Chapter 4
Morning sunlight spills through the windows, casting shadows and beams of light over the hardwood floors of Cillian’s penthouse.
I’m halfway through my first coffee when his phone buzzes on the counter.
He glances at it, and his thumb skims across the screen before he pushes it toward me. “From Alek.”
I catch it before it slides off the edge and read the open message.
Blackbird. I’ve been there once before. Neutral ground in Midtown.
It’s a small, discreet café. Quaint, but usually bustling with regulars.
It will be just loud enough with brunch chatter to keep anyone from eavesdropping without effort.
Grunting, I toss the phone back to him. “I’m so fucking excited I can hardly contain myself.
I still don’t believe this is really happening. ”
“You think he’s bluffing?” Cillian winks, already pulling on his boots.
“I think he’s certifiable. And so are we for even entertaining this.” Around midnight, when I was actually thinking about going through with this, I realized that I have lost my fucking mind.
Enzo wanders in, hair still wet from a shower, buttoning the final buttons of his shirt. “Still going on about the wedding thing?”
I level him with a flat look. “You’d still be on about it too if your brothers were trying to barter you off to some hideous, otherwise-unmarriable woman just to keep their asses out of prison.”
“Hideous, huh? How do you know? Maybe she’s got a great personality,” Enzo teases with that fucking smirk spreading across his face.
Rolling my eyes, I huff, “Right. Because that’s what’s important in a marriage arranged to save our collective asses.”
“It’s your ass too,” Enzo imparts, and I shrug. Marriage or life behind bars—both are a prison I don’t want.
Cillian slips into his coat, sipping his coffee like its whiskey. “Married life isn’t that bad, Nik. I actually quite enjoy it.”
“Same.” Enzo smiles, the picture of smug domestic contentment. “Steady sex, a warm body in bed every night, someone to share my life with besides you assholes. What’s not to love?”
“Everything,” I mutter, grabbing my keys. “Come on before I change my mind about showing up for this absurd meeting.”
We head down to the garage, the hum of the city filtering in through the concrete and steel walls.
My black Range Rover growls awake as I turn over the engine, and soon we’re weaving through traffic.
Midtown blurs past in streaks of yellow cabs and pedestrians—much like my bachelorhood flashing before my eyes.
“Just keep an open mind,” Cillian says from the passenger seat, like he’s trying to convince me to try a new restaurant, not a wife.
I shoot him a look. “My mind’s open enough to imagine punching Alek in the face or putting a bullet in his head. And the same goes for the two of you for entertaining this. That’s about it.”
Enzo chuckles from the backseat. “You’re going to scare her off with that attitude.”
“Good,” I snap. “Then we can all go home and forget this ever happened.”
We drive past the café, sliding into a spot halfway down the block. My fingers flex around the steering wheel as my brothers quickly climb out of the SUV. Letting out a heavy, discontented sigh, I turn off the engine and follow behind them.
Inside, the café smells like roasted espresso and warm sugar. I spot Alek at one of the mismatched tables near the back. He’s perfectly positioned against the exposed brick wall to see the door. With one hand lazily draped around his coffee cup, he tips his head, gesturing for us to join him.
We walk through the sea of people, flitting with the low hum of conversation.
My eyes flick around the room, anxiously seeking out the hidden threat.
As I approach Alek, my gaze falls to the woman seated beside him.
The petite, platinum blonde has her hair pulled into a sleek knot atop her head.
Her small, but pert, tits are showcased with the low-cut neckline of the expensive tailored dress she’s wearing.
She glances up at me for a second, quickly diverting her beautiful hazel eyes, hiding them with her long black lashes when they fall to her coffee.
Her lips are pouty and stained a soft shade of pink.
Unable to pull my eyes from her, I’m suddenly left very aware that I’m staring.
Definitely not hideous.
“This is my sister, Ani,” Alek introduces, gesturing to the gorgeous blonde when we reach him.
