Chapter 33
Isabelle
I take my curlers out and brush through my hair with my fingers. I’ve never gotten done up to this extent before. Rian had offered to have someone come and do my makeup and hair, but I wanted the time to myself. I can’t seem to look away from the mark etched on my finger, seeing it in flashes in the mirror as I go through my routine. When I think about the shared tattoo of the brotherhood, a startling warmth settles inside me that Rian wanted one between the two of us. It solidifies my decision to stop fighting this, stop fighting us and the inevitable direction our marriage is going. He may have forced me into this, but I think I know deep within me that if it was anyone but him, I would have fought harder. That I want to be a part of this family more than anything else.
A throat clearing draws my attention away from my thoughts and I lock gazes with Rian, who is leaning against the doorframe. I stand, and his eyes roam over every inch of me as I walk toward him. Deirdre laid out a dark green fitted satin dress; the lace corset sucks my waist in and pushes my breasts up. It makes me feel like a princess, or perhaps…a queen.
“Exquisite,” he says, his fingertips pressing against his lips. I could say the same about him in his suit. It’s black this time, unlike the stunning dark green he wore at our wedding.
I smile, giving him a small twirl. “You like?”
He shakes his head. “I love. I’ll be fighting off every man for looking at you.”
A blush blooms on my cheeks as I wave off his comment, but he grabs my wrist, pulling me closer.
“I have something for you before we leave.”
My eyes widen. “Diamonds?”
Rian blinks in surprise. “No, but now that I know you would appreciate jewelry, I’m never going to stop.”
“What girl doesn’t love a little something nice?” I say with a smile. I’m only teasing, but I’m sure he’ll go overboard with his promise.
Rian kisses me softly. “I just figured you couldn’t wear it much in the kitchen.”
His words make my heart skip a beat, something so simple but that means everything to me. That he knows me that well to think like that.
I swallow the emotions climbing in my throat. “You’re right.”
He kisses me again before pulling away and blowing out a breath. “Give me a minute and then meet me in the foyer.”
I watch him leave, confused, as nerves course through my skin. Rian has been busy the last couple of weeks, and when I questioned him about it, I was stunned when he actually explained they were planning to accept the invitation to Luca’s charity gala. I know it’s going to be a huge show of mafia macho bullshit, but after what happened in the restaurant, I don’t care. I’ll do what’s asked of me and stand at his side while making an appearance.
Figuring he’s had enough time, I spritz my perfume a couple times and leave the bedroom. Each step down the spiral staircase weighs heavily on my chest as I slowly descend. Adrenaline hums just under my skin like a live wire.
When I come to the landing between the floors, the small crowd waiting at the bottom turns to watch me. My husband is on the last step, his hand outstretched for me. I grip the railing harder, staring back at the people Rian trusts beyond any doubt. People who have each other’s back without question. People who would die for each other. The unwavering loyalty is etched in stone on their expressions. A brotherhood built by choice, an unbreakable bond outside the vows of made men and the spilt blood between them.
Cillian is the first to kneel on one knee as I take the first step to continue down. It stops my breath, and my eyes dart to Rian. He nods, waving me forward with a small crook of his fingers. Then Aodhan kneels when I take the next step down. A sob catches in my throat; I feel overwhelmed by their acceptance.
Cormac follows and I exhale a shaky breath as I continue. My hand curls around Rian’s as I reach him. He smiles softly at me, pulling me into his body, and picks me up to skip the last step before setting me on the floor. I don’t recognize the others besides the three men that have become a part of my daily routine, but they’re all kneeling regardless.
Rian’s hand rests on my lower back as he pushes me forward to stand before them.
He grabs my hand, facing it out to show the tattoo to the small group gathered in our foyer. “Many of you know that I took a wife a few months ago, and it had been an arrangement of peace between the Italians and us. They’ve broken that peace, but Isabelle is my wife above all else. And this is the proof of her loyalty to me, to the brotherhood!”
A chorus of shouts echo around us and my cheeks heat. I’ve never wanted to be the center of attention. Rian wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his chest and resting his hand on my stomach. I shiver at the intimacy of it and the allusion of what will come soon enough.
“Ready to join the brotherhood, my queen?”
Tears well in my eyes and I blink at the ceiling so I don’t ruin my makeup. I glance around the men still kneeling before us.
“If they’ll have me.” I try to keep my voice steady, but the emotion makes it waver.
“ Má bhrisim mo mhionn, go n-osclaí an talamh chun mé a shlogadh, ” Rian says, and I stifle a flinch when they repeat it back to him. My fingers twist into his shirt, and I’m clenching my teeth to stop myself from crying. We’ve practiced this for the past few mornings, whispering it to each other as we lounge in bed.
