Plotting the Fake Relationship #2
About a lot apparently. But not about Mick killing Troy. "So, if we can't tell my mom, I don't know how to convince her that I waited to introduce you until two days before the wedding," I say dispiritedly. "That's not how I treat my family."
And believing it's a choice I've made will hurt her. A lot. Even more than my decision to marry Troy at such a young age.
"Don't."
"Don't what? You think I should tell her after we get married and not even have her there?!" Okay, I'm yelling, but is he for real? "It's bad enough I've got to keep all of this from my sister from another mister."
And I don't know how I'm going to explain it to my best friend either.
I've been hiding the whole Troy was in the mob thing from her for a while though, so I've got some experience with the whole double life thing. And I hate it.
If Ellie knew I work for a mobster under duress, she'd put his info in a data packet on the dark web and sell it for identity theft or something. She's got a scary mind and a lot less scruples than your average person, but I love every rebellious inch of her.
Kieran's grip on the steering wheel tightens, but his stoic face gives nothing away. "Vegas."
"Vegas?" I ask. "You want to go to Las Vegas to get married? Where it happens isn't going to change the timing or how hurtful her believing I kept you a secret from her until right before the wedding will be."
"We change the narrative."
"That's a full sentence, but not at all illuminating," I complain. "I'm going to need more."
"Instead of telling her we're getting married in two days, we'll take your mom and our girls to Las Vegas this weekend."
It takes me a second to figure out how that would help. "And we say we want to take them away because of what happened to Sadie today and the cat's already out of the bag about the relationship because of that kiss." I warm to the idea. "Then when we are in Vegas, we pretend to get drunk married."
That's a thing, right?
"No." Kieran frowns and then adds, "Officiants in Las Vegas cannot marry people who are visibly intoxicated."
There goes the drunk married idea. I'm sure a mobster could convince someone to do it, but without knowing that's what happened, my mom isn't going to buy that narrative either. She's the kind of person who would look it up to see if the marriage could be annulled on those grounds.
Mom's a little overprotective. I have a feeling her and Kieran are going to have a lot in common on that score.
"How do you know that?" I ask, curious.
He shrugs. "I know a lot of things."
Okay then. "So, then why Vegas?"
"Spontaneous not drunk."
That could work. Mom won't be thrilled and she'll caution me like she did with Troy, but she won't be hurt. If Kieran kisses me like he did tonight a few times in front of mom, she'll be the one to suggest we get married before I get pregnant.
Ulp.
It'll also give me an out with Ellie. She'd never speak to me again if I got married without her there…unless it happened exactly like Kieran's suggesting.
Even then, she'll have plenty to say about it.
Putting thoughts of my mom and bestie aside, I focus on my next big worry. "Do you expect us to sleep together?"
Do I want to sleep with him?
You know you do, the inner hussy I didn't know I have taunts.
"We'll share a room. You will share your body when you are ready."
I force words past my suddenly dry throat, "Don't you have to be ready too?"
"I am."
"Oh. Um…that's good to know." I think. "I need you to move into our apartment. A surprise stepdad is going to be enough change for the girls to deal with at once."
I hate putting my kids through this kind of stressful transition, but I would hate to go on the run with them more, or worse, have them lose their mom because I refused to play ball.
"Agreed," he says without pausing to think about it. "They can help us pick out a house later."
"A house?" I squeak.
Yes, I literally squeaked. What is it about this man?
"Yes."
"But New York housing prices are ridiculous." Troy had ours mortgaged to the hilt and the payments were too big to keep it after his death.
My minivan suffered a similar fate, only it was leased and when the lease came up for renewal, I couldn't justify keeping it either. I bought a used hybrid compact that mom and I share since she picks the girls up from school most days.
Thankfully, the apartment in Queens we all moved into after Troy's death came with a parking spot.
Kenneth tried to get us to move to Long Island, but I told him flat out that I wasn't moving my girls so soon again. When he brought it up again a year later, I told him he would have to double my salary to make the rent possible.
That did not happen.
Kieran signals a turn. "I can afford it."
"Being a mobster pays that well?" Only if it did, why had Troy sold information on top of his earnings from the mob?
"I inherited money from my stepfather."
I don't know why, but I'm absolutely sure that the money had nothing to do with why Kieran killed the man.
"From the way he treated you, I'm surprised he left money to you."
"No will," Kieran says and then adds, "But on paper, I'm his son."
Kieran's trying to communicate more fully. I'll give him that.
"And he left enough money to buy a house in the City?" I ask when he doesn't say anything else.
"His estate was worth three-point-four million."
Woah! Okay, then. "Was he in the mob too?"
Lleshi is a Balkan name, but there's organized crime in Eastern Europe too.
"He was a member of the Albanian Boys."
Albanian then. "Crime pays well."
Which makes Troy's choices all the harder to understand.
"It does."
"I guess you'd know."
"My net worth is ten times that of my stepfather."
"What?" I practically screech. "Troy wouldn't have sold secrets if he'd been making that kind of money."
I don't think. For Troy, nothing was ever enough.
He wanted bespoke suits, not tailored ones from top designers. He wanted a Phillip Patek watch, not a Rolex and to drive a Lamborghini not a Porche. He said so often enough.
Not that either car option made sense for a family man.
"I worked freelance before I joined the mob."
"What do you mean freelance?" I gasp as understanding comes. "You were a hitman?"
"Sometimes. I also did protection and procurement."
Protection is pretty straight forward, but procurement? "You stole things?"
"Yes."
"But you did kill for money?" Apparently, lots of it.
There's a slight pause before he says, "Yes."
"Innocent people?" I don't know if I can marry a man who kills innocent people for money and expedience.
Even if he is rich and so good looking it hurts. Not to mention having the sex appeal of a love god.
Why is he agreeing to this marriage?
"No," he says.
"Never?"
"Never."
"How could you know though?"
"I researched the target before I took a job."
A conscientious hitman? That's a good thing, right? "I'm glad."
"Living in the darkness does not mean there is no light of integrity inside a man."
That's positively poetic, not to mention a lot of words. "If I didn't see light in you, I wouldn't have agreed to marry you," I admit.
There's no point jumping from the frying pan into the fire.
"How long have we been dating?" Kieran asks, clearly done with the subject of his freelance work.
We discuss the details of our fake relationship and Kieran offers information he thinks I need to know.
His official job is as a security director with a company owned by the mob, not that the mob part is common knowledge.
I need to ask him the name of the company, but first I want to know, "Does that mean you don't act as security now? Or procure things for your boss?"
And if he does, is his job very dangerous? For some reason, the idea of Kieran in danger doesn't sit well with me.
"I do whatever Brice needs me to do."
"Who's Brice?"
"My boss."
"I thought Mick was your boss."
"Everyone in the mob works for Mick and Brogan, but Brice is one of Mick's lieutenants."
"It's okay to tell me stuff like that?" I can't help asking.
"I trust you."
"How can you? We barely know each other."
He shrugs, like the why doesn't matter, but it does. This man does not strike me as one who trusts easily.
However, no matter how many times I come back around to that, Kieran doesn't give me an answer that makes sense.
I just do is not even a little enlightening.
Then the lightbulb of comprehension flips on in my brain. "You know that if I betrayed you, the underboss would kill me." Just like he did Troy. "And I know it too."
If the fear of Mick Fitzgerald seeing me as a traitor like my husband kept me in New York working for the entitled family from hell for six years, I'm not about to risk overt betrayal and leaving my children orphans.
That's not the same as Kieran trusting me with his secrets because he trusts my integrity and loyalty though.
And I don't know why that should cause a prick of pain in the region of my heart.