Chapter Four
Pope
From the moment my parents met, it was obvious how different their backgrounds were.
He came from a family of criminals and gamblers and she, from a family of lawyers.
Her parents spent a lot of time away from home, leaving space for her to meet someone like my father.
My mother only married the great and powerful Deacon Cassidy because she thought the fairytale he was selling her—a criminal changing his ways because he fell in love with a girl from the right side of the tracks—was true.
She could not have been more wrong. After years of relentless emotional and physical abuse, my mother left him when Bishop and I were only four years old.
We haven’t seen her since, but her image lives on in the face of my twin brother.
That’s why Deacon hated him so much, every time he looked at him he saw the face of the woman who escaped him.
I’ve never understood love. Never thought I would fall victim to that kind of weakness but the last two weeks have proven that perhaps I am not as strong as I thought myself to be.
Sienna Ford strips me bare.
A weakness I cannot afford but one I cannot prevent. She turns me into a sap with a single touch. My name on her lips could and has brought me to my knees. One look at her and I forget that I have a life outside this apartment.
Two weeks. That’s how long she’s been living with me and it’s been both the best and worst experience of my life.
My desire for her seems to grow by the day.
Every night, I touch her, bring her to an orgasm with my hands and mouth, seek my own the same way, but I still haven’t taken her virginity.
I know that deep down she wishes she were marrying me for love, not for what I can offer her, and I am hoping that by waiting until our wedding night, I can at least uphold one part of her fantasy.
We have a deal. A contract. One that states sex should be involved in the arrangement, and yet, I hold back.
The thought of being her first man and planting a baby in her womb has me feeling every bit of feral possessiveness but…
Fuck!
I rake a hand through my hair as I try to focus on the emails I’m reading.
I ought to focus on work and push her out of my mind but it keeps going back to her.
And to the fact that I am yet to make love to her, despite the desire clawing at my chest. The truth is, Sienna doesn't even seem opposed to the idea. She kisses me without prompting and seems to be genuinely happy when she sees me at the end of the day. Hell, she’s been having a time with the wedding planning with her mother and spending more time with her brother.
She seems eager to please me at night and I can’t tell if it’s because she actually wants me or if it has something to do with the fact that I arranged better doctors to oversee her brother’s care.
I’m keeping my end of the deal, am I not? Sex shouldn't be this hard for a man like me, but every time I think of crossing that line, I feel guilty. It's almost like I am taking something from her and all the money I give her could never equate to what I would be getting from making love to her.
“So, what do you think?”
I pull my eyes from my phone and turn around.
I didn't hear her walk out of the bathroom, too distracted in my thoughts, but the second I see her, every other thought seems to leave my brain.
She's wearing a stunning blood red gown with onyx accents.
It slicks down her body, perfectly hugging her figure in all the right places.
Her blond hair is pinned high on her nape to reveal the sleek line of her neck and delicate silver chain with a simple palm tree pendant—a gift I gave her when she agreed to the engagement.
She spins around to show me the back of her dress and I damn near swallow my tongue at the dip of the dress that ends just above her waist before molding perfectly to her butt.
When she turns around to look at me, her smile falls. “You don’t like it?”
“Like it?” I laugh, my voice tight as I get up and cross to her.
I cup her cheek and press my lips to hers, fighting the emotions that clog my throat.
She chose the club’s colors for her gown and out of the jewelry I’ve gifted in the short weeks we’ve been together, she chose to wear the one that matches my tattoo.
The one that symbolizes that she isn’t only under the protection of the Steel Sinners, but family as well.
Not the rare blood red emerald necklace I gifted her weeks ago or the teardrop diamond necklace.
No, she chose the simple silver necklace with a palm tree pendant.
“You look stunning, Sienna. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen.
" And isn't that the honest truth? Her radiance doesn't just shine on the outside but the inside too.
Is it a wonder that I've found myself falling for her?
“I’m glad you like it. I made the dress myself.”
“And you did a fantastic job,” I say, taking her mouth in another kiss, careful not to muss up her hair as I do before pulling back to look at her, grinning when I find her eyes a little dazed. “You look beautiful tonight, although…”
Her brows arch. “What?”
“Hmm, I think you’re missing something still.”
“I am?” She pulls back to check herself over and while she’s distracted, I grab the box sitting in my pocket and drop to one knee.
Her head whips to me and I watch as those beautiful eyes widen with surprise as I pop open the box to reveal a ring.
The instant recognition in her eyes makes it all worth it.
I had every intention of buying her a diamond ring and consulted her mother to understand Sienna's taste, but Elise offered her own engagement ring.
Watching the instant recognition of the ring and the tears that flood those beautiful, honeycomb eyes moves something in my chest. "You talked to my mom. When?”
“Usually, it’s the guy on his knees that asks the questions,” I tease her and it does my heart good to see the watery smile. “Sienna Ford, will you do me the honor of being my wife?"
“Yes!” she laughs, nodding as she offers me her left hand.
I put the ring on her finger before bringing her hand to my lips.
I kiss the ring, then push up to kiss her lips.
We’re both panting when I pull back from the kiss and damn, it’s tempting.
So fucking tempting to strip her of her sexy gown and make love to her all night.
We could forget the engagement party waiting at the restaurant downstairs and have our own up here but… I don’t.
The past few days have been stressful as one thing after another has been coming up and delaying Sienna's plans.
It's hard enough as it is to plan a wedding in such a short time frame but little things have been happening—vendor cancellations, lost reservations, or deliveries going missing or never arriving—making the arrangements extra stressful. We chalked it up to bad luck, but I could see how stressful it’s been for Sienna.
And tonight, my beautiful bride-to-be needs to go out and finally enjoy a night she’s worked so hard on. No, I won’t keep her here on the account of my selfish desire.
“Are you ready to go?” I ask, kissing her temple.
"Not yet, I need to fix my hair and freshen my makeup since you messed it up," she says, grabbing the hem of her dress and rushing back to the bathroom. I slide my hands into my pockets to stop myself from following her. We'll never make it down if I do.
And to think I was horrified by the prospect of getting married, annoyed by the conditions my old man had left behind and now, fuck, I can’t imagine not seeing Sienna’s bright smile, lying down with her soft body pressed against mine or waking up to her angelic face.
It makes sense why my old man never forgot my mother. He never moved on because he loved her in his own twisted way. There will be no moving on after Sienna Ford. Once she becomes a Cassidy, I'll just have to find a way to ensure she stays mine forever.
It seems I have fallen in love with my little rabbit.
***
Music swells through the room, champagne bottles are popped and chatter swirls around me as the night winds.
I’ve had my share of congratulations, toasted with nearly every guest in attendance and I can’t help but wonder if their sentiments would be the same if they knew the reason behind this wedding.
The details of the will are on a need-to-know basis, and the majority of people in this room are oblivious to the reasons for this engagement or the quick wedding that will follow.
I stand by the wall, champagne in hand as I watch my bride-to-be, the smile on her face genuine as she chats with her friends and family. I know she feels guilty about lying to her family but I’m going to make sure it’s not a lie.
Our marriage will be as true as can be.
When the music softens, I decide it’s time to take my fiancée to the dance floor but I spot a figure standing alone, brooding and that stops me in my tracks.
Bishop and I haven't spoken since that day after the burial and my effort to reach out to him has been met with silence.
I question how I would have felt if the roles were reversed—if everything we'd worked toward was left to Bishop instead.
It would have pissed me the fuck off but I would have tried to work things out with my brother—something he hasn't tried to do.
What the fuck was written in his letter?