Cillian takes the seat next to him, Enzo drops into the one on the end, leaving me directly across from her. Perfect. I sink into the chair, grumbling under my breath just to keep my own reaction in check.
The waitress swings by, and we order coffees and pastries. Alek doesn’t waste any time—probably figuring the sooner we talk, the sooner he gets what he wants. “So, my offer…”
“I’m not saying we agree to this—” Cillian starts.
“At all,” I interrupt, because no one seems to be hearing me on that part.
Cillian sighs like I’m a particularly difficult child. “But if we do, what assurances do we have that you’ll uphold your end of the arrangement?”
Alek leans back, calm as anything. “I’m a man of my word. It’s the only thing I have in this life. I honor it as much as I honor my family.”
“That’s rich,” Ani mutters under her breath, just loud enough to cut through the conversation and garner me a glimpse of her cute little accent. “Since you’re selling me off like a fucking cow.”
I can’t help it. I laugh. The sound bursts out of me before I can stop it, earning me a glare from Alek, a jab to the ribs from Enzo, and the faintest smirk from her. Interesting.
We get down to it. Alek lays it out. He knows exactly how we took control and that we’re also responsible for his father’s death. With that knowledge alone, he could bury us. But he won’t…
As long as I marry Ani and merge our families.
I grumble through it, tossing sarcasm like loose change.
Enzo tries to play peacemaker while Cillian keeps pressing for details.
Ani sits across from me, occasionally throwing in a sassy comment that makes me bite back a grin.
Alek sells the arrangement as mutually beneficial.
Stability for us both. Pretty words to make his blackmail sound polite.
“Along with my word,” Alek shares as he finishes, “I have no intention of leaving my sister married to a man rotting behind bars.”
“Hmmm… I had no intention of being behind bars or married,” I gruff.
But in the end, it doesn’t matter. Alek has us by the fucking balls, and if I want to protect my family, I have no choice but to go through with this.
By the time our coffees are growing empty or cold, we land on terms we can all live with. Barely.
“All right,” Alek chirps, pushing back from the table. “Let’s get these two married.”
I choke on my final sip of coffee. “Wait. You mean, right now?”
He lets out a low chuckle, helping Ani slide out from her seat. “I don’t see any point in putting it off any longer. If I remember correctly, the three of you have a judge in your back pocket. Give him a call, let him know we’ll be there within the hour.”
“The hour!” I exclaim, staring back at him blankly, the reality of my new life hitting harder than the caffeine.
Two days ago, I was a bachelor.
Yesterday, I was engaged—apparently.
And now?
Now I’m getting married within the fucking hour. I glance across the table at Ani. She’s watching me, chin tilted just slightly, daring me to protest.
God help me, this is going to be a fucking disaster.
“You’re serious,” I exclaim slowly, like maybe if I protest at half-speed, he’ll realize how fucking ridiculous he sounds.
“Deadly,” Alek says, tossing back the last of his coffee like we’ve just settled on dinner plans instead of a legally binding life sentence.
“I’m not—” I start, but Cillian’s already pulling his phone out.
“Nope.” I vehemently shake my head, pointing at him. “Don’t you dare enable this madness.”
Cillian shrugs. “You’re the one who agreed to the terms, Nik. You didn’t say anything about when.”
So much for brotherly loyalty…
“I assumed there’d be… I don’t know. Time. A week. A month. At least enough time to buy a suit that doesn’t make me look like I’ve been dragged to the altar at gunpoint.”
Enzo smirks over the rim of his coffee cup. “Wouldn’t that be an accurate visual, though?”
I glare at him, my jaw clenching tightly. “I will leave you at the bottom of the Hudson.”
Ani, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet for the last few minutes, crosses her arms over her chest. With her eyes fixed on me, she sasses, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m equally thrilled about this.”
“Oh, I can tell,” I deadpan. “You’re glowing with joy.”