Chapter 14 Leila #2
“You made an offer that wouldn’t work out the way you thought it would. It wasn’t as simple as paying off your debt. This is a last resort. I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought there was another way.”
That stings, even though I know this isn’t the time to let my feelings be hurt by something that isn’t personal. "What would that mean, exactly? This temporary marriage?"
Ronan takes a sip of his whiskey. "It would mean you'd be under the absolute protection of the O'Malley family. No one could touch you without declaring war on us directly."
"And you think that would be enough? To stop your father, to keep the Russians on your side?"
He looks at me keenly. "I know it would be. Family is everything in our world. Once you're officially part of mine, the rules change completely. Again, my father would be angry. There’s no doubt about that. But he can’t undo the rules of our world. He lives by them, and he has to abide by them."
I study his face, looking for some sign of what this really means to him. "And after? When it's over?"
"After, you'd be free to go. Back to your mother, back to your life. With enough money to ensure you never have to worry about anything again. I’d make sure you’re provided for, that your mother receives the same standard of care she is now.
I wouldn’t just cut you loose. You’d be well-off, far more than you could have ever expected to be before. "
I narrow my eyes at him. It sounds too good to be true, which in my experience means it probably is. "There has to be a catch. There's always a catch."
Ronan goes very still. "There are… conditions."
I can feel myself tense, too. "What kind of conditions?"
He sighs. "For the marriage to be valid, both in the eyes of civil law and the mafia leaders, it would have to appear genuine. People would have to believe it was real."
I frown in confusion. "Meaning?"
"Meaning we'd have to live as husband and wife, at least publicly.
There could be no question of the legitimacy of our marriage.
You would have to behave as my wife in any circumstance where others were present.
And our wedding night—" He pauses, and I can see him shift, see the tension running through him like a live wire. “It would have to be real.”
My cheeks flush hot, and I feel that same tension suddenly vibrating through me. "You mean we'd have to..."
"Have sex.” His voice is flat, carefully so, as if he’s trying not to betray anything he’s thinking. “If we didn't, if anyone found out the marriage was never consummated, it could be annulled. And then you'd lose all protections."
The room suddenly feels too small, the air too thin. He's asking me to marry him—temporarily—and to sleep with him to make it believable.
"How long?" I manage to ask. My throat feels tight. My body is humming. I should be thinking about what it would mean to say yes to this, what my options are, but all I can think about is Ronan’s body up against mine in the library, his lips on mine, his fingers touching my chin.
Of how he felt against my body, hard and wanting.
His voice cuts through my thoughts, and I’m glad the fire gives me an excuse for how red my cheeks feel. "I don't know. Months, maybe. However long it takes to eliminate Rocco and ensure your safety."
"Months of pretending to be your wife."
He draws in a breath. "Months of being my wife."
The distinction hits me like a slap. This wouldn't be pretend, not really. It would be real in every way that matters, at least until it wasn't anymore. The only thing that wouldn’t be there is love. But I suspect that’s not much of a consideration in his world.
“I—” I squeeze my hands into fists against my thighs. “I need to think about this.”
“Of course. But Leila—” He looks at me intensely as I stand up unsteadily.
"We don't have much time. My father meant what he said about two days. Before that time is up, a ring needs to be on your finger and betrothal papers signed in front of a priest." Ronan pauses. “I need to know by the morning. The priest already won’t like how quick it is, but I’ll make a large donation to the church, and he’ll do as I ask.”
Money. More money. So much of it paving Ronan’s way to whatever he wants. To my mother’s comfort, to my protection, to a future where I could do whatever I want just by agreeing to do this his way.
And really, what other way is there?
But I still need to think. I can’t make another desperate decision and have it turn out to be a huge mistake.
I bite my lip. "And if I say no?"
"Then we'll figure something else out. But this is our best option, Leila. Maybe our only option."
I nod, not trusting my voice to remain steady. "I'll let you know tomorrow." I turn to go, and I hear his voice behind me, low and rough.
"Leila, wait."
I pause with my hand on the doorknob.
"Whatever you decide, I want you to know that I'll keep you safe. You have my word."
There's something in his voice, something raw that makes my chest ache. Somewhere along the way, this has become personal for him.
I have a feeling it has something to do with this mysterious wife.
A wife he clearly doesn’t want me to know about, even when I’m on the verge of possibly becoming his.
My mind is spinning as I walk back up to my room.
Marriage. I hadn’t even really thought about the word before this.
My life hasn’t even involved dating, let alone marriage.
I’ve been focused on myself. On college, on my career.
I was just about to get started dipping my toe into the waters of hookups and dates and finding a relationship.
I hadn’t even begun to question if I really wanted to get married someday.
Possibly, yes… but that meant finding the right person, and that felt very far off.
Now a mafia boss has asked me to be his wife. To protect me. Another way to keep me safe—maybe the only way, according to him.
A mafia boss who had another wife. Something happened to her, and I don’t know what.
I should have asked him. Should have told him that I knew, told him that I needed the truth before I agreed to be his second wife.
I’m not entirely sure why I didn’t, except… some part of me doesn’t think he’s keeping it a secret for a nefarious reason. I think he hasn’t told me because he’s hurting, and he can’t be that vulnerable with me.
Not when he’s been trying to push me away.
The irony of all of this isn't lost on me. A few months ago, I was desperate enough to take money from a loan shark to save my mother. Now I'm being offered marriage to one of the most powerful men in Boston's underworld.
It should terrify me. And it does, on one level. But there's another part of me, a part I don't want to examine too closely, that's intrigued by the possibility. I think about the kiss we shared, the electricity that sparked between us, the way he pulled away like I'd burned him.
This wouldn't be a real marriage, I tell myself. It would be protection, pure and simple. A business arrangement with benefits for both of us. But it would also mean sleeping with him. It would mean touching him again, letting him touch me. It would mean his mouth on mine, again.
And this time, he wouldn’t stop.
I could have him for a little while. I could experience what it would be like to be his, not completely, but temporarily.
I can’t shake the guilt I feel for wanting this, for thinking I could find some enjoyment in this experience when it’s been so traumatic for me, for my mother.
I’ve upended Ronan’s life and forced him into this position, even if I didn’t mean to involve him.
But I can’t help but think that while I don’t know how I feel about being his wife, I don’t think I’ll mind being in his bed.
I want him. That hasn’t changed.
And tomorrow, I have to decide whether I'm brave enough to marry him.