Chapter 6
Seamus
Ilinger on the sidewalk outside Fergus’s girlfriend’s place. It feels like a sticky black oil is tossed all over my skin. The way she stared at me, eyes empty and lifeless, a crying baby in the background. Fergus’s little kid. Now without a father. All for fucking what?
I promised we’d take care of her. I’ve made that promise before, and I’ll do it again. So long as the Whelan Clan’s capable, we’ll always honor those that died in our service. But it won’t be a rich life, and I sure as fuck won’t be that baby’s daddy.
Messed up situation all around. We all know the risks in this life. We accept them, but it’s one thing to know and another to see it all come crumbling down.
I take a deep breath. I brush off my arms. Bend with the breeze. When I open them again and walk to my car, it’s like I’m a new man.
That’s how I survive.
Finn answers his phone on the third ring. “How’d it go?”
“About the same as always.”
“Crying and shit?”
“Not just her. The baby too.”
He curses and lets out a long breath. “Good for you. Don’t know how you have the stomach for it.”
“That’s my job. Every man that works for me knows I’ll do it for them. It’s not much, but it’s something.”
“Do me a favor. If I get killed, don’t go anywhere near my next of kin.”
I laugh lightly. “As if you’ll ever find a girl willing to marry you.”
“One of these days I’ll trick someone, don’t you worry.”
“I won’t lose sleep over it. Except you probably shouldn’t trick a woman into being your wife.”
“Oh, yeah? I guess letting Dad pick my bride for me is better?”
“Don’t be a fucking prick, Finn. You know that wasn’t my choice.”
“Yeah, yeah, and yet here we are.”
“You’re just jealous.”
There’s a short pause. “The girl is pretty,” he concedes.
Irrationally, a strange sharp pang of jealousy tightens in my guts. I grip the steering wheel, guiding the car over toward Hudson Yards. “Don’t talk about my wife like that.”
“Like what? It was a fucking compliment.”
“Keep it to yourself next time, prick.”
“You’re so fucking bizarre sometimes, Seamus. I don’t get you. One second you act like you don’t care about the girl, and next you’re giving me shit for calling her pretty.”
I glare at the road. He’s right, and I know it. I’ve been treating this whole arrangement as nothing more than a weird little blip. Like one day I’ll have a wife the same way I might get a vacuum for Christmas.
At least until the videocall. The night in her apartment.
The stupid shit I said to push her away.
“Who do you think is stupid enough to kill one of ours?” I ask, changing the subject because I genuinely don’t know how to explain myself.
Finn seems to accept the sudden shift. “Been thinking about that myself. Could be the Polish? They’ve been getting stronger and don’t like our alliance with the Marinos and the Whelans.
Could be one of the smaller Bratvas from further up north muscling in.
There are half a dozen little Italian families and syndicates all over New York. Could be any of them.”
“You put out feelers?”
“Got guys searching, but nothing so far. Everyone’s denying they had anything to do with it.”
“Maybe Fergus really did get himself killed all on his own.” But the thought doesn’t sit right. His throat was cut expertly. If Fergus got into some stupid brawl, there would’ve been bruising, broken bones, some sign of a struggle.
His corpse was clean. Except for the big red gash in his neck.
“Maybe,” Finn agrees. “I don’t know who’s stupid enough to move on us right now.”
“Keep looking. Whoever it is, I want them found and punished. We need to send a message before we look weak.”
“I’m on it.” I hear Finn move something on the other end of the line. “You want to meet me at Baby Brigid’s? Heading over there in a few.”
“I’ve got an errand to run, but maybe after.”
“See you then.”
He hangs up as I pull into the parking lot outside Alina’s fancy tower.
It’s one of those brand-new places with gleaming silver exteriors and lots of shiny windows overlooking the water.
Each apartment must cost a couple million at least, and based on what I saw of her place that first night, I’m guessing she’s got one of the more luxurious units.
Multiple levels, hardwood floors, gourmet kitchen, gorgeous views, the works.
All paid for by her father. No doubt in my mind.
She’s got that cute little boutique, but that’s not paying her multi-million mortgage.
Alina’s not the kind of girl I ever pictured for myself. My type’s always been different, tough street chicks that don’t take shit but melt the second you get them under the sheets. Nothing better than breaking some mouthy girl over my knee.
That’s not my future wife. She’s tough in her own way, that’s for sure. But she’s not about to curse me out or get a chest tattoo. No, Alina’s too prim and clean for that. The perfect little Bratva princess.
Not my fucking type at all.
But my type doesn’t matter anymore.
I get her doorman to buzz her place. She reluctantly lets me come up. I ride the familiar elevator, thinking about that night we had together. About the way she looked at me as I got her off. Her legs wrapped around my hips. Her filthy little mouth begging for more.
Pretty. But god, so far from my type.
“What are you doing here?” She stands in her doorway with her arms crossed. She’s wearing designer sweats, the sort of stuff rich people put on to pretend like they’re not loaded.
Her body language screams fuck off, asshole.
“Wanted to talk to you about the wedding.”
Her eyebrows raise. “Really? Why?”
“Figured we’d want to discuss it since we’ll both be there.”
“Really? Huh, didn’t know you actually cared.”
