Chapter 17
Casey
Iwake feeling groggy and still tired. I hear Declan downstairs grinding espresso beans. It takes me too long to drag myself out of bed. The clock says it’s a little past eight when I finally stumble down the stairs and into the kitchen.
More bad dreams plagued me. Honestly, the only night I haven’t been haunted by nightmares is when I slept with Declan two days ago. That should probably tell me something, but I don’t like the message.
I stand and stare at my husband, frowning, and not sure what to make of him.
He’s wearing a suit. And not just an average one. It’s his best, straight from a custom designer here in the city. It’s sleek and fits him like a glove. I’d bet it’s obscenely expensive, but it’s worth every penny, especially considering how good he looks in it.
“Morning,” he says as he brews himself a flat white.
“Why are you all dressed up?” I squint at him and glance over at the kitchen table. A dress bag is left draped over one of the chairs as light streams in through the windows. I swear I can see my fingerprints still left from where we had sex. “And what’s that?”
“I had to move up our timeline.” He takes a sip and watches me carefully. “That bag has your dress.”
“Timeline? Dress? What are you talking about?”
He checks his watch. “In about forty minutes, we’re leaving for city hall. A judge I’m friendly with will perform our wedding ceremony.”
Cold dread fills my stomach. I stare at him and try to decide whether he’s kidding or not. “I thought… we were having a wedding?”
“Not anymore.”
“But we weren’t supposed to make it official for weeks.”
“Weeks, minutes, hours, it doesn’t make a difference.” He leans against the counter, his face hard and uncompromising. “Go get dressed.”
I bristle at his tone. There’s nothing patient in him. This is Boss Bastard at his finest, and I want to kick him in the teeth.
“You don’t get to just make demands. That’s not how our relationship works.”
“We never actually discussed any rules around the wedding itself.”
“Come on, you’re just being difficult.”
“No, I’m not. You’re marrying me today. You don’t have any other options.” He pushes off the counter and gestures at the table. “The contract is there. Take a look at it. Everything we discussed and nothing more.”
My head spins. I glare at him, so pissed I can barely breathe. “I haven’t even seen the dress!”
“My mother picked it out. She’s got good taste. At least, she better, considering how much it cost.”
He sips his coffee and walks toward me. I’m shaking, I’m so mad. This guy acts like he owns me. It’s like whenever I think we’re figuring out how to live together, he does something new to infuriate me.
“I won’t be ready in time,” I say quietly as he stands in front of me. “This is crazy. I want to read that contract before I sign it.”
“Get started.” He holds his coffee mug out. “Here. This should help.”
I take it from him, just to be petty. “Go away.”
“I’ll be waiting. We’re leaving at eight-fifty. Not a second later.”
“Bossy asshole.”
He disappears upstairs. I stand alone in the kitchen, my body vibrating.
This is happening too fast. I wanted time to prepare myself. I figured I’d go shopping with Sheila, plan some of the ceremony and reception details, and try to make it my own.
Instead, I’m wearing a dress I’ve never seen.
And I won’t have a maid of honor either.
I slump forward. God, Natalie’s dead. She was never going to be at my wedding, whether it’s today or two weeks from now. She’s gone, and I don’t know how I can keep moving.
But it’s not like that’ll stop Declan from getting what he wants.
Boss Bastard doesn’t give a damn about some petty thing like grief.
Frustrated and powerless, I go to the table. The contract is straightforward, and I have no clue if it’s legal or not, but it does stipulate how much money he’ll deposit in my account every month for the rest of my life.
It’s enough that I’ll never have to work again.
I unzip the dress bag once I’ve initialed and signed. I stare at the lace and silk. It’s simple, pretty, and surprisingly elegant. I wouldn’t have chosen it…
As far as dresses go, it’s not bad.
I hate this. I never wanted a courthouse wedding.
But I don’t have a choice, and fighting will only make it worse.
“Bastard,” I murmur as I carry the dress upstairs.
Declan’s mouth opens ever so slightly as I meet him in the front entry. My heels clack over the hardwood. I let him get a good look at the plunging neckline, the tight bodice, and the skirt ending right at my knees. It’s casual but practical, and I’m thankful for that.
