Chapter 3
RAFAEL
My collar feels too tight, my tie a noose around my throat, and I tug at it as I stand halfway up the pews of the Catholic church, studying a stained glass window depicting the Virgin Mary and her child.
“This will be perfect for the ceremony,” Lindsey Murray says in her lilting Irish accent as she walks arm-in-arm with Aisling down the aisle.
Her hair is the same striking shade of burgundy as her daughter’s, with just a hint of white lightening her temples, but rather than the impossible blue of Aisling’s eyes, Lindsey’s are a heather green, and they meet mine as she says, “And we’d be happy to host the reception afterward at our home. ”
A gentle way of saying the Chiaroscuro estate is in no shape to be hosting her daughter’s wedding.
I give a silent nod of acknowledgment, casting my gaze quickly to Aisling before turning my attention back to the stained glass. “It truly is a beautiful venue,” I say, though it feels sacrilegious to even stand on hallowed ground. I’m vaguely surprised I haven’t burst into spontaneous flames.
Miko and Sandro downright refused to come with me today, though they did say they would come to my wedding—even if it’s held in a church.
Our father might have taught us faith, but it wasn’t of the religious variety.
The faith he taught was for our family, to believe in our right to power and command, to bend this world to our will.
“It’s also the only venue I could book on such short notice,” Lindsey admits, her fair skin flushing slightly. “Good thing I still go to mass every Sunday and make large enough donations to have some sway with Father Malcolm.”
Aisling gives her mother’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Thanks, Mum.”
I don’t know why the term of endearment catches me off guard. Maybe because I never really knew my mother—but I can’t imagine having ever called my father anything but “Father” or “Don Augusta”. And hearing Aisling say it does something strange to my insides.
Because it reinforces her claim that she’s marrying me—pretending to marry me, that is—for the sake of her family.
Because she loves them.
“What do you say, Don Rafael?” Callum asks, striding toward me with who I can only presume is Father Malcolm at his side. “We can set the date for two weeks from Sunday.”
I have no idea how the Murrays intend to put together a wedding in that amount of time, but I suppose it doesn’t really matter to me.
The alliance is all I need.
“That’ll do,” I agree. “Perhaps you’d like to join my family for dinner tonight so we can discuss arrangements.”
“We’d be glad to join you,” Callum says.
I nod. “Then, perhaps you’d allow me a moment to speak with your daughter.”
The barrel-chested Irishman looks at Aisling, who gives a subtle nod. Then he turns back to me. “Of course. Lindsey and I have a few more details to discuss with Father Malcolm, anyway.”
He gestures for his wife, and Lindsey gives Aisling’s hand a squeeze before she joins her husband at his side.
With the priest, they head back down the aisle to the front of the church.
Aisling’s eyebrow lifts in silent question, her lips pursing slightly as I turn the opposite way to head toward the chancel.
Casting my eyes around the space, I check to make sure we’re entirely alone before I face her once more, stepping close to keep our voices low.
I can see the way she flinches, as if she wants to put more space between us, but she stands her ground as she meets my eye, her chin lifting in that signature sign of defiance that drove me wild from the moment I first laid eyes on her.
If I were being perfectly honest with myself, her fiery side still sets my blood alight.
But I crush the traitorous emotion before it can take root and unleash the even more overwhelming sense of guilt—because it would be a betrayal to Genevieve’s memory to feel such a thing for another woman.
So I grind my teeth and force myself to focus.
“You’re sure you want to go through with this?” I ask, voice hushed. “It’s not too late to back out.”
“Don’t you dare ask me that like you think I’m the one who doesn’t have the balls to go through with this,” she counters, her voice a soft hiss.
The determination in her eyes brings back her words from the other day, You owe me this much, Raf.
Like I’m the one who’s caused her some great harm. If anyone owes anyone anything after the way we left things, I’d say it’s the other way around.
She tricked me into thinking she was some innocent, random girl who walked into my family’s club when she knew good and well her family would kill me without a second thought if they ever found out I took her virtue.
God, I was such a fool back then.
The signs were practically screaming at me.
But I was a victim to my own desire, too lost in a pretty face and a quick tongue to notice that Aisling is about as Irish as they come.
“It’s not about which of us has the balls.
I think we both know you’ve got an iron pair.
