Chapter 18
KATE
Fan-fucking-tastic. Wolf is squirreled away here in Da’s office, the two of them thick as thieves. I wonder what they’re negotiating now—maybe how much extra Da will pay if Wolf puts a baby in me within a month. A boy. Da wouldn’t spring for the disappointment of a girl.
Wolf stands when I enter, looking as calm and calculating as ever. For just one moment, I wonder what it would take to devastate that serenity. Maybe shoving a finger up his arsehole when he’s least prepared.
Before I can get too distracted, Lochlann trundles into the office. “Sorry, boss,” he says. “She wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
I hope Lochlann O’Brian is better with a gun than he is at facing down an angry woman—otherwise, Da’s life is in serious danger. All I had to do was howl when the eejit grabbed my arm, and he backed off.
Da sighs, and I almost choke on the reek of cigar smoke. “What’s the problem now, Kaitlín?”
One glance at his computer screen, and I can see he’s going over the Cayman accounts with Wolf. He’s probably been going on about his net worth, too. I honestly don’t think Da understands the difference between a million and a billion. He just thinks they’re both large numbers.
If I slapped my da a million times and each blow took one second, I’d get the job done in eleven and a half days. If I slapped him a billion times, it would take almost thirty-two years.
And I’m thinking about starting a countdown now. “You told Mam she could have my bedroom.”
“You’ll be living with your husband after the wedding,” he says, like he’s teaching ABCs to a toddler.
“She and her shitehawk designer are up there taking measurements. She’s turning it into a closet for shoes.”
He shrugs. “She has a lot of shoes.”
“She’s moving me to the feckin’ cellar so they can start building out tomorrow!”
“You spend all your time staring at a computer. Who cares where your room is?”
“The wifi signal is shite in the cellar!”
“Orla!” Da calls, because he’s a dickless wonder, and he doesn’t have a clue what to do with me when I’m raging.
“Sweetheart,” Mam says, gliding into the room so fast, I know she was lurking right outside. I’m not sure if the endearment is meant for Da or me. It depends on which of us she wants to manipulate most.
Da just waves his hand, like he’s used up all his words for today. Wolf is still standing, watching the three of us like we’re putting on a play for his sole enjoyment.
Mam croons, like she’s talking to an injured bird. “Katie. A stór.”
Me. I’m the one she wants to jerk around. But I am absolutely not her treasure. And I haven’t answered to that hated nickname since I was eight.
She makes her voice shake, like she’s on the verge of tears.
“Katie, I never imagined you’d feel this way.
I only considered the remodel in the first place because the thought of walking by that room every day…
of knowing that my little girl…that the baby who made me a mother is all grown up now and living in her own home…
A Lynch woman offers up her pain to the clan, but that might be more than I can bear. ”
This is what Mam always does—crank the volume to eleven and turn the spotlight straight on her. We aren’t talking about me anymore, about my bedroom, about the wi-fi. We’re only talking about all the ways poor Orla Lynch will suffer.
The scar above her lip looks like a trail of snot running from her nose.
“There,” Da says, like he’s negotiated peace in the Middle East. “You have to understand that, Kaitlín.”
Mam sniffs and taps her fingertips beneath her eyes, so we can all understand she’s crying. “If I thought for one second that you’d be upset... Katie, darling, it destroys me that you feel this way. That I’ve added even one ounce of stress, when this should be the happiest time of your life.”
“Happy, my arse! I’m being bulldozed into an arranged marriage with a man I hate!”
“Katie!” Mam sounds shocked. “Mr. Wolf,” she says. “I’m so sorry you had to hear that. She doesn’t mean it. She’s just so overwrought, with wedding plans and all. No offense intended.”
The corners of his lips turn up in the closest thing I’ve seen to his smile. “None taken. Kate is such a sensitive soul.”
I flip him off with both hands. Mam staggers toward a chair like she might faint. I keep my voice even as I announce: “I’m moving out.”
That brings Da back to the fight. “Not without a wedding ring on your finger.”
“What do you think will happen Da? It’s not like I’m a feckin’ virgin.”
Mam gasps. Wolf smirks. Da finally swings his feet to the floor, ignoring an ominous groan from his chair. Slamming his hands onto his desk, he shouts, “No daughter of mine is living on her own! You stay under this roof until you’re married, Kaitlín, and that’s final.”
I can read his flat face like he’s a graphic novel. He wants me to pay him off—one last dip into my Red Cap winnings.
Well, that cupboard is bare. With Wolf shutting down our grab on Banque Wagner, I don’t have a penny in Red Cap funds.
But I’m a Lynch. Despite everything, I’m loyal to my clan. Even if they’re selling me off to my sworn enemy, hoping for a bigger take down the road.
Da wants a shot at Wolf’s money, along with Lone Wolf’s hacking skills? Fine. I’ll manage that now. And be out of this feckin’ madhouse forever.
I turn to Wolf. “Let’s go to the county courthouse. Now.”
“It’s Sunday,” he points out. “They’re closed.”
A little shriek of frustration squeezes out of me, like I’m a kettle on the hob. “Tomorrow then. We’ll get married tomorrow.”
“There’s a waiting requirement.” That comes from my sister. Breagha’s standing by the door, looking poised and beautiful as ever in a flowered dress and ballet flats. I have no idea how long she’s been listening. “Forty-eight hours,” she adds helpfully. “After you get the license.”
“Fine! Wednesday! We’ll get married on Wednesday!”
“I’m sorry,” Wolf says, sounding suspiciously sincere. “I have an all-day meeting on Wednesday. Something I can’t move.”
I grind my teeth so hard I think one cracks. “All right,” I say without opening my jaw. “Next Sunday. We’ll get married next Sunday.” I hold up a hand before Wolf can remind me the courthouse will be closed. “At St. Brigid’s.”
Breagha clears her throat. “It’s still Lent,” she says. “You can’t have flowers on the altar for a Sunday wedding. And you’ll have to use the scripture for the day. You can’t choose your own.”
How the hell does she know this bollocks? Is she secretly studying to become a nun? I glare at her. “Do you honestly think I give a shite about flowers? Or scripture?”
“Of course not,” she says softly.
“Any other objections?” I growl, glaring at everyone else in the room because I feel like I’ve just kicked a puppy.
Of course Mam has something more to say. “Doing things so quickly, a stór. People will think you’re…” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “Expecting.”
“So they think I’m up the duff!” I shout. “Who the fuck cares?”
I don’t mind feeling like I’ve kicked Mam.
“Breagha,” I say, because I know when to recruit an expert. “You’ll be my maid of honor?”
She clasps her hands together. “Of course!”
“And Da? You’ll pay for this?”
“Kaitlín…” He gestures at his desk. At his computer. At the floor. “The past few months, I’ve had some unexpected expenses. It’s just a little problem with cash flow…”
Cash flow. Like the millions he’s paying Wolf to take me.
That fee dwarfs the Red Cap money I pay over to the Crew.
Da must be liquidating assets to get me out of his house.
That means he’s expecting Wolf to pay off in the not-too-distant future.
Da thinks he’ll make more off my fiancé than he can off me.
There’s no reason to argue. Instead, I turn to said fiancé, whose lips twitch in something I think is amusement. I hold out my hand, snapping my fingers to emphasize my point.
Wolf understands perfectly. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a money clip. It only takes him a moment to liberate a sleek black credit card. Before he hands it over, he peels off some paper money as well, ten crisp hundred-dollar bills.
“Let me know,” he says dryly. “Whenever you need more.”
“I will,” I promise. “You can be fucking sure of that.”