37 - Divided
Cordelia
“Absolutely not! I won’t allow it,” Mama shrieks, striding forward, her gold Jimmy Choos clacking against the shiny floor.
Scar’s quick to combat her stupidity. “Your daughter is old enough to make her own decisions.” His hand seizes her shoulder in silent threat. “Sit back down, Mrs Rousseau.”
“Your father will never agree to this, Cordelia!” She screeches, blatantly ignoring him. Her eyes blaze with fury, aimed directly at me, like a target in a shooting range.
A loud snort slips from Logan’s lips, dragging my attention back to where he’s still kneeling awkwardly against the polished marble.
“You don’t know your husband at all, do you?
” he chuckles, poised and holding the box steady in his open palm.
The ring peeks above the silken cushion, gleaming at me over the short distance.
It’s even more dazzling under the luminous glow of the gallery spotlights.
Truly beautiful. And even more so outstretched in his hand.
Does that mean he’s already asked Papa? He wouldn’t willingly hand me over to a gangster, would he? A life of crime and violence? Surely not.
“What did he say?” I stutter. My voice is barely audible in the wide-open space.
The man at my feet releases a heavy sigh, irritation flickering in his steel-blue eyes, at being made to wait. Patience is a virtue Logan clearly wasn’t awarded with.
“He said yes,” he replies simply. “More than happy to give his blessing.”
“He would never,” Mama interrupts again, looking down the sharp edge of her nose at us.
Logan’s head snaps to one side, eyes zeroing in on her. “Apparently he doesn’t think you’re capable of looking after her anymore.” His deliberate goading makes her see red.
“How dare you speak to me like that, insolent boy! I— “
Scar’s booming tenor drowns out her shrill voice, demanding silence. “Mrs Rousseau. My nephew was in the middle of something rather pivotal. If you refuse to let them have their moment, I will have you removed.”
It’s not easy to hold back the snort I want to let out. We’re not exactly having a romantic moment between the two of us now, are we?
I do, however, take note that he doesn’t finish that sentence.
Or maybe he does? Either way, the tension in the room is palpable, and it’s clear what he’s insinuating.
Mama’s moss green eyes turn to slits. Being told what to do isn’t something she’s used to, but she does take a tentative step backwards.
Significantly influenced by Clarke’s sinister grin and Ezio clenching his fists.
Scar raises an arm, gesturing for us to continue. Logan’s eyes return to me, equal parts apprehension and hope, their blue hue glowing vividly against the stark white walls.
I’m torn; a barrage of conflicting emotions dividing my decision like the Red Sea.
If I say yes, am I destined to be nothing more than his helpless bride, under the thumb of the mafia?
Will I lose my independence, the very essence of what defines me?
But if Papa agreed, he must have faith that Logan can protect me, keep me safe.
Either that, or something was done to force his hand.
The very thought sends a shudder down my spine, whisking me back to the night it all started.
The fucked-up scene I stumbled upon when my stupid curiosity got the better of me.
Am I even allowed to say no? A quick glance around the dominant figures observing our exchange suggests not.
The blood oath already ties me to these people in ways I will never be able to escape.
The corkscrew in my gut tells me this is all for show—a vindictive display of power to make it unmistakably clear to everyone who I belong to.
And yet I can’t deny the weight of the pull, drawing me further into his complicated world.
The strange addiction that has me yearning for the drama and excitement that my own mundane existence lacks.
I’ve dawdled through life, through all the usual motions, and don’t get me wrong, it hasn’t been difficult; my parents have always provided me with what I need.
But it’s been lonely. My friends had filled the void with their laughter and smiles, and Theo had been there to be my shoulder in times when I needed to cry or scream, but that hollowness, that nagging ache for something more never left.
When I’m with Logan, that loneliness ebbs away.
Slowly dissipating until there’s nothing left but warmth and passion.
The feelings I have for this magnificent specimen of a man override anything I’ve experienced before, quashing every insignificant relationship of my past. We complete each other. My missing puzzle piece.
“Cordelia,” Logan’s voice is quiet, meant for just the two of us, but the ominous nuance is a subtle reminder of his restlessness.
My fingers gravitate towards the sparkling stone of their own accord.
“No!” Mama’s last-ditch attempt to sway my decision has me snatching my hand back like I’ve been bitten by a viper.
Clarke’s heavy footfall echoes through the walls in a thunderous rage as he storms across the room. He slaps his hand so hard over Mum’s mouth, the sharp noise shakes the surrounding air. She trembles under his bruising grip but knows better than to try to fight him.
His heated stare falls on me. My pulse surges. And I have my answer. Because I’m almost positive the decision’s been taken out of my hands. Besides, I’m having his baby. This will unite us and make us a proper family. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted.
“Yes,” I breathe at last, a warm smile spreading across my lips.
“Yes?” Logan repeats, eyes wide as if he didn’t hear me the first time. “You’ll marry me?”
“Yes,” I repeat, and this time I grin, showing my teeth.
Logan exhales a breath of sheer relief and leaps to his feet.
He scoops me up in his arms, spinning me in the air before anchoring his lips to mine in a kiss that means everything.
Loud whoops and cheers erupt around us, but the noise is far more staged than genuine excitement.
Heat immediately rises to my cheeks, colouring them scarlet for all to see.
I hide my face in the nook of Logan’s shoulder, but he jostles me higher in his hold, the smile stretched across his lips speaking volumes: ‘You don’t need to be embarrassed.
’ I raise an eyebrow and pout, and his playful laughter warms my soul.
Eventually he sets me down on the balls of my feet to slide the ring onto my finger.
It fits perfectly, of course. I expected nothing less after his devious plan to find out my size.
I’ll be petrified wearing it out and about, knowing how much it cost.
“Congratulations,” Scar offers, stepping forward. “We’ll hold a dinner in celebration.” He extends a hand to me, which I accept. “Welcome to the family, Cordelia.”
His words seem sincere, but I can’t help wondering the price I will have to pay to be a part of this newfound happiness.