CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Griffin – July
T he Sterling hotel sits on Fifth Avenue and is owned by the Hart brothers, who inherited their billions and this hotel from their father. They didn’t have to spill blood to get their wealth or their status as New York City royalty.
Yet five years ago, my brothers and I came to this hotel looking to spill blood. Right here in the lobby.
Good times...
I consider how far we’ve come. How savage we were, wanting to hurt a man who we thought took advantage of our sister.
“Why is your marriage license crumbled?” Shane asks me as I dress in the villa Sabine gave us for the wedding. “Is that...mud?”
I turn to him. “How do I look?”
“I don’t get why you didn’t go for a tux. This is a fancy hotel.” Shane adjusts his tie. “And you didn’t answer me.”
Because I’m appalled at myself for what I did to Ava. But she’s slept in my bed every night without so much as a pillow between us. And when I wake up in the middle of the night, she’s curled into me, her hand on my chest.
When I tell Shane that after I forced Ava to marry me in City Hall at gunpoint, she tried to scale the wall in my backyard and fell into a mud pit, he stares at me, agog.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” He smacks me with the marriage license. “Ma didn’t raise you or any of us to treat a woman like that.”
“Ma hadn’t met Ava, or she’d have adjusted her expectations.” I search for the cart of alcohol someone wheeled into the villa earlier.
“Doing a shot for the ceremony?” Shane taunts me.
“Did Ma kick the bucket and leave you in charge?” I bring the bottle of Maker’s Mark to my lips, but freeze, my gaze locked on the doorway.
My sister strides into the bedroom wearing a pale green satin pantsuit and cream-colored jeweled flats. Her copper hair, darker and richer than mine, sits on her shoulders in soft waves. For a split second, I see what my daughter would look like if I had one.
Good Christ...
“Sabine...” I choke up, gazing at her.
“I agree with Shane,” she says, her accent somehow stronger than ours. And she’s been living with these Yankees for the past five years. “But I can’t help it. We’re twins.”
I kiss her cheek. “You look radiant, lass. And healthy.”
“I feel great.” She swipes a hand across her tummy. “These arrived for you.” From behind her, she swings out a white garment bag I didn’t notice.
“What is that?” Shane asks, standing abreast of his twin.
“None of your business,” I snap at him.
Shane turns to Sabine. “Who delivered that? How do we know it’s not some kind of explosive?”
“Give me some credit.” She folds her arms. “Of course I checked it. My brother-in-law Luke is just starting to like me. I don’t want to set things back by blowing up his hotel.”
“It’s not a bomb.” I smile, checking my suit one last time.
I pass through the villa’s living room and stop, seeing Ewan, Darcy, the girls, and Connor snack on a tray of food the event manager sent up. Darcy’s parents are here, too. Her father is my half-brother Rian, who’s been driving for us. He, Trace, and Rhys are handing the security downstairs.
By the window, Ma tends to my wheelchair-bound father who we picked up earlier from the assisted living facility.
“I’ll be right back,” I say to the crowd.
“Where are you going?” Ewan asks me, getting to his feet.
“To see Ava.”
“You can’t see the bride before the ceremony.” Darcy stands up and her dress falls in a way that shows a baby bump.
Is she expecting? Again?
“Bleedin’ hell. Are you two going for some kind of record?” I whisper to Ewan.
Ewan gripes at me. “Ma and Da had six kids. So what?”
“Will you and Ava start a family soon?” Darcy asks, tucked under Ewan’s arm.
I resist an eye roll and part of me wants to shock them that I will be getting a divorce in six months. But I think that’s bad luck on a wedding day.
“Sure,” I say with a grin instead. “Tons. I’m thinking eight, nine, maybe ten.”
“You’re a dosser,” Ewan says, waving me off.
“And if I want that many, I should probably start right now.”
“Griffin!” Ma hollers at me.
“Kidding, Ma.” I shake my head and hike into the hallway.
Sabine gave us the entire floor of villas, a tradition for all family weddings. I’m the second Quinlan to be included in that. Sabine and Grayson were married here two years ago, but Ewan and Darcy married at the town council office in Astoria a few months later.
I knock on the door to Ava’s villa next to mine.
It swings open, and Lola stands there in a peach satin dress with a black ribbon around her waist. Lucia paces in front of the window, talking on her phone wearing the same dress.
Bridesmaids.
Only then does it hit me, this is a real fucking wedding. Unlike other arranged marriages where people show up knowing it’s a sham and they just want some free food and booze, Lola and Lucia think this marriage will be real.
Real as in forever .
Fuck, that makes me feel guilty. But Ava wants out, too.
“I’d like to see Ava.” I hold up my hand when Lola’s mouth opens to object. “Don’t give me the I can’t see the bride before the ceremony shite. Where is she?”
Aunt Helena stands up and shushes her daughter. She knows enough about our world not to cross me. “In the bedroom, dear.”
“Appreciate it,” I say and strut past her.
If this marriage were to last, she and I would get along. I would enjoy having her as a pseudo mother-in-law since Ava’s mother isn’t in the picture.
After a soft knock with my knuckles, I step into the bedroom and hang the garment bag on the back of the door.
Ava sits on the floor in the ball gown I chose for her. The raw silk skirt fans out all around her. She looks miserable, and I see her in that cage. My fury deepens and the feelings I’ve been holding back for her come crashing down on top of my head.
Fuck.
Her palpable sadness reminds me that we’re both hostages to this deal made by people who are now dead. Looking up at me, I expect the tears of a pouty bride who didn’t get her way. Oh no, not my Ava.
