Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Erin
I have learned several things about planning a wedding to a billionaire mafia king.
One: budgets are apparently a cute little hobby for normal people.
Two: if you say, “Wouldn’t it be pretty if…” within Lucian’s hearing, twelve people will arrive the next morning with samples.
Three: men who can coordinate armed security across three countries cannot correctly identify ivory from champagne.
Four: Lucian has opinions about flowers.
Strong ones.
“I said white roses.”
“They are white roses.”
“Those are cream.”
I stare at him.
He stares at the arrangement.
As a man whose proposal was a command, he does not back down.
The florist looks like she is considering climbing out of a window.
“Lucian.”
He points. “Cream.”
“Try to relax.”
“I am trying.”
“Then leave.”
He looks personally offended.
We are in the bridal suite above the restored Village ballroom. Cass and Ryan are currently on Fifth Avenue, chaperoned by Mack, shopping for his ring bearer suit and her Maid of Honor dress.
On the Bachman tarmac in New York, I started crying before the door of their jet even opened. Ryan hit me at a run, all elbows and decked out in superhero paraphernalia, and Cass, too, was obviously crying before that door opened.
Lucian stood behind me, one hand on my lower back. We watched the two people I had once sold my soul to save, the two people who helped me save my cold, dark Lucian from himself…
Arrive to complete our family.
The Village is finished.
Not exactly as it was.
Better.
The houses are brighter. The security is stronger. The old stone remains wherever it could be saved, threaded into new walls as if the family decided scars deserved architecture.
Cass’s bakery opened last month.
Bachman Jewelers reopened beside it.
The old gate is standing.
Not hidden the way it once was.
Still private.
Still protected.
But no longer built like fear itself.
Two days after we left the Hamlet, Rafe moved Isobel to a protected coastal house under Freya and Bayne’s network, far enough from the Village that Lucian could breathe and close enough to testify when needed.
Apparently, Isobel made an impression on Freya during her short stay with us in Iceland. Freya told Rafe, “Blondes with impeccable taste in clothing must look out for one another.”
The next evening, Gregory enacted his plan.
By morning, three Moretti Swiss bank accounts were frozen. That got their attention. Our spies informed us that they immediately emptied three of their safe houses in New York and Glasgow.
Once Rafe saw that we had their attention, Blaze and his brother, Haze, met with one of their Moretti contacts. I was able to help arrange the meeting, organizing a neutral ground: the apartment where Cass, Ryan, and I used to live, Bambi’s place.
The brothers with the rhyming names delivered the Bachman message:
If Isobel dies, Marina’s archive goes public.
If the Morettis move against the Bachmans, it goes to their enemies first.
If they don’t bother us again, the files stay quiet.
And that’s the last we’ve heard from them.
Their silence means peace.
Peace means the Bachmans can relax and enjoy our celebration.
After Lucian proposed, I quickly found out two things about this family:
They have very short engagements.
They love nothing more than an over-the-top wedding.
So, we are giving them one.
Today, flowers climb every railing. White candles sit in glass lanterns. Gold ribbon winds through winter greenery even though spring has finally arrived.
Lucian is supposed to be downstairs.
Instead, he is terrorizing the florist.
I point toward the door. “Out.”
His eyes narrow. “You are separating the groom from his bride.”
“Yes.”
“I haven’t seen you all morning.”
“That is traditionally the point.”
“I dislike tradition.”
“You are about to participate in two ceremonies in one day.”
His expression changes.
The second ceremony is private.
Family only.
Bachmans.
Something older than the legal vows we are about to make in front of everyone we love.
He reaches for me.
I swat his hand away. “No touching the bride. Not yet.”
“I bought the dress.”
“Then respect your investment.”
His mouth curves.
There he is.
My monster.
My man.
My almost husband.
He leans close enough that the florist suddenly becomes very interested in a ribbon spool. “You look beautiful.”
The words are quiet. No command. No teasing.
My throat tightens. “Thank you.”
He looks down at my dress.
Silk.
Clean lines.
Fitted through the waist and hips before falling into a long train.
No giant princess skirt.
I tried one.
Ryan said I looked like a cupcake.
Lucian offered to buy all the dresses in the bridal shop so I could try them on in private.
I chose this instead.
Elegant. Soft.
Mine.
My veil is waiting on the chair. My ring sparkles on my left hand.
There was no ring to accompany the proposal at first.
Of course, I happily said yes, even though there was no ring and he technically didn’t really ask me.
It was more of a command.
One I was more than okay with.
The ring had to wait. He insisted it had to come from the family jewelry store, where all Bachman marriages begin, and there would be no stand-in ring until this one was purchased.
I was also okay with waiting.