But I do know that, unlike me or my family, yours are devout Catholics.
We’re standing in a house of God, so I feel obligated to ask.
Can you stand before a congregation and say vows you know you don’t intend to keep? ”
A hint of shame creeps into Aisling’s striking azure eyes before she blinks it away, and she purses her pouting red lips. “I’ll do what I have to and make peace with God later,” she says flatly, her fiery determination out in full force once more.
“Fine,” I say with a curt nod. Because despite my reticence to get involved with Aisling—or the Murrays—I do need their help.
And at least Aisling’s offer to fake it until we don’t need each other makes it a much more temporary situation, so even if I never intend to love another woman, a fake marriage that will form an alliance we can both trust won’t be the end of the world.
And even if it’s a risky endeavor, I think I can trust Aisling to keep our secret.
Because her parents have never mentioned a word about my past with Aisling, so she must never have said anything to her family about our three passionate nights together.
If she had, I have no doubt the Murrays would have tried to string me up a long time ago.
So at the very least, I can trust her to keep this fake marriage a secret to ensure our alliance works until our shared interests are met.
Then we can go our separate ways once more.
“If we’re going to do this—”
“Since we’re going to do this,” she interrupts, her eyes flashing.
“Since we’re going to do this,” I echo, trying my best not to roll my eyes, “I think we should establish some ground rules.”
“Like what?” she asks, her eyebrow quirking.
“Under no circumstances will we have sex.”
She does roll her eyes at that one. “Like I would ever want to have sex with a self-serving prick like you.”
Still, her cheeks color slightly beneath her freckles. I smirk because I know she can’t help but think about our time together, the pleasure I drew from her, the countless ways I made her come.
“I’ll still need to hear you say it,” I tease.
“Fine. Absolutely no sex. That’s an easy one. What else?”
“We will need to show displays of affection in public and in front of our families to make this work. If it’s going to be convincing, everyone has to believe we’ve developed a true connection.”
“That’s ridiculous. It’s an arranged marriage. No one is going to expect us to have real affection for each other,” she scoffs.
“If I’m going to trust that your family won’t turn on mine, then they have to believe this is real, that this is working.
If they think you’re unhappy—if they think I’m not a good match for you—what’s to stop them from changing their minds, going back on their word and betraying my family again?
What’s to stop them from killing me to end your misery? ”
“You make it sound like we’re nothing more than backstabbing liars,” she snaps.
“My family owed yours no loyalty in the first place. It’s not like your father encouraged good will between us.
So don’t go questioning my family’s honor or their promises just because your pride took a beating when we sided with the Tanakas. ”
“It was more than that, and you know it,” I hiss, my temper flaring white-hot as I step forward to get right in Aisling’s face.
The color drains from her cheeks, and for the first time, I catch a flicker of fear in her eyes. But she quickly hides it.
“You’re right. I recognize that your family lost a great deal that day. But I swear to you, my family’s word is good.”
“And…?” I press, unwilling to let it go.
“I will do what it takes to convince everyone that our marriage is legitimate and our alliance is worth defending.”
The ball of tension in my gut loosens slightly at that.
Getting Aisling to promise to my terms in a house of God is the closest I’m going to get to trusting her word.
Still, I intend to keep my guard up. Too much is on the line for half measures.
“Good.” I turn to walk away, but Aisling’s quick grip on my tie tugs me back toward her, and I can’t help the way my body responds to the almost provocative gesture as she jerks me close.
“You think you’re the only one who gets to set terms?” she demands, peering up at me through thick lashes.
“Alright, focosa,” I taunt. “What are your ground rules?”
“I reserve the right to visit my family whenever and however often I want,” she says.
A potentially risky concession to give if she intends to use the opportunity to pass information to her family about mine. It could be a trap. If I’m not careful, this whole scheme could blow up in my face. But I think it would be riskier to refuse and build further resentment between us.
“Fine, but you will keep the guards I assigned with you at all times when you leave the house,” I counter, hoping that will at least minimize the amount of information she will be able to pass along without my knowing.
“Fine,” she agrees through clenched teeth.
“Anything else?” I press.
Aisling’s lips part, as if another demand sits on the tip of her tongue. But after a moment’s hesitation, she simply closes her mouth and shakes her head.
“Then I’ll see you at dinner tonight.”