CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Ava
I n a glamorous ballroom with double-height beamed ceilings, dazzling chandeliers, and arched stained-glass windows, Griffin and I say a much different set of vows from a couple of weeks ago.
In front of a majestic stone fireplace, Griffin leans in to take his marriage kiss, and whispers, “Said I do pretty easily this time. And I didn’t even have my gun in your ass.”
I kiss him with a smile and say, “I now have a knife. Watch your back hole, husband.”
“Ouch.” He grins like he loves being threatened by me.
After the ceremony, Griffin starts introducing me to people in the lobby where the staff set up a cocktail hour. The ballroom is being converted back to a dining room for the reception. We didn’t have a big engagement party, so I haven’t had a chance to meet his close friends . The other Irish family he and his brothers had worked for.
And killed for.
Griffin steers me to several towering built men in flashy suits with beautiful wives. They all stand in a huddle near a piano under glittering lace draperies that hang from the ceiling. Immediately, I can tell all these marriages are real. A pit settles into my stomach because ours isn’t.
My new official husband does the introductions, and the names go over my head, there are so many of them.
But one name stands out.
“This is Kieran O’Rourke and his wife, Isabella,” Griffin says.
“Isabella O’Rourke. You run the O’Rourke Women’s Center,” I say, shaking her hand.
“I do.” She smiles at me. “It’s funded by my foundation.”
“That’s amazing,” I say, feeling naked without my hair compared to Isabella’s beautiful, long dark locks.
“I’m always looking for volunteers or help on committees,” she boldly hints. But it’s refreshing to hear a mafia queen runs a foundation that funds several businesses empowering women.
“Of course,” I say without thinking.
“And a check?” Griffin adds with humor in his voice.
“Put that shameful Keller fortune to good use, Quinlan,” Kieran O’Rourke says gruffly.
“I’ll talk to my lawyer.” Griffin squeezes my hand. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, we only have this place until midnight, and four hundred other people to thank.”
Griffin steers me away to meet more guests, but I zone out, unable to get Isabella and her charity out of my head. My gut stirs, mixed with a sudden desire not to run away. To stay with Griffin. To take the lemons of my failed military endeavors and make some kind of lemonade-flavored difference here.
The wedding reception goes through the typical motions. Griffin and I dance our first dance to a song I picked out for its beauty and not its lyrics which are in French.
“What does the song mean?” he asks, holding me close.
“Taking chances.” I link my wrists around his neck.
“You? Taking a chance?” He holds me by the waist, pressing his hips into me. “You leave nothing to chance. You make shit happen. And I find that sexy as hell.”
We are moved through other steps in the wedding. I dance with Ares, and Griffin dances with his mother. She chose a Celtic song that is beautiful and I’m proud to be a part of this heritage.
Griffin explains that several of the O’Rourke wives are Italian and Russian. I couldn’t pick them out. They all look so indelibly committed to their Irish husbands.
When the song is finished, Kai Powers saunters up to Griffin and signals Ares to join them. “There’s someone I want you both to meet.”
“You okay?” Griffin asks me, his lips on the shell of my ear.
My eyes wander to the line of men in dark suits and sunglasses at every entrance and in front of the windows. “Very much so. Go do your evil deeds with my brother.”
When he turns away, I slap him on the ass.
Griffin freezes, his shoulders coming up around his ears. He turns back and our gazes lock. “It’s on later, wife.”
“You better believe it’s on.” I have no idea what I’m doing, but I can’t fight what’s happening between us.
I just don’t know if it’s lust on his part, or if he’s falling for me the way I’m...
Fuck, I’m falling for him!
Needing a drink, I turn to find the bar. But steps away, Isabella and a lithe blonde with even longer hair in a braid march toward me.
“Hi,” I say to them, trying to recall the enforcer’s wife’s name.
“Can I talk to you?” Isabella says, and my stomach does a little flip.
She’s a queen and so am I. Have I done something wrong? Acted abhorrently and sullied my crown already?
“Sure. Let’s go into the lobby so we don’t have to shout over the music.” I lead them that way.
I glance at Lucia and Lola on the dancefloor having a great time. Everyone is. Like this is a real wedding. Maybe it is. Maybe Griffin and I are giving off a vibe that we...dig each other at least.
With every step I take, I grow more in love with the idea of staying in this world. Of being Griffin’s queen.
In the lobby, after glancing around, Isabella whispers, “Were you really in the Navy? And gone through SEAL training?”
I stagger back, horrified my two lives, one a strict secret, have converged. “Um.”
“It’s okay,” the lithe blonde says, touching my arm. “Griffin worked for my husband for years. They’re extremely close. Lachlan mentioned your background. We think it’s fascinating.”
I close my eyes, embarrassed because I failed out and didn’t make it. “Thank you. I’m sorry, your name again?”
“Katya.” She smiles. “It’s okay. It took a while for all the names to sink in for me, too.”
“We’re aligned. You can trust us,” Isabella assures me. “And I’m not asking to probe further into your service record. When you mentioned my women’s center, it got me thinking.”
“I was so intrigued to hear about it,” I say quickly, relieved. “What made you open it?”
“I started the foundation to provide services to women in abusive relationships. My mother...” Isabella chokes up. “My father hurt her.”
Katya looks away with a tight jaw, like that’s her parents’ story, too. Yet, I can tell their husbands adore them.
“I’m sorry,” I offer weakly, yet consider if my father ever raised his hand to my mother. And is it her body in that grave?
“Thank you,” Isabella says, bringing me back to the conversation. “The women’s center offers self-defense classes through a third-party training gym. There are only limited spots and some women have opened up to us that they’re hesitant to trust someone else outside the center. I’ve been looking for an in-house instructor to teach the classes.”
I listen to every word and the picture sharpens more with each syllable. “And you want me to do the training?”
“I hope I’m not overstepping. And I understand now that you’re Griffin’s wife, his needs come first.” Isabella glances at my mid-section. “He’ll want an heir soon. But don’t worry, my husband was the same way. A little brutish, a little demanding. I gave him his princes and he’s been a wonderful husband who fully supports my foundation. I’d love for you to visit the center. Your guards are welcome.”
For the first time, I feel like I can reach out and touch hope in this world. I understand the danger of running off even if Griffin gives me my freedom. I don’t underestimate my brothers’ ability to find me and drag me back. Exactly the way Ares did last year. This time, I will be punished because I defied him .
King Ares will see my running off as the ultimate betrayal and disrespect. But I hadn’t been able to claw through the darkness for a better alternative. Something that would give meaning to being a useless queen.
Now, one is in front of me.
I reach out to touch Isabella’s hand. “Thank you. Thank you for thinking of me. I am so interested.”
“I’ll let you talk to Griffin.” She squeezes my hand.
A part of me wants to bristle that I don’t have to talk to my husband to see if it’s okay for me to work . But the mafia doesn’t operate in the real world, and much of the sheltering of women is for protection.
I glance at Katya. “Do you...work at the center?”
Nodding, she says, “I run my own children’s dance studio, but I also offer classes at Izzy’s center. It gives the moms a place to bring the little ones and they get a small break.”
I glance at the man she’s married to, Griffin’s old boss. Admittedly, he’s the most terrifying man I’ve ever laid eyes on. This woman looks happy and loved, and not the least bit beaten down, not even emotionally.
“Here’s my number.” Isabella produces a business card. “It’s a masked number, you’ll have to go through a few steps to get to me.”
“Of course.” I take it. “I... I don’t have a card.”
I don’t have anything.
But after today, that’s going to change.