I look up at Rian and repeat it back in English, “If I break my oath, may the earth open to devour me.”
His eyes burn with fierce pride. “ Go n-éirí an fharraige chun mé a bhá.”
Everyone else fades into the background as I turn slowly to face my husband, and we stare at each other.
“The sea climb to drown me,” I say to Rian.
He cups my face. “ Agus go dtite an t-aer orm.”
“...and the sky plummet upon me.”
The words are barely out of my mouth before his lips crash to mine, and I melt into his hold. I deepen the passionate embrace, our tongues sliding against each other.
Sharp whistles have us finally pulling apart, and his brothers surround us before pulling me into hugs. I’ve barely registered who is holding me, then I’m tossed into another set of arms until I’m facing my husband again.
He’s holding up a large square black box and my heart skips a beat.
“I think one tattoo is enough for your perfect skin, so Cillian came up with an alternative,” Rian says, opening the lid and showing off the beautiful jewelry.
It’s a necklace, a dark silver cross with knots etched all over it. It reminds me of what’s tattooed on all of them. Rian takes it out of the box, holding it closer for me to look at it. I gather up my hair and he smiles at the gesture.
He places the necklace around my neck, the Celtic cross hanging in the valley of my breasts. It’s beautiful and makes me feel a strong sense of belonging.
“If we get separated tonight, you press the middle of this cross and a knife will come out the bottom, okay? If you are in a position that you have to use it, aim to disarm, and never leave the blade in,” Rian explains, the deadly ire in his eyes sending a chill down my spine.
“Okay,” I whisper, running my thumb over the central circle of the necklace.
He smiles, his knuckle dragging down my cheek. “Let’s go paint the town red, my beautiful wife.”
* * *
We arrive at the gala hours late, most of the public already herded out and those who remain familiar with the crime syndicates in attendance. Similar to my wedding, the Italians keep away from the small group of Irish that accompany us. It reminds me of middle school dances when one side is boys and the other side is girls, and everyone is afraid to dance before the other. Rian said it was an open invite as a show of peace, but most are still too wary to be involved.
The ballroom is extravagant, with large pillars lining the room to a coffered ceiling with large squares containing gold designs inside. The soft lighting gives it a luminous elegance. A golden chandelier with shining crystals hangs in the center.
Now I understand the dress Rian chose for me and the suits the men have donned. Half the room has tables topped with beautiful flower bouquets and the other half is a polished dance floor where people in equally expensive attire stand around.
“I’ve heard about his galas, but never attended,” I whisper into Rian’s ear.
“Because you weren’t invited or because they didn’t interest you?”
I smile at the outrage in his voice and roll my lips to stifle my laugh. “A little of both. I’m sure if I had asked, Ricky would have taken me.”
“Hmm” is the only response I get, and I’m not sure it appeases any of his anger. I was confused when Rian said we were attending the ball after what happened at my father’s restaurant a few weeks ago, but he said it’s a way to show Luca we’re not intimidated by him.
It makes me nervous to be here, but I have faith in my husband and the brotherhood. My thumb rubs at my tattooed finger, spinning the heavy ring resting on top of it.
“We’re not staying long,” Rian says, kissing my temple as we watch Luca walk toward us with Gio following behind him.
Luca looks between us and then over my shoulder, as if expecting someone else.
“My brother isn’t here.”
He nods once, it’s slow and slightly defeated. “I’m honored you two still chose to come. I know there’s tension between our families, but philanthropy is important to me and I appreciate it.”
Rian’s stoic expression doesn’t go away while Luca speaks and he continues to glare the whole time. I move closer to his side, placing my hand on his arm and squeezing him a bit.
“I’m sure the misunderstanding of what happened will be cleared up soon,” I say with a sad smile.
Luca and Rian stare at each other, the tension growing palpable in the air. I look up to find Gio watching me, and I narrow my eyes at him. I’ve never liked Gio, something about him always felt off. He smirks before he glances away and leans into Luca’s ear to whisper something.
Luca clears his throat. “I must make the rounds.”
He leaves without another word and Rian doesn’t breathe until Luca is across the room. Then he wraps his arm around my waist and nods at Cillian over my shoulder.
His eyes drop to stare into mine, a reserved uncertainty brimming in them. “Would you like to dance?”
I look at the dance floor where no one else is dancing and grimace a little, the urge to deny him on the tip of my tongue, but his fingers trace a cross on my back. “Yes,” I breathe out, my heart hammering away.
