Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
“Wait, what?” Bridget lifts her hand. “He gave you his jacket?”
“Yeah, but not like that,” I say quickly. “It wasn't romantic or anything. He's just… he's a McCarthy, isn't he? All polished up, raised to play the gentleman.”
Bridget arches a brow. “Go on.”
“Stop looking at me like that,” I say.
She’s supposed to be on my side. She’s supposed to hate him with me.
“I'm not making it anything,” she says, eyes wide with mock innocence. “Go on, then.”
So I do.
“Cavin takes me through the estate, every inch of it done up like some ancient royal family's private playground. And then… he makes a comment about a dungeon. Wait. Actually, no. I made the comment.”
I glance down, embarrassed. “I joked about it. And then he said he likes the dungeon at The Craic better.”
Bridget’s cheeks flush pink, and it’s the first color I’ve seen on her all day. She slaps her hand over her mouth.
“You didn’t.”
“I did.”
“That’s amazing.” She laughs, coughing mid-sentence.
And then the coughing takes over. It’s harsh and rattling, and her whole body trembles with it, and I just sit there, frozen and helpless.
I wait until it passes.
“Sorry,” she says, shaking her head and sipping water. But she doesn’t meet my eyes. She knows what it looks like. We both do.
“So you said dungeon, and he brought up The Craic,” she says.
“Yeah. Said he liked that one better.”
“Oh my god, no.” Bridget groans, grinning through her disbelief.
And somehow, in the middle of this twisted mess, I’m glad I went. Just for this… this sister-to-sister moment with her.
“So he showed me the garden and the library. Talked about kitchens and architecture like he was some bored realtor. But then…”
Tears prick behind my eyes. I try to swallow them down, but my voice betrays me.
Bridget’s brow furrows.
“What happened, Erin?” she whispers.
“He showed me the bedrooms,” I whisper. “He said—this one’s mine. Soon to be ours.”
Bridget’s eyes go wide. Her jaw drops. She actually looks stunned.
“He did not.”
“He did.” I lean closer, like if I get close enough, she’ll understand what I can’t say out loud.
She grabs my hand.
“But you told him that’s not happening, right? You told him—”
“I didn’t,” I say quietly.
And just like that, the tears spill over. I didn’t even feel them start. But with Bridget, I don’t need to hide.
“Mom and Dad already arranged it. My wedding.” My life. “To Cavin McCarthy.”
Bridget looks like a ghost just waltzed through the window. “You’re joking.”
“No. Remember when they talked about friendship and alliances and all that bullshit?” I laugh bitterly. “They meant marriage. They meant this. They planned it behind my back.”
“Erin…”
“I have to do it,” I say, swiping at my tears.
I won’t remind her why. Won’t remind her what I’m trading away so she can keep fighting. “Listen…” My voice is so small, I’m not even sure she hears me. “Maybe this is the way it’s supposed to go. Maybe it’s not that bad.”
Bridget stares. “Who are you right now?”
“I know. I said I’d never get married.” I swipe at my eyes, and my hand comes away black with mascara.
Fancy clothes. High heels. Makeup. All of it—just another mask.
And right now? I want to rip it all off.
My phone vibrates with a text from an unknown number.
Unknown Number
This is my number. Save it. Cavin
I tap his text, hit the options, then click Block.
There. That ought to do it.
He’s not coming into my life unannounced for another fucking second.
“You can’t marry him, Erin,” Bridget whispers, shaking her head.
I draw in a shuddering breath. “I have to.”
Chapter Ten
Cavin
I’m sitting on my bed—the big, cavernous bed that is soon to be occupied with an enemy.
I yank at the stupid tie and tug it off, tossing it next to me.
I know the McCarthy family rules like the back of my hand. I’m not only expected to marry her, I’m expected to take care of her, and I’m expected—god—expected to knock her up.
I’m tense. Dammit, I want some relief.
I want to go down to the club with my brothers, grab a woman or two or three, and relieve some of this tension. But I’m an engaged man now with an invisible noose around my neck. Better than another night of shite sleep fighting my demons.
I stand up and pace the room, my hands shoved into my pockets. Voices sound at the door outside my room, and then pass. My parents have long since gone to bed. Seamus and Zoya as well. They’ll probably go home tomorrow. Declan’s out, and Daire is too.
I text them.
Where are you?
Declan responds a minute later.
Declan
At the club. You?
Home.
I scowl at the screen.
Declan
Come join us, brother. Bachelorette party tonight. The girls are in rare form. I recommend it.
I roll my eyes heavenward and respond to him in another text.
You know I can’t do that.
Declan
Can’t? You’re not married yet.
For fuck’s sake. I toss my phone down, then pick it up again, tap out a message, and send it to Erin. I wait for her to respond.