of kin.”
I laugh lightly. “As if you’ll ever find a girl willing to marry you.”
“One of these days I’ll trick someone, don’t you worry.”
“I won’t lose sleep over it. Except you probably shouldn’t trick a woman into being your wife.”
“Oh, yeah? I guess letting Dad pick my bride for me is better?”
“Don’t be a fucking prick, Finn. You know that wasn’t my choice.”
“Yeah, yeah, and yet here we are.”
“You’re just jealous.”
There’s a short pause. “The girl is pretty,” he concedes.
Irrationally, a strange sharp pang of jealousy tightens in my guts. I grip the steering wheel, guiding the car over toward Hudson Yards. “Don’t talk about my wife like that.”
“Like what? It was a fucking compliment.”
“Keep it to yourself next time, prick.”
“You’re so fucking bizarre sometimes, Seamus. I don’t get you. One second you act like you don’t care about the girl, and next you’re giving me shit for calling her pretty.”
I glare at the road. He’s right, and I know it. I’ve been treating this whole arrangement as nothing more than a weird little blip. Like one day I’ll have a wife the same way I might get a vacuum for Christmas.
At least until the videocall. The night in her apartment.
The stupid shit I said to push her away.
“Who do you think is stupid enough to kill one of ours?” I ask, changing the subject because I genuinely don’t know how to explain myself.
Finn seems to accept the sudden shift. “Been thinking about that myself. Could be the Polish? They’ve been getting stronger and don’t like our alliance with the Marinos and the Whelans. Could be one of the smaller Bratvas from further up north muscling in. There are half a dozen little Italian families and syndicates all over New York. Could be any of them.”
“You put out feelers?”
“Got guys searching, but nothing so far. Everyone’s denying they had anything to do with it.”
“Maybe Fergus really did get himself killed all on his own.” But the thought doesn’t sit right. His throat was cut expertly. If Fergus got into some stupid brawl, there would’ve been bruising, broken bones, some sign of a struggle.