CHAPTER 8
Luna
I can’t bring myself to open it. I used to think of myself as strong, brave.
What a joke.
Scared shitless by an email. Pathetica!
I decide to open the text.
Luna: Thanks for the quick delivery.
Vix: Thanks is unnecessary. You paid me well. Goodnight.
Luna: Wait! Question
Vix: ?
Luna: How bad is it? Do I want to know?
Vix: I don’t know you well enough to answer that.
Luna: Right. What I mean is, how much worse are your findings than the rumors we all already know?
Vix: Hard to quantify. But he is a ghost. It’s the smallest dossier of this kind I’ve ever compiled. Pleasure doing business.
I try to reply but the text won’t send. I guess she’s done chatting. What an odd duck. I switch to my mail app.
Just do it already, Luna!
Here goes nothing.
Or everything, maybe…
No…
It’s more like nothing.
She wasn’t lying about how short this document is.
I remember reading the intel she pulled about Mark White when Ellie’s marriage was arranged.
It was a thick stack of paper. This is a few sheets.
I start scanning and reading the highlights aloud as my eyes roam over the information, most of which I already know.
“Skulls Quinn…leader of the Irish mafia…killed his twin brother, the heir, when they were thirteen. Unclear if that was his first kill? Damn, I certainly hope so…At twenty-one, he killed his two uncles in order to ensure he’d take over from his father.
Right, I forgot there were uncles too. Holy shit.
“…took over at 30, father is in his seventies now and semi-retired…Skulls is reclusive, rarely seen out in Boston or photographed…owns multiple strip clubs and a few body shops for money laundering…clan handles exports out of the US and incoming product from Canada…suspected real first name is Brian.” I stop and let out an unhinged laugh that has more to do with my mental state than the subject matter.
“Brian?! No wonder he chose a cool nickname for himself. So…normal. Lame!” This tidbit makes me feel better.
Something a bit ridiculous about the mystery man.
But my smile fades as I keep reading.
Vix covers a multitude of punishments—murders—accredited to my future husband. It’s just like the whispers; decapitations, split heads, snapped necks, bullets through the forehead and both eye sockets, as if the forehead shot isn’t enough.
My stomach is so sick already, I hesitate to read the “Personal” section. But I need to know. I read out loud again to keep breathing and stop the terror from overtaking me.
“Lives in a fortress outside the city with a small army…don’t we all…
Gets around with dancers from his clubs.
Probably intimidates them into sleeping with him.
Gross…rumors of large parties and orgies.
” I look up, then back down. “Orgies?! Oh, hell no…has an affinity for alcohol, cigars, vehicles, blah, blah, same as the rest of them… and dogs…wait, dogs?” I scan faster, looking for something creepy or horrifying like he uses them for torture or makes clothes from their skins.
“Breeding and training? Trains all of their guard dogs himself…Okay, control freak much?”
Finally I get to something interesting.
DISCREPANCY:
The above information was gathered via word of mouth. Could not break into the residence network because the house does not have one. no internet, wifi, no closed camera system. Highly irregular.
Could not detect secondary hidden network or underground system.
Drone surveillance confirmed lack of cameras and network cables.
Lack of security is inexplicable, however, drone—small, top of the line military grade—was somehow detected and shot down before it could make a thorough sweep of the outskirts of the property.
Could try again with different model for additional fees.
What the hell? No wifi? I’m going to be married to a psychopath and cut off from high speed Netflix? Or if service is shoddy out in the boonies…no Instagram? No FaceTime? Absolutely not. That’ll be the first thing his little wifey has a fit about, I guess.
Speaking of…
I lean forward and move my eyes back to the bit about the orgies and the girls from the clubs.
My stomach flips.
Because I can’t tell much from this breakdown. Will he and my father expect the traditional presentation of bloody sheets? Surely not. This isn’t the eighties anymore, thank God. And everyone in our world knows I’m a virgin, Papa made sure of that over the years.
Still, I’ve heard some made men insist on “trying out” their wife before agreeing to the marriage.
And there’s his personality, if it can be called that.
This man is not right in the head. What kind of depraved, sick stuff is he going to want in bed?
Will he want it from me? Maybe I should encourage his orgy habit. Stay off his radar.
Although, that was the tactic I took with my father. Lay low, bide my time. That backfired.
So maybe I blow his radar right up? Get in his face and seduce him. Learn every single one of his secrets. Then report them to father in exchange for my birthright. Move home. Rule.
Yes. This is good. I can work with this.
My phone starts to buzz with what I guess is Ellie’s call. I forwarded the report to her, and I could use her feedback. She did just go through this a few months ago. I tap Accept.
“It’s not so bad,” she starts.
“It’s not great, either.”
“Well if you skip the killing part, he doesn’t sound so different from any other made man.”
I huff in disbelief, “Uh, what about the orgies?”
“You think your papa’s men don’t have parties where women are passed around with the drugs? C’mon Luna. I’m sure even Z and Bosco have been to those. Ugh, maybe my brothers, too.” She grimaces and I join her.
“What do you think about the lack of security?” I change the subject.
“If you have a reputation like his and a small army on the property—plus, lots of, uh, giant scary dogs, I’m guessing?—then is a security system really necessary?”
“Hm, maybe,” I say, reading the file again. She re-reads it too for a minute. “Anyway, I need a strategy.”
“Okay?” She eyes me warily.
“I was going for seduction but he has multiple strip clubs, right? So I actually think my best bet is to drive him insane. Play the worst caricature of the worst mafia wife ever, whiny, needy, nagging and irritating, right? Get him to call off the deal and send me home.”
“You think?”
“Yes,” I nod. “Then I come back and get to work on Papa and Bosco.”
She tilts her head. “How does Bosco feel about all this? Didn’t he want to marry you too? He must be so disappointed.”
“That’s funny,” I chuckle. “I never really think about him or his feelings.”
“Luna!” Ellie laughs too.
I shrug and admit, “He has always just been…Bosco. We’ve made out a few times, he knew I wanted to marry him.
He thought I loved him, probably, because I acted like an infatuated little girl around him most of the time.
But his head is always so far up my dad’s ass, I am not sure he’s capable of his own thoughts and feelings.
If he wanted to marry me he didn’t really show it or say it.
Even when he’d check me out, it was almost in a protective way, like I was too hot to be the don’s daughter.
His whole world is through that one lens. ”
“Weird.”
“It really is. So. I guess I’ll have to deal with him when the time comes. First, I have to get out of this marriage. What do you think about Operation Annoy Him To Death?”
“I like it. If he’s really as reclusive as they say, he’s probably very particular about his things and his space. Disrupting that is a solid idea.”
“Think I can be disruptive enough before moving in? Before we make it down the aisle?”
“You can certainly try. You’ll have to meet, have an engagement party, probably a few joint family dinners.”
“Yes. Good,” I nod. “This is good. I feel better with a plan.”
She frowns, “I’m still trying to talk to my uncle, I haven’t given up yet.”
I give her a small smile. “Thanks. I’m not giving up either. Even if I end up married. There’s always divorce. Or I could become a widow, of course. Arsenic soup, chloroform pillow case. Plenty of options.”
“You’re crazy, Lu.”
“All visionaries are. I’m going to start working on my character. Maybe buy some outrageous outfits or start a list of insane demands for his house. Love you.”
“Love you too!”
I hang up and feel significantly lighter, better.
Skulls Quinn won’t know what hit him.