Chapter 45 Vin
Vin
The whiskey burns going down, but not as much as the fucking guilt.
I don’t want to be here. I want to be back at the safe house with Sophie, buried balls deep inside her while she makes those sweet little sounds that drive me insane.
Instead, I’m at my friend Ronan MacCuinn’s place, surrounded by Irish bastards who can drink me under the table, trying to gather intel before I end this shit with my own father.
Maybe find out what this fucking promise is that I supposedly made without letting on that I have no fucking idea what it is I’m supposedly on the hook for.
“Another round!” Ronan slaps the table, grinning like a fucking idiot. “We’re celebrating!”
“Celebrating what?” I drain my glass, barely tasting it. My mind keeps drifting back to Sophie bent over that kitchen counter, laughing while I fucked her, talking about christening every surface. Christ, just thinking about her makes my cock hard.
“You getting married, you dense fuck!” One of Ronan’s cousins—Declan? Liam? I can’t keep the Irish straight when I’m sober, much less three drinks in—laughs while one of Ronan’s sisters whose been hovering over my shoulder all night shoves another glass in my hand.
I freeze, the glass halfway to my lips. Does he mean Sophie? How the fuck does he know about her? “What the fuck are you talking about?”
The table goes quiet. Ronan’s smile falters. “The contract between our fathers. You and Ashlyn.”
He juts his chin toward the woman who’s been hanging two feet away all night: auburn hair, big tits squeezed into a dress two sizes too small, perfume so strong it makes my eyes water.
She chooses that moment to slide into my lap.
I push the flat of my palm against her back immediately, keeping her at a distance, as my mind races.
Contract. Marriage. Ashlyn. Is this the fucking promise?
“My father just told us,” Ronan continues, watching me carefully now. “I thought you knew. I mean, you must have known, right? The deal was made years ago, when we were about 20.”
Twenty. I was 20 when my father was still running the family into the ground, making deals I knew nothing about, treating me like a weapon instead of a son. When he was fucking the woman he planted as my girlfriend to control me.
I force a laugh, because confusion is weakness, and I don’t show weakness. “Right. The contract.”
But inside, my stomach is twisting into knots. I can smell Ashlyn’s perfume on my shirt, and all I can think about is Sophie smelling it, thinking I was with someone else. The thought makes me want to peel my own skin off.
“It triggers when you become boss.” Ronan relaxes now that he thinks I’m in the loop.
“Which my father thinks is happening soon, given the war with Aurelio. He supports you, Vin. We all do. And I told your brothers that we have a deal with the ports as soon as you fulfill that promise. Which is practically any day now right?”
I look at the woman in my lap. She’s objectively pretty, the kind of woman I would have fucked without a second thought a few months ago and never thought about again.
She’s trying to smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
She looks the way I feel: trapped. But she puts on a good show, laughing, letting her nails trail down my neck, giving back to her brothers as good as she gets.
I clear my throat and pat her back, indicating I want her off.
She rises and so do I, and Ronan couldn’t smile any bigger if he tried, looking at the two of us.
“Ashlyn’s a good girl,” Ronan says, and there’s genuine affection in his voice.
He hooks an arm around my neck, pulling me close so the others can’t hear.
“I know who you are, Vin. I don’t expect you to be faithful to her.
But as a favor to me, keep your other women well hidden.
I don’t want her feelings hurt. You understand. ”
Other women. Sophie isn’t another woman. She’s— What? What the fuck is she?
The only woman I’ve ever been able to see myself marrying. The woman who makes me want to quit smoking because she doesn’t like it. The woman whose restaurant burned down because of me, and I promised her father I’d keep safe.
The woman I’m fucking in love with. The realization hits like a fucking hurricane.
“I got the feeling from talking to you and Matti that you were seeing that Italian broad you were staying with,” Ronan continues, oblivious to the fact that my entire world just shifted on its axis. “Almost had me scared when it was more than just a quick bang like usual.”
I force a laugh. It sounds hollow even to my own ears. “Yeah, that was nothing.”
Nothing. Sophie, nothing. The words taste like shit.
Ronan grins and claps me on the shoulder.
“Can’t believe our good fucking luck! You and I always knew you’d have to marry for an alliance, but to ally with us and for you and I to become brothers?
Couldn’t have planned it better myself. One day, you and I will be the bosses in charge.
I swear this is the only smart deal our fathers ever made. ”
He’s right. The alliance with the Irish is solid.
