4. VIN
VIN
Isuck in a breath and glance back at Ashlyn standing a few feet behind me. She’s adjusting the belt of her robe and giving me a bright smile I can’t read.
I’m still wearing the same suit from last night but I shed the coat, shirt, and tie. Standing in just an undershirt and suit pants, I feel more exposed than I want but it’s what has to happen. It’s all part of the show.
Everyone turns our way when I pull open the glass doors.
In my hands is a white sheet—more accurately, a formerly white sheet.
I shake it open like a flag and hold it up for everyone in the courtyard to see.
It’s stained dark with bloody splotches in its center like the sheet is our contract and the blood is mine and Ashlyn’s signature.
The silence that falls lasts exactly two seconds before they erupt.
“There he is!” Declan’s voice bounces off the high ceilings as he surges to his feet, nearly knocking over his glass. “The man of the hour!”
The roar that follows is loud enough to rattle the paintings off the wall. Luca shoves a tumbler of whiskey into my free hand before I’ve even crossed the threshold, and I stand there while the MacCuinn Clan celebrate like I’ve just won a war.
I guess I did just stop a war from starting. But it doesn’t feel like a win.
Ronan closes the gap between us and claps me on the back.
“I knew you’d come through,” he says with a layer of sentimentality I’m not used to from him. “I knew it.”
I nod against his shoulder.
Declan raises his glass. “Best possible way to ring in the bloody New Year! Our sister is finally spoken for, and our brother is finally ours!”
More cheering. Someone produces a bottle of Redbreast Dream Cask that probably costs more than Sophie’s car and starts filling glasses. The fire in the massive stone hearth crackles, fighting the December cold seeping through the windows. I drop the sheet and down the whiskey, barely tasting it.
There’s a swish of fabric behind me, then Ashlyn is next to me. Her robe is silky white, which is either fucking ironic or intentional, and her thick auburn hair falls loose over one shoulder. Her smile is different now and doesn’t reach her green eyes. This smile I can’t read either.
She slides her hand into mine. I let her, but when she leans her head against my shoulder, I stiffen.
Ronan looks satisfied with himself, watching us together. He raises his glass.
“To Vincenzo Demonio,” he toasts. “Soon to be our brother in blood as well as bond. The finest man I know outside this family.” He meets my eyes. “And now inside it.”
The brothers drink as Ashlyn presses her temple lightly to my shoulder. I stare at the fire.
“I have to say,” Declan says, dropping into a chair. “I had my doubts. No offense, Vin.”
“None taken.”
“You’ve never been what I’d call a one-woman man.” Ronan grins around the rim of his glass. “But you’ve been holding it together for a year now. A full year. That’s either love or illness.”
The brothers laugh. I know I’m supposed to smile but I fucking forgot how.
“It’s commitment,” I say, and it is. Just not commitment to them. It’s impossible to keep Sophie’s face out of my head.
Ronan nods slowly. “It is,” he agrees. “And that’s why I trust you.”
He steps forward and grips the back of my neck, his forehead nearly touching mine.
“We’re going to do this right, you and I,” he says quietly. “Our fathers did everything the wrong fucking way. We won’t make that mistake.”
I look at the man I have drunk with and fought alongside and trusted with my life for years and feel like total fucking shit.
He’s not wrong about the alliance. He’s not wrong about what this means for the ports, for the family, for everything I’ve built and everything I’m about to inherit. He’s not wrong that our fathers were assholes who made every fucking bad choice in the book.
He’s just wrong about me.
“No,” I say. “We’ll make new mistakes.”
He laughs and grips my neck once more then releases me, turning back to his cousins. The room fills with noise and laughter.
Ashlyn feels like a lead weight against my shoulder. She exhales slowly and deliberately and lifts her head, lets her hand slip out of mine. She doesn’t look at me. She doesn’t have to. I know exactly how she’s feeling because I feel the same way.
Trapped.