Chapter 4
AOIFE
So much for out of the frying pan, into the fire. It’s more like out of the fire, into the flames of hell, but hell is my only option right now. I just agreed to marry the most dangerous man in Dublin within twenty minutes of smashing into him like a runaway train.
‘Fiancée?’ Ciaran’s thick black eyebrows wing up. ‘Congratulations. I wasn’t aware you had a…’ his espresso coloured eyes dart to mine, ‘girlfriend.’
‘I didn’t.’ Dominic shrugs, casually, like this isn’t completely fucked up. ‘Aoife’s father tried to force her into marrying Rory Kavanagh. Now she’s marrying me instead.’
‘By choice?’ Ciaran asks tentatively.
‘Of course,’ Dominic snaps. ‘What do you take me for?’
Choice is a bit of a stretch.
It’s either go along with this madness or go it alone on the streets.
Dominic’s brother shakes his head disbelievingly as he turns his attention to me. His pupils drag over my face first, then my outfit.
I take him in, warily. He doesn’t radiate the same intensity as his brother, though they share the same colouring and features. He’s wearing a white shirt splattered with small scarlet stains.
Wait—is that blood?
Alarm sends every hair on my body spiking to attention.
Seeming to sense it, Dominic pulls me in closer and presses a tender kiss to my temple, like we really are engaged, like he genuinely cares about me, like we didn’t just meet twenty minutes ago. His ease with our situationship is almost as terrifying as the blood.
‘Pour yourself a drink,’ Dominic says jovially to Ciaran, motioning to the bottle of Becketts Gold on the bar. ‘This is a celebration after all.’
Either he’s an exceptionally good actor, or he really is comfortable with our newfound arrangement.
Both are worrying on so many levels
‘Are we seriously doing this?’ I whisper.
‘We’re seriously doing this, baby.’ He flashes another wolfish grin that does nothing to reassure me.
Baby.
The rumours were obviously true. The man is clearly a complete psycho.
But if I walk out of here now, where the hell else am I going to go?
I don’t exactly have a lot of options.
I could spend the next few months sleeping on the streets, running, hiding, constantly looking over my shoulder. Or spend them hiding out with a man who promised to protect me. A man who swears he won’t touch me, even though the way his eyes linger on my body makes me think he might want to.
Ciaran reaches for the whiskey, pours himself an inch, and then tops up our glasses.
Dominic raises his drink and clinks it against mine. ‘To the blushing bride.’ He leans closer, brushing his lips over my earlobe. Goosebumps scatter in every direction over my skin. What the fuck is wrong with me?
‘Cheers.’ Ciaran drains his drink, then helps himself to another.
‘Someone worked up a thirst,’ Dominic comments dryly. ‘I assume you took care of that parcel.’ He lifts his whiskey to his lips, eyeing his brother over the rim of the glass.
‘Packed, wrapped and ready for delivery.’ Ciaran winks.
‘Good man.’ Dominic nods his approval. ‘In fact,’ he tilts his face down, a playful expression playing on his lips, ‘I think you’re the best man. What do you think, sweetheart?’
I think I’m in way over my head.
Dominic continues before I can answer. ‘The others won’t like it, but tough shit.’ He shrugs like it’s already decided.
Others?
How many of them exactly are there?
‘And when is the big day exactly?’ Ciaran interrupts my thoughts, a hint of humour in his tone. If he was shocked, it’s evaporated along with his second whiskey.
Dominic’s eyes veer to mine. ‘Is tomorrow too soon?’
He can’t be serious.
Even Rory gave my father two months’ notice. ‘Perhaps a little,’ I squeak.
‘You’re right. We need time to plan this properly.’ Dominic nods.
‘What about Uncle Frankie?’ Ciaran asks warily.
‘Leave him to me.’ Dominic fires his brother a warning look.
I take a sip of my second ever whiskey, oddly grateful for it. Not nearly as grateful for the fact that I’m no longer betrothed to Rory Kavanagh, though. Even if the cost is another terrifying—albeit disturbingly attractive —fiancé.
Ciaran bangs his glass down on the counter and turns to Dominic. ‘I’ll go deliver that parcel.’
I assume they’re referring to drugs. Which poor, unsuspecting family will lose a child to a heroin habit next? I glower but manage to hold my tongue—for once.
‘Keep mine and Aoife’s good news to yourself for now.’ It’s not a request. ‘I’ll tell the family myself.’
The family.
Sounds ominous.
What the fuck have I got myself into?
‘It’s your funeral,’ Ciaran shrugs, then fires one last wary look at us before disappearing out the back.
Dominic fixes the full weight of his attention back on me.
‘What’s the duration of this… arrangement?
’ I straighten my spine, forcing an air of detachment, but there’s nothing detached about the way my hand trembles in my lap.
Adrenaline races through my blood at his presence, at his proximity and at the arm that’s still draped around my shoulder.
I look at it pointedly and he drops it with a small chuckle.
‘We’ll have to remain married for a year—no matter how quickly I take Kavanagh out.’ He sips his whiskey casually, like we’re discussing the weather, not planning to murder a man.
‘Why?’
‘Our family has one rule,’ His eyes meet mine again. ‘Kincaids don’t marry for allegiance, position, or power. And certainly not to provoke our rivals. If my Uncle Frankie were to get wind of our arrangement, it would be… problematic—for both of us.’
‘So we have to act like we’re in love?’ I shake my head and my curls bounce around my face again. You couldn’t make this shit up. ‘What if we were to just announce our engagement?’ I gauge his reaction carefully. ‘Maybe I could hide out for a while until the Rory thing blows over?’
‘Sweetheart,’ his deep gritty voice sets my pulse spiking all over again, ‘The Rory thing won’t blow over until I blow his head off.
But don’t worry, I’m working on that tiny detail.
Until then, if you want the full protection of The Syndicate, you’ll need to be a Kincaid.
When you become my wife, each and every one of my men would die for you.
’ He swipes a hand over the dark stubble dusting his jaw.
‘I know you don’t want to marry me. But trust me, it’ll be worth it when Dublin is a Kavanagh free zone, and you can sleep safely in your bed at night without worrying if he, or any of his men, are after you. ’
I open my mouth to argue with him, before realising he’s right.
I’ll never be safe while Rory Kavanagh lives and breathes.
And neither will my father.
Dominic knocks back his whiskey and bangs the glass on the bar. ‘Come on. Let’s get out of here.’
I place my empty glass next to his, then shriek as he sweeps me up into his arms, cradling me against his chest. ‘I can walk!’ I squeal, flinching as my palm slides over his hard, muscular pec.
‘No, you can’t. Your feet have barely stopped bleeding. As your fiancé, it’s my responsibility to take care of you. Let me,’ he growls.
I sigh, wrap my arms around his neck and cling to him like a lifeline—because he’s the only one I’ve got. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Home.’ He carries me out the back, down a set of concrete stairs, and out into a secluded alleyway.
I don’t know if I’ve been saved by a dark and dangerous prince or captured by the beast of all beasts.
Either way, there’s not a lot I can do about it now.