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)
I’m left to start up the steps alone. At least until Seamus comes down to meet me.
I look at him, surprised. He stares, not smiling, cold blue eyes deadly serious as he takes my hand. “I’ll help,” he whispers, the crowd slowly sitting down and settling.
“I’m fine, really, it’s okay.”
He ignores me. I make it up the steps and take my position. Kira’s already there and waiting. Her eyes are misty with tears but she smiles through them. What’s she got to cry about? I’m the one getting sold.
I hate this. I despise the way my father keeps looking at his watch as the priest drones on. It’s terrible, all these people, and none of them really know me. No friends, nobody I really care about on my side of the aisle. Respected peers, members of the bratva, but loved ones?
None in sight.
Seamus takes my hands. It’s not part of the ceremony and the priest stumbles as he reads, but Seamus doesn’t seem to care. He squeezes lightly, staring at me, holding me with his gaze. “Me and you,” he whispers. “It’ll be fine. It’s just me and you.”
I look back and realize I must’ve been tense. He noticed and he’s trying to help me relax. I take a breath and blow it out, hoping everyone in the crowd assumes it’s just normal pre-marriage jitters instead of the existential crisis boiling in my head.
Seamus’s touch helps. It shouldn’t, but it does. His eyes stray to my dress, lingering on the pearl motif around the edge of my neckline. His expression tightens, almost like he’s in pain.
“You look beautiful,” he whispers, subtly shaking his head. “Even better than I dreamed.”
“You were imagining how I’d look?”
“I get bored sometimes.” That smirk returns. His trademark cocky smile. I’m starting to think it’s his version of a designer dress.
The priest loudly clears his throat, interrupting our conversation as he gets to the good part. We exchange rings and vows, my hands trembling the whole time, only making it through because Seamus seems so completely at ease. And if he’s calm, this can’t be that bad, right?
I turn toward the crowd, hoping to find a friendly face, but there’s nobody.
Only my father’s annoyed, impatient frown and my brother looking like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world than at his own sister’s wedding.
“You may kiss the bride.”
The words hit me out of nowhere. I wasn’t paying attention, and I’m blindsided when Seamus moves forward, slightly adjusting himself so that he’s blocking my view of anyone but him. He dips down, his lips inches from mine, but not yet touching. “Me and you, princess,” he whispers.
And finally, my husband kisses me.
It’s not church appropriate. I doubt Seamus has that in him. I’m mortified as his tongue invades my mouth and more than a few people in the audience let out an audible gasp. He dominates me with passion, a burning kiss, his taste like whiskey and ash. I put my hands on his chest, trying to move him away or at least trying to make him tone it down, but he doesn’t care.
I’m his to kiss. I’m his now.
And as he pulls away, the doors to the room burst open and armed men storm inside.
I stand dumbfounded, left reeling from Seamus’s lips. My husband shoves me behind him, hand going to his waist where he would probably have a gun. Except there’s nothing. Even a mobster leaves his weapon behind at his own wedding.
“What’s happening?” Kira hisses, grabbing my arm and standing close.
The men fan out. My father gets to his feet and there’s shouting all around us. Fear lances into my chest, at least until I recognize the man stalking down the aisle, looking grim.
“Who the fuck is interrupting my daughter’s wedding?” Papa shouts, glaring death at the captain of his personal guards, an old grizzled Russian named Vladislav.
“I apologize, Pakhan, but there’s a problem. I have to ensure the safety of everyone in here.”
More shouts, especially from the Whelan side. I move back, away from the chaos, gripping onto Kira protectively. Seamus stalks forward, wading into the yelling, shoving his way over to where my father’s standing with Vladislav and Padraig Whelan, the head of the Whelan family and Seamus’s father. The men are speaking to each other, all of them looking grim.
“This isn’t good,” I whisper, stomach knotted. Nobody would do this, not unless it was important.
Seamus turns back to me, dark look blistering, rage burning bright on his face. He storms over and I shrink back, afraid of what he’s going to do.
“What’s happening?” I ask, voice tiny. I hate myself for the fear stabbing through my stomach. I’m supposed to stand tall and proud. But here I am, acting like a child.
Seamus takes my arm tightly. His grip’s right on the edge of painful as he drags me away from Kira. She watches helplessly, reaching out like she might say something, but what can she do?