She glares at me with the rage of a groom-eating bridezilla. “What the hell do you want?”
I laugh, even though I should be mad that she talks to me that way. The sick fuck in me gets off on it. I get hard at her balls and confidence to stand her ground and speak her mind.
“Still mad at me, I see.” I bend down to kiss the top of her head.
“I said, what do you want?” She swings at my head, but I duck back. “What can you possibly want? You’re getting everything you want.”
“Kiss me.”
Her eyebrows cinch together. “Why?”
“It’s our wedding day. And I want my bride to kiss me.”
“This is getting old. It’s our wedding day, kiss me ,” she mocks me.
Murmuring curses under her breath, she gathers her skirt together to stand. But I bend down and scoop her up by the waist, pulling her toward me, her feet dangling off the floor.
“I said, kiss me.”
“I’m mad at you.”
“You won’t be in five seconds. But I want a kiss because I’m your husband and I asked for one.”
She throws her arms around me and plants her soft lips on mine, our eyes locking.
“Thank you,” I say and let her down. “Turn around.”
Blinking up at me, she obeys my command with those big eyes. When I tug on the ball gown’s zipper, she stops me. “Can’t you wait until the wedding night? ”
I lean into her ear. “If I came here to fuck you, you’d be on that bed taking my cock by now with that dress hiked up around your waist.”
“Charming. Then why are you undressing me?”
“I have a surprise.”
“We have to be downstairs in ten minutes.”
“I’m the king and you’re my queen, lovely bride. We’ll get down there when we’re bloody good and ready.” I yank the zipper down and all but pull the dress off her.
She stands there in a strapless bra and a tiny white thong. Fuck me.
“I amend my earlier statement. Knowing this is what you had on under that dress, I’d have sliced it off with my knife.”
“Why am I half naked? Or do you have an even more hideous dress for...” She stops when I grab the garment bag from the door. “What’s that?”
“A gift. For you.” I hand it to her.
Blushing, she unzips it only a few inches and then drops her head.
“Griffin,” she moans my name. “Thank you. Wait... There are two dresses in here.”
She hangs the garment bag back on the hook and takes out the dress she picked out from the wedding boutique. In both black and white. “But you said black would insult your mother?”
“She’ll get over it.” I lean on the dresser and cross one leg over the other ankle. “But I got it made in white, too. It’s your choice, Ava.”
I’d gone back a few days later and paid enough money to make sure they would be ready.
Ava’s eyes light up, gazing at the white dress. With one more glance at the black one she says, “I can wear this one to a fundraiser.”
“Good girl.” I strut up to her and kiss her, relieved when she kisses me back. “And no one will be the wiser.”
“Help me,” she says, sounding chipper.
Feeling ecstatic that I made her happy, I help her into the dress. While I maintain my earlier objection that I find the style and cut of this dress abhorrently inappropriate for a wedding, it looks fucking amazing on her.
“Can you help me with the veil?” She moves to the bed, the dress swishing from the tule at the bottom of the skirt where it flares out. “It was Aunt Helena’s. She’s mad I cut my hair. She wanted mounds of curls piled on top of my head and this thing jammed into the back.”
I finger the finely crafted but old-world style lace. “Do you want to wear this?”
Ava exhales. “She wants me to.”
I hold her face. “But do you want to wear it?”
She thinks about that. “No. But I don’t want to hurt Aunt Lena’s feelings.”
With a tight throat, I say, “All she wants is to see you happy.”
“How do you know that?”
“She reminds me of my mother.” I shrug.
“So then what do I... Wait...what is this?” Ava finds a silk-wrapped box at the bottom of the garment bag.
I brush my fingers across her short hair swept beautifully to the side. It compliments her big sable brown eyes and her strong cheekbones.
“When I made the final payment at the store, I asked the sales girl for an edgy headpiece because you cut your hair. She recommended this.”
“I wanted a headband, but Aunt Lena wanted me to wear her veil. Are these diamonds?”
“And onyx. It can be your something black.” I take the jewel-adorned headband with long satin ties and place it on her head. “Strength, courage, and loyalty.”
While Ava pulls whisps of her hair through, I tie it at the nape of her neck.
She looks in the mirror. “Griffin, this is amazing. Thank you.”
“One more thing.” From my suit jacket, I take out a silk purse. “I’m supposed to give you an actual gift according to Greek custom. Shoes specifically, but I thought you’d prefer something like this.”
Cautiously, she takes the purse and the way she squeezes it and gasps, I know she’s figured it out. Like a banshee, which is appropriate considering the gift, she takes out the white leather thigh sheath for the custom blade I had forged with an onyx and diamond handle.
To match the headband.
“I’ll only see you in this headband once, but I can’t wait to fuck you over and over wearing nothing but this knife.”
She smiles. “You trust me that much?”
I grip her chin. “I completely trust you.”
Even if that proves I’ve lost my mind.
She hugs me, and I go to let go, but she kisses me. Really fucking kisses me. I get lost in that kiss. I feel everything we’ve agreed to has just jumped out the window.
A tapping on the bedroom door makes me lurch back.
“Knock, knock.” Aunt Helena steps in and she doesn’t look surprised to see Ava in a different dress. “It’s time, you two. You look stunning, Ava.”
“I’m sorry about your veil,” she says breathless and guilty.
“Don’t be. This is your wedding.” Her eyes focus on our clasped hands. “Good job, Quinlan.”
When she leaves, Ava whispers, “You got her wrapped around your finger. I bet I can tell her you made me marry you in a T-shirt with your gun in my ass and she’ll still be crazy about you.”
“I don’t care to test that.”