They supported me over Aurelio from the start, even though their father has been working with him for years.
Or maybe because of that. But without them, the port deal falls through.
Without the ports, the all new Demonio Brotherhood has nothing.
We’d go from one war straight into another, and we wouldn’t survive it.
I’ve always known I’d marry for an alliance. I just didn’t know the alliance had already been chosen or that it would come so soon.
“Can she cook?” I ask, because it’s the only thing I can think to say.
Ronan laughs. “She was raised so she didn’t have to cook. That’s what hired help is for.”
Of course she was. I can barely stop myself from rolling my eyes.
Images of Sophie in the kitchen, naked except for an apron, making me gnocchi from scratch with two different sauces because she knows I can’t choose between bolognese and pesto.
Sophie asking me if love would make me a stronger man, a better boss.
The answer to that is yes. I’m definitely better with her. And I’m about to fucking lose her.
“We haven’t talked about the changes that will happen when you take over,” Ronan says, settling back into serious business mode. “The ports, security contracts, territory divisions—”
Ashlyn refills my glass and tries to settle more comfortably in my lap. I let her, because Ronan looks so fucking happy to see us together, and I can’t afford to make an enemy of the Irish. Not now. Not when everything depends on this alliance.
I down the drink, but it does nothing to relax me. Every muscle in my body is tense, and she pours another.
They start talking about port security, distribution routes, profit splits. All I can hear is the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears like a death knell.
My relationship with Sophie won’t survive this.
There’s no world where I get to keep her and honor this contract.
No scenario where I become boss and get to come home to her cooking every night, fall asleep with her mouth on my cock, wake up inside her while she whispers sí, padrone against my skin.
For a split second, I wonder if I can make it work: Ashlyn as my wife for political purposes and Sophie as my true wife, the old school way with two families we talked about.
But I immediately discard the idea. Sophie deserves better than that, and I could never look her in the eye and ask her to do that.
Then I hear in my head her words from one of our first mornings together: I could just mean that I enjoy playing with you until my husband comes along.
Except I want to be that husband. I even told her that, and I meant it.
But that was before I knew about Ashlyn. Before I knew about the contract. Before I understood that becoming boss means giving up the only thing that’s ever made me want to be a better man.
“Another drink, Vin?” Someone pushes a glass into my hand.
Fuck, give me all the drinks. I’m getting fucking wasted tonight.
I look at Ashlyn. She’s pretty. Fiery. Probably good in bed, once I train her the way I like. There’s nothing wrong with this girl.
Except she’s not Sophie.
In fact, she’s the opposite of Sophie in every way. Loud where Sophie is quiet. Brash where Sophie is gentle. Cold where Sophie is warm.
She’ll never look at me the way Sophie does. She’ll never make me want to be better than the monster my father raised me to be.
But she’s what the family needs, what this whole fucking war has been leading up to.
I down the drink. Ashlyn pours another.
The Irish are still talking ports, territories, and percentages, but all I can think about is Sophie waiting for me at the safe house. Probably in bed in her flimsy little tank top, hair up, tight little shorts on her hot ass.
Or maybe she’s on her knees on my side of the bed, waiting to take my cock in her mouth the second I walk through the door.
Maybe she’s fallen asleep with her hand between her legs, thinking about me the way I’ve been thinking about her every fucking second since I left.
I reach for another drink, and another, trying to drown the image of Sophie’s face when I tell her.
Trying not to imagine the way her eyes will go dark with hurt, the way she’ll bite her lip to keep from crying, the way she’ll probably still smile and say I understand because that’s who she fucking is.
Sweet. Generous. Too good for me. Way too fucking good for me.
“To Vin and Ashlyn!” Ronan raises his glass, grinning like we’re celebrating instead of signing my death warrant. “May your union bring prosperity to both our families!”
The table erupts in cheers. Ashlyn’s hand tightens on my shoulder. Her perfume is seeping into my clothes, marking me, erasing every trace of Sophie’s scent.
I drain my glass and reach for the bottle.
By the time I stumble out of there hours later, I’m too drunk to drive, too drunk to think, too drunk to do anything except stare at Sophie’s name in my contacts.
My phone buzzes in my hand with a text from Matti:
We found Aurelio.
It’s time.
It’s time.
I order a ride share without responding to Matti. I can’t go back to the safe house smelling like this. I can’t look her in the eye and destroy her tonight.
But I will destroy her. It’s what I do best: destroy beautiful things.