“I’m full of surprises.” I try not to smile, but I can’t help myself. This girl pisses me off so much. “You going to leave me in the hall?”
Reluctantly, she leads me into the kitchen. “Let’s make this fast. I have a call with a new designer I might carry in my store.”
I pause, looking around. The place is immaculate and beautifully decorated. It looks like an Instagram post. Everything’s in its exact right place with not a single ounce of clutter, but there’s plenty of personality all over.
“This is nice,” I comment, running my fingers down a set of brass candlesticks.
She glares at me. “Thank you. And don’t touch.”
“Not as nice as upstairs though.”
“Ah, there it is, showing his true colors again.” She opens her refrigerator and aggressively takes out a water bottle. “What do you want, Seamus?”
“Just wanted to warn you that the wedding’s coming in two weeks. We don’t have much time to plan.”
“I didn’t know I was involved in the planning at all.”
I wave a hand slightly. “My mother’s doing the heavy lifting, but if you have any requests, I can pass them on.”
She watches me carefully. “I’m not sure if you’re joking. Your mother’s actually doing the work? You could just give me the name of the wedding planner.”
“My mother’s name is Siobhan, and yes, she’s doing the actual work. That woman was born to organize a wedding.”
Alina seems impressed for some reason. “Well, we have that in common at least. I love a good schedule.”
I glance at the ceiling. “Lord knows my mother does too.”
“Is that all?” She takes a drink, watching me. “Wedding’s in two weeks?”
“It’s going to be small. Family for the most part.”
She glances to the side and tenses. “That’s fine. I wasn’t going to invite anyone.”
I’m not sure how to take that. Does she mean she has nobody to invite? Or she wouldn’t subject her friends to this monstrosity? Either way is interesting.
“Then that’s everything.”
“Great. You can let yourself out.”
I hesitate before leaving. I don’t know why, but I want to stick around. I drift deeper into her place, running my fingers across her fancy couch, fluffing a single fancy pillow, brushing up against some lovely hanging plants. God, this place makes my house look like absolute shit by comparison.
“I was thinking you should pick a maid of honor. Got anyone in mind?”
Her eyes narrow. But slowly, she comes around the island. “I was thinking of asking my best friend, Kira. She works with me at the store.”
“I’ll let my mother know.”
“What about you? Got a best man in mind?”
“My brother Finn will do it.”
“Lucky him. Must be a dream come true.”
I laugh softly. “We’re close. It’ll be fine.”
“You’re close with all your brothers?”
I tilt my head side to side. “Not so much with Declan, but none of us are. Cormac for a while, but now he’s married and his wife’s pregnant, so he’s got his own thing.”
“Losing your brother to a baby. Must be hard.”
“New life’s always good.” I turn on her.
She’s standing at the edge of the living room.
Light streams in through the tall windows and makes her hair glow.
The girl really is pretty. Beautiful, honestly.
Petite and soft with big lips and lovely green eyes.
Too bad she’s looking at me like I’m a slime monster infecting her space with my presence.
“You delivered your message.” She glances at her phone. “But I really do have a call.”
“Fine, I get it.” I move toward her. “You sure you’re good with this wedding stuff?”
“Not at all, but it’ll be fine.” She stands defiantly, chin tilted up, trying to make herself look bigger. Except she’s about five-foot-nothing and a hundred pounds with rocks in her pockets.
“You’re really telling me you never dreamed of a big wedding?”
She hesitates, and I know she did. The girl’s a bratva princess. Of course she’s always wanted the big ballroom with five hundred guests all there to swoon over her and treat her like royalty.
“Doesn’t matter what I dreamed of,” she says finally, shrugging and keeping her face composed. “I’m doing my duty to the family. That’s all that matters.”
“And does your duty fulfill you? Make you smile and have nice dreams at night?”
“Keeps me alive.”
“That’s not saying much.”
“Are you really worried about what I want?” Her jaw tightens. We’re not far apart now, and she still won’t step aside. I like that about her. I revise my reading of her, just a little bit. Maybe she’s not my type, but maybe my type’s not all that clearly defined anyway.
“You’re my wife. I want you to be happy.”
“I doubt that. I think you just want to use this against me somehow.”
I put a hand to my heart. “You hurt me. You think I’m that much of a monster?”
“Yes. I really do.”
God, I want to kiss that fucking mouth. I want to make that stiff spine break as she shatters for me. This girl’s a walking calendar appointment with a brain filled by sticky notes, and someone needs to get in here and mess this place up a little bit. She needs some real chaos in her life.
But I think of Fergus’s girlfriend then. The lack of light in her eyes. It’s the total opposite of Alina’s fire, and my guts twist suddenly. I hated that look. I despise the way losing Fergus didn’t just hurt her, but also hurt their child.
Now I’m expected to put myself in that same position with this girl.
No, I’ll do what I’ve always done. Bend but never break.
“Good luck on your call, princess,” I say quietly, brushing past her. I let my fingers trail along her hip. She shivers as I walk away. “And don’t forget to get in touch with my mother if you think of anything wedding related.”
She doesn’t have a plucky comeback. I glance over my shoulder as I leave and find her staring after me, her expression angry, but her eyes hungry, and I wonder what I’m getting myself into with this girl.