He leads me to the floor and people give us plenty of room, watching us curiously. The music cuts before changing to a different tune and I smile, recognizing the beginning notes of That’s Amore. I give Rian an incredulous look as Cillian strides away from the DJ booth.
“Ricky said you’re good at the Viennese Waltz. That you made him practice until his feet bled.”
I laugh. “In my mother’s dress, too.”
He sticks out his hand for me to grab. “Then let’s dance. I think the song is appropriate for our company.”
Smiling, I let him lead and we start turning. Gasps ring out around us and I can’t hold back my grin now. It shouldn’t surprise me that my husband knows my favorite dance, but it does, and it makes it much more enjoyable.
Rian’s hand flexes on my waist, the other squeezing my hand as we begin to spin with the beat of the dance. A crowd has started to gather around the floor, watching as we continue with our quick turns.
I can barely make out faces as we dance, but my attention catches on a few men parting the crowd, moving with a calculated precision that has goosebumps running up my neck. They look like a coordinated pack of wolves hunting their prey.
In a single, cohesive swipe, as if they’re all being controlled by one person, they cut the throats of a few men standing in the watching crowd. Rian pulls me back, his chest pressing against my back as we watch bodies fall one by one, thick waves of red slowly spilling all over the floor.
In the next second the screaming starts, and a blink later the men with bloodied knives blend into the chaos of the crowd as everyone rushes forward. Rian is pushing us back, my feet moving on autopilot. My heart feels like it’s trying to beat through mud, slowing as I recognize some of the slack, pale faces of the discarded bodies on the floor.
Gunshots rings through the room, and silence falls. The crowd parts as Luca comes stalking toward us. That’s when I realize the room has split again, the Irish behind us and the Famiglia on the other side.
“You dare attack on neutral territory,” Luca seethes, his gun pointing right at us.
Rian has me behind him in the next second, and I recognize Aodhan’s presence at my back. “You dare attack your own on your territory?”
Luca’s jaw tightens as his eyes flicker to me and away, but he remains quiet. Aodhan moves me another step back and Rian tilts his head. I just know he’ll have a taunting grin on his face.
“So sorry about your sparrows, but dead birds can’t sing.”
I don’t know what Rian is talking about, but whatever it means has Luca stepping back and shoving his gun back into his pants in quiet acknowledgement.
“It ends here then.”
Rian sneers. “It’s only begun. I don’t know how many people you planted among my men, but I’m going to weed them out. I’ve already alerted Chicago and Vegas about it.”
Luca’s eyes are ablaze with fury, and he takes another step back before glancing at me one more time. Without another word, he gives us his back and walks to the opposite side of the room. Gio watches me with hard eyes as Luca whispers into his ear, then walks over to a stunning brunette before they both leave.
Rian pulls at my waist, guiding me to the other exit as Aodhan and Cormac stay at our back. I entangle my fingers through his as we walk to the elevator and ride it down to the parking garage.
“Death is weird,” I whisper.
“Hmm?” He stares at me, concern wrinkling his brow. I can feel Aodhan and Cormac’s eyes as well. Cillian is nowhere to be seen, and I assume he’s meeting us at the cars.
I let go of his hand to rub my cold shoulders. Rian shrugs out of his suit jacket and wraps it around me. Pulling it around me tightly, I inhale his comforting scent, then give him a sad smile.
“I knew a few of those men. Saw them at my father’s restaurant, attended their family’s parties. It’s weird to know they’re just…gone. One minute they’re enjoying their evening, and the next they're dead.”
Aodhan tilts his head down and Cormac shifts on his feet. Rian studies my face, a sternness to his expression that makes my heart twist a bit.
“Everyone has a story, Isabelle. They’ll always be someone’s child, and perhaps they were lucky enough to be someone’s partner or parent. Killing is never easy, and you have to separate a part of your humanity for it to not linger.”
I swallow, nodding slowly. “I know.”
“They were men responsible for the ambush that nearly killed me,” Aodhan says. My eyes lift to meet the despair in his. “And I lost two of my best men. One who had a three-month-old daughter at home. We all are somebody at the end of the day and why does he get to live his happy life as if he didn’t deprive a little girl of her dad before she could even remember him?”
Tears stream down my cheeks and Rian wipes them. He leans forward and rests his forehead on mine. “Never lose your heart, love.”
When we get into the car, Rian holds my hand and I rest my head on his shoulder. Some of the shock is starting to wear off and everything that happened sinks in, and I hate it. If I never have to see a knife cutting through skin again, it will be too soon.