“What do you think?”
He looks me toes to nose, and his face softens. “You look beautiful, Casey.”
That’s what I wanted to hear, but it still makes me flush red. “Really?”
“Incredible.” He offers me his arm. “Ready?”
I shrug on a light jacket. It covers most of the dress so I don’t feel like I’m walking around like a bride. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
There are a dozen men waiting outside. I’m startled and a little nervous, but Declan starts barking orders at them. We’re ushered into a black sedan, and an entire convoy of vehicles escorts us through the city.
Declan doesn’t talk on the way over. I have a million things I want to ask him.
Like if he ever pictured his wedding day before, and if he did, was it like this?
I want to know what song he would’ve played for a first dance, what flavor he would’ve liked for a cake, what his wedding night should’ve been like.
Actually, I might find out about that last one.
We don’t talk, though. Something’s clearly bothering him, and I’m worried it has to do with me.
Maybe he regrets our deal. I know I’m not the kind of woman he probably wanted.
I’m too messy, too carefree, too disorganized, too emotional.
While he’s a strict bastard who’s obsessed with order and reason.
This is never going to work.
Except it has to.
The courthouse isn’t too busy. We’re whisked through security and taken back to the private chambers. I’m surprised to find Sheila waiting in the hallway beside Declan’s mother, and a wave of relief washes over me.
“I was afraid I wasn’t going to know anyone here,” I say, hugging her tightly.
She rubs my back. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
“Thanks for being here.”
“You can thank Siobhan. She’s the one who made sure I knew about it.”
I squeeze her one more time before letting her go. Declan’s mother beams at me and holds me at arm’s length.
“Do you like it?” she asks, grinning.
I open the jacket and let her see the dress. “I wasn’t sure I would, but it’s actually really nice.”
Her eyes crinkle with amusement. She glances at Declan. “How does he feel about it?”
“I think he likes it more than I do.”
She laughs, loud and genuine. “That was my goal.” She hugs me quickly before letting me go.
“Let’s get this done.” Declan seems straight-up miserable now. My heart is heavy and racing as we step into the judge’s chambers. He’s an older man, heavyset, in a nice sweater over a simple dress shirt. He greets Siobhan warmly.
“Thanks for doing this, Roger,” she says.
“Ah, anything for you and your family.” He beams and gestures for me and Declan to stand in front of his desk. “What sort of ceremony are we looking for? Short and sweet? Or should I give you the full version?”
“Short and sweet,” Declan says quickly.
My heart stutters. My back is sweating. I shrug off my jacket, and Sheila takes it from me. She kisses my cheek, showing more affection today than she has for most of my life. When she steps aside, I’m afraid I might pass out.
I can’t do this.
I thought I could. I figured marrying Declan would be a good deal. He’ll protect me and Sheila, and I’ll get paid for the trouble. I told myself I could play mafia wife if that’s what it took.
But that was stupid.
I’m nobody. My parents might’ve been from Declan’s underworld, but that’s not me. I’m not strong. I’m not clever. I’m messy and difficult most of the time. Men are repulsed by me.
Except for Declan.
I want to get away. I feel like I’m going to pass out. The judge is talking, giving us some kind of speech about the sanctity of marriage and all that as he adjusts the official marriage paperwork on his desk. He lines up a couple of pens. I think I might be sick.
Declan steps closer. I feel his warmth as his fingers reach down and find mine. I’m startled when he grabs on and holds my hand tightly.
I look up at him in surprise.
He’s staring straight ahead. His expression is set and determined.
But his hand squeezes mine.
I start to calm down.
Not completely. I’m still afraid and nervous.
But his simple touch helps ground me. I don’t feel dizzy anymore.
When the judge says we should sign, I’m able to do it without shaking.
After the paperwork, Declan takes me into his arms as the judge says we’re allowed to kiss for the first time as husband and wife.
His lips touch mine. He’s gentle about it. I didn’t know Declan could be this soft. I kiss him back eagerly, desperate for his comfort, but it only lasts a second.
