41. Michael #6
And the woman I actually married was probably watching this farce from a burner phone, safe—I hoped—in Brett’s off-grid cabin. Probably laughing. Or crying. Or both.
I didn’t know how the hell this ends.
But I knew how it began.
With a lie they all believed.
And a vow I whispered in the dark to the only woman I’d ever truly wanted:
I’ll find a way back to you.
The meeting was nothing but smoke and mirrors—whiskey and false smiles—as I pitched them my little fantasy.
“I bought a stretch of land,” I said, feigning pride. “Thought it was time Krystal got the dream house she deserves. Custom build. Anything she wants. View of the Bayview Harbor, spa-level bathrooms, private theater. Hell, maybe a koi pond if she’s into that.”
Uncle Roman gave a chuckle, more gravel than humor. Redmond didn’t smile at all.
They exchanged a look. One of those silent conversations powerful men have when they’re about to flip the script.
Roman set his glass down, deliberate. “That’s thoughtful of you, nephew. But we’ve been talking…”
“Yeah?” I kept my face still, my voice light.
“We think it’s best if you stay here in Vegas. With Krystal,” Roman said. “See this new Mystic Moon Casino through. It’s time we put one of our own on the ground here full-time.”
Uncle Roman chimed in, voice like poison in a silk wrapper. “I’ll oversee Bayview. Consider it a rotation. You focus on the Vegas expansion with your bride. She’s happy. You're married. It’s the natural next step.”
My stomach sank, but I didn’t flinch.
They were cutting me off from Kate.
I’d played their game. Wore their suit. Faked their wedding night. Said their damn vows. But it was never going to be enough. Not until Kate was gone.
Dead.
Buried.
Wiped from the board so I could be their puppet without distractions.
They never intended to let her live.
I clenched my jaw so tight it ached. My teeth ground behind a polite smile. “Of course,” I said smoothly. “Whatever the family needs.”
Inside, I was fire.
They thought they owned me.
They thought they had me boxed in.
But they had no idea the fire they’d lit. No idea the storm coming.
Thanks to Kate. Thanks to Brett. Thanks to the quiet little alliance we’d made with the Feds. They didn’t know I was holding the matches.
They wanted loyalty?
I’d give them ashes.
Even if it meant turning on my own blood to protect the only person who’d ever felt like home.
I had to go back upstairs. Back to the circus act. Back to the woman who thought her last name was now mine, even though everything about her made my skin crawl.
Krystal was draped across the velvet chaise like she thought she was the star of some noir film, her nails tapping the stem of a champagne glass. Her smile curled when she saw me.
“You know,” she purred, “you were such a dick to me for so long. Making me wait. Not letting me touch you. Not letting anyone else touch me either. But it was worth it.” She licked her lips. “Last night was so good. Baby, come here.”
She moved like a predator, fingers already working the buttons of my shirt, her breath hot against my neck.
“What made you flip the switch back? Was it how I looked last night? I knew you’d remember how good it was between us now that that bitch is gone from our lives. She’s out and I’m in permanently.” Her hips grinned down on my lap.
I smiled. Just enough. “Sure, babe. Let me fix you a drink first.”
I crossed to the bar. Kept my hands steady. Poured the champagne and stirred in one of Brett’s leftover party favors—something that would send her mind straight to the clouds and keep her there. Maybe she'd screw the robot again. I had already programmed the cologne.
She took the glass without question, sipped greedily, and giggled as I guided her back toward the private suite. The room with blackout curtains. The room with no mirrors. The room where fantasy lived and reality wasn’t invited.
“Strip, lie down… let’s try something new. Blindfolds and hand restraints…”
“You kinky, mother fucker, Michael. I’m so lucky to be married to you, she purred,” already getting naked and laying back on the bed.
I flicked the switch on the android and turned off my conscience. This time oral sex was on the menu…
The door closed behind me.
Krystal’s cries of ecstasy started a few minutes later.
I stared at the wood grain and felt nothing.
Not guilt. Not shame.
Just exhaustion.
She was a pawn, a liability dressed in sequins, and I was playing a role in a game I didn’t agree to. Every minute I spent with her made me itch beneath my skin. She thought she was in control. She thought she’d won.
But the truth was uglier than any of us wanted to admit.
Maybe I should’ve let Brett end her.
But no. Not yet. That kind of blood came with strings.
Still—I couldn't keep doing this. I couldn't play husband to a woman whose only real bond to me was a fake wedding, a forged night, and a contract soaked in lies.
And while she moaned in the dark to a machine that wasn’t me, I stood at the edge of the room, alone.
And thought of Kate.
The only woman I’d ever wanted to say “I do” to.