The perfect four-carat princess-cut diamond that makes me smile every time light hits it.
Lucian touches the ring with one finger. “Still like the gold?”
“I love the gold.”
“Good.”
“Compromise.”
He sighs. “Partnership.”
I grin. “You were right. About the gold.”
“When am I not right?” He kisses my forehead.
He leaves before I can correct him.
The florist waits until the door closes. “Is he always…”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t finish.”
“Whatever you were going to say, yes,” I laugh. “He’s always this Lucian.”
Cass rolls in from the adjoining room wearing a hot pink dress. Her hair is pinned up.
She sees me in the dress and immediately starts crying.
“Stop.” My command comes out as a whisper.
“I can’t.”
“We haven’t even gotten to the ceremony yet.”
She wipes her face. “You look like Mom. She was so pretty.”
The words hit me.
I don’t have an answer. Cass reaches for my hand.
For a moment, we are not in a billionaire’s bridal suite.
We are two sisters who survived.
Ryan knocks once and enters before anyone answers.
His little black suit jacket is slightly crooked.
His tie is worse.
“You look fancy,” he tells me.
“Thank you?” I laugh.
He comes closer. “Uncle Lucian said I have an important job.” He pulls a tiny black box from his pocket.
My wedding band. “Don’t lose it,” I say.
His eyes widen. “I won’t.”
Cass laughs. “Maybe don’t scare the ring bearer.”
“I am preparing him for responsibility.”
Ryan stands straighter. “I can do it.”
“I know you can.” I bend and kiss his forehead.
A knock comes from the open doorway.
Gregory.
He is in a black tuxedo.
No glasses today.
He looks older without them.
Or maybe I have finally stopped seeing him as the nervous younger brother at the edge of Lucian’s shadow.
He looks at Cass like there is no one else in this room. “Cass,” he says, “You look beautiful.”
And for once, Cass is speechless.
Interesting.
Then they stare at one another long enough for the room to grow uncomfortable, and neither one realizes it.
They are lost in one another long enough for it to hit me;
She doesn't need another man to guard her. She needs the man who becomes her partner.
Could that man be Gregory?
Here I am on my wedding day, suddenly more interested in whether my sister should be marrying my husband-to-be’s brother.
Sounds unnatural, but it’s the most natural thing.
Gregory can meet Cass's sarcasm. Cass can tease him mercilessly. Intellectually, they are a pair.
Then, Ryan.
Our precious little boy.
Gregory isn't merely protecting Ryan and Cass. He's engaging Ryan, entertaining him, teaching him, and becoming part of Ryan’s household rhythm.
He’s the normalcy Cass and Ryan never had.
That Cass never thought she’d need.
Looking at the two of them, I’m tearing up.
Finally, Gregory turns to me. His smile is soft. “Erin. If Lucian is capable of crying, seeing you in that dress is the closest he’ll get.”
I give a genuine laugh. Then he says, “Ready?” and the nerves kick in full force.
Am I ready?
To make a commitment not only to a man who once terrified me, but to his entire Mafia family as well.
No.
Yes.
Terrified.
Certain. I say, “Absolutely.”
And I mean it with my full heart.
For the first ceremony at least. The traditional one. The one when I know what to expect.
Still, I cling to Gregory’s arm as the ballroom doors open.
I hear the room inhale. Not literally. Probably.
But that is how it feels.
Hundreds of candles. White roses that are definitely white. Gold light.
The ceiling is draped in sheer fabric.
A string quartet somewhere beyond the flowers.
And at the far end of the aisle, Lucian.
He stops breathing.
I know because I know him.
His shoulders lock. His hands curl at his sides. His jaw tightens. His eyes go black.
Mine.
Those eyes still say it.
But now I know what comes after.
Because you choose to be mine.
I start walking.
Cass comes before me.
Ryan walks ahead of her, holding the rings, his chin held high with pride.
He knows Bayne will be watching.
No one stands beside Lucian.
Too many good men surround him to choose a best one.
Blaze sits with Cleo beside him in the front row, and she’s already whispering for him to behave.
Bayne came from Scotland with his wife, Kitt, and enough of his clan in kilts to make me miss our time on the wee Scottish island.
Almost.
I reach the altar. Lucian takes my hand.
We just stare at one another, a silly grin on my face, a serious look on his.
The officiant begins. I hear almost none of it.
Marriage. Commitment. Choice.
Family.
Words float around us. The world floats around us.
Then it is Lucian’s turn.
The room goes quiet.
His eyes stay on mine. “Erin, I loved you badly before I knew how to love you well.”
My throat closes.
“I thought protection meant control. I thought fear was proof of devotion. I thought if I could put enough walls around what I loved, nothing could take it from me.”