And then it’s over.
“Congratulations!” Sheila pulls me into a hug followed by Siobhan. Everyone’s shaking hands. Declan seems more relieved than anything else, like he expected something bad to happen.
My legs feel shaky as we walk out together. Declan and Siobhan talk business while Sheila tells me how beautiful I look. I glance down at my finger, and the ring Declan gave me glitters there. It means more now that I know it’s official.
“I’ll drop Sheila back home,” Siobhan says, gathering my aunt up. “And maybe we’ll see you later for dinner?”
“We’ll be there,” Declan says.
Siobhan kisses his cheek. She looks like she wants to say more, but she only smiles sadly and leads my aunt away.
Declan watches her go before turning to me. “Are you ready?”
“I guess there’s no reason to hang around.” I nervously follow him back to the street. “What now? Are we going on a honeymoon?”
“Do you want to? Where would you go if you could?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, considering. “Somewhere warm. Somewhere with sand.”
“I know plenty of good tropical spots we could visit.”
“Would you take me sometime?”
“I’d like that. But you’d have to let me dress you.”
I let out an awkward laugh. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll buy you bikinis. They’ll be extremely inappropriate. You’ll have to wear whichever I choose.”
“You really like bossing me around.”
“Yes, Casey. I really do.” He stares at me. The fire in his eyes is a shock. He’s been so distant until right now, but it’s suddenly like the mention of me in a bikini burns him to a crisp. I shiver despite myself, and I’m tempted to beg him to take me there right now.
Before I can, one of Declan’s guards comes running over the second we’re back out the front doors.
“Sorry to bother you, sir, but you have to see this.” The young man looks deeply shaken, his face pale and his shoulders hunched like he’s flinching at every little movement.
He’s holding something under his jacket, and it’s only after we start following that I realize it’s probably a gun.
My stomach flips with nerves as we approach the car. Declan’s men are swarming all over. He holds my arm protectively, pulling me closer as he barks out at an older man standing over an object on the hood.
“You should take a look, boss.” He glances at me and frowns slightly. “And maybe it’s better if your wife turns away.”
“What’s going on?” I ask him.
“Just show me, Rian.”
The guard shrugs and pulls back some newspaper from a crumpled-up bundle. It looks like trash at first until he reveals a human hand.
My mind rebels at the sight. It doesn’t make sense. I think it’s fake at first, but that’s the most detailed recreation I’ve ever seen.
I take a step back, my heart racing with fear.
“Motherfuck…” Declan whispers, staring at the severed limb. “Cover it up. Who left it?”
“We didn’t see anyone,” Rian says, hastily wrapping it. “There was this homeless guy who walked through, but—”
“Find him,” Declan snarls, gesturing violently. “All of you, fan out right now. Find that homeless man.”
Rian looks surprised, but he hurries to obey Declan’s order. Half the guards scatter, most of them jogging down the block.
I stare at the bundle. My heart’s racing so fast I feel like I might pass out. Suddenly, I feel like I’ve been dipped into slime and sprayed down with blood.
“Why is there a human hand on your car?” I whisper and force myself to look at my husband. “Declan, what’s happening?”
He flinches and gestures at Rian again. “Get that thing out of here. I’m taking my wife home.”
“Yes, sir.” Rian grabs the bundle and steps away.
“I want that man caught, but tell everyone to be careful. If he is who I think he is…” Declan trails off, looking grim. “Just find him. Dead or alive. Preferably dead.”
Rian salutes and jogs off, pausing only to toss the hand into the trunk of another car.
Declan helps me into the passenger seat. He gets behind the wheel and looks like he’s staring at his own corpse lying in a box.
“Whose hand was that?” I ask, and he doesn’t answer at first. “Declan, whose hand was it?”
“Do you remember Patrick Doyle?”
I nod, thinking back to the meeting they had together. “He seemed nice.”
“We found him dead. And he was missing a hand.”
I cover my mouth. I feel like I want to throw up. “That’s horrible. That’s…”
“My fault.” His jaw flexes as he starts the engine. “Come on. We’re going home.”