Epilogue
Rhys
The invitation from Ares Zervas came hand-delivered by a bloke who waited for my reply. Okay, I got a late invite. But hundreds of people are at his New Year’s Eve party. It’s on the roof of a Gothic revival missions building.
He purchased it last year, and it’s the new seat of their growing and consolidated Mafia power.
The only reason I’m here is that my cousins and brother are all here, too.
I was told it was mandatory because we are aligned with the Greeks.
“How long do we have to stay?” Fallon asks, slipping her hand into mine as we pass the security arch, her silver dress catching light in soft ripples. “Can we do one of those Irish exits in thirty minutes?”
I tug her close to me and whisper in her ear, “Between that and you clawing at me for sex every night, begging for my cock, I created a monster.”
Her smile glows brighter than the sparkling lights strung overhead. “You didn’t answer me.”
“I’d rather be home sharpening knives, eating mac and cheese, and watching the ball drop on television. With you.”
“So why aren’t we?”
“We will have a grand view of the fireworks show over the East River.” I bring her to the roof’s edge, protected by six-inch-thick by eight-foot-high glass barriers.
“I like the fireworks we make.” She squeezes my hand.
“Me too, love.” I kiss her nose. “Do you like your engagement ring?”
“I love my ring.” She lifts her hand and sighs dreamily, admiring the diamonds.
“I’m surprised you didn’t want the five-carat option.”
“That was audacious. And besides…” She presses the ring to her cheek. “This is exactly what I knew you’d pick out.”
“Why?”
She glances around. “You didn’t grow up rich.”
“No. Not money-wise. But we were happy.” I tug her closer and realize she had the exact opposite childhood. A rich father who gave her nice clothes and things, but nothing in the emotional department.
My parents are already smothering her. I don’t know who in my family is happier. It’s a five-way tie, including Shea.
In the center of the room, Connor, Raina, and Griffin have gathered around a black velvet banquet. Shane and Lennox skipped the party, but it’s because they just had a baby girl.
Ava isn’t here either, which is odd. But I heard she’s expecting again, so maybe she stayed home. Wait, nope, she’s with her brothers, on the other side of the roof, arguing with Ares.
Clocking faces, this place is filled with a sea of CEOs, politicians, celebrity surgeons, the city’s top attorneys, billionaire chefs, sports club owners, a priest, and a few very distinguished university presidents.
Ares isn’t securing allies. He has summoned subjects. That consolidation he talked about is closer at hand than we thought.
Trace and Shea amble over to us, my brother seeing what I’m seeing.
“This is quite the guest list,” I say to Trace, holding on to Fallon.
“Something feels off here,” he says, glancing around.
“My husband is right.” Shea narrows her eyes across the sea of suits. “There is something very off here tonight. No one looks happy.”
“There’s a lot of pressure on New Year’s Eve,” Fallon adds.
She doesn’t see it. But Trace does, and so do I. We’ve been trained for this.
With Ava no longer waving a finger at her brother, Ares moves through the crowd like a lion inspecting his pride.
People part for him, offering a bow as he passes. Even the bleedin’ priest. Holy crap.
Then I catch a woman walking a few feet behind him. It doesn’t click right away, but when Ares reaches back and takes her hand to bring her to his side, my heart drops into my stomach.
Lourdes Sinclair is stunning, a bombshell in a maroon silk dress that wraps around her curvy body. Her bright blonde hair is a shocking contrast to her blood red lipstick and black mascara.
“She’s very pretty.” Fallon always strips things down to the basics. “But she looks sad.”
“That’s terror,” Raina says.
“Her husband was the man who broke into my flat,” I whisper to Fallon. “The one I killed.”
“Does she know Ares is the one who ordered his death?”
“Aye,” I say.
Across the room, Ares leans in to whisper something in her ear. She doesn’t smile. She doesn’t move. She just nods once, slow and mechanical.
“I just heard Ava give Griffin an update,” Connor says. “He’s going to marry her.”
“They’re in love?” Fallon says, scrunching her nose.
“I doubt Ares knows how to love.” I tuck her hand into my folded arms. “Not everyone is as lucky as we are.”
Connor leans in. “She knows he killed her husband. For her. To marry her. Apparently, he’s off the rails for her.”
Elias Black’s company has been completely consumed by the Bratva. Everyone left alive pledged their possessions, tangible and intangible to the Volkovs. Including their wives.
But it looks like one got away.
Lourdes Sinclair.
Then Connor whispers something in my ear, and I go still. My eyes shoot back to Ares and Lourdes. How long? How long until it’s known that Lourdes didn’t get away empty-handed?
A ripple moves through the crowd as midnight approaches. The row of overhead clear lightbulbs flickers. Once. Twice. Long enough for my instincts to flare.
“Come on,” Connor says, signaling to me and Trace, “Raina, guard Fallon.”
“What about me?” Shea says, folding her arms.
“The last man who tried to hurt you lost his head,” Trace says, grinning at his wife.
“That and she has Lachlan O’Rourke on speed dial. No one will dare harm her,” I add.
“Oh my God, Shea.” Fallon gasps and tucks in close to Raina. “You and Rhys have a lot in common. He practically decapitated Kosta.”
“We are lucky, lucky women,” Shea says, and locks Fallon firmly behind Raina.
Guests drink Ares’s expensive champagne and watch the fireworks, not realizing something horrible has happened.
In the elevator foyer, the only entrance into the rooftop club, Ares is a wall between everyone and Lourdes, who shakes in her skimpy dress. She’s not only guarded, she’s claimed.
A widow, hunted by the Bratva.
But why? What does she know? What does she have that belongs to the Volkovs?
“Ares,” I call out to him.
Zervas holds up his hand and doesn’t even turn around. “Walk away, Quinlan. This doesn’t concern you.”
“We’re allies, Ares,” Griffin says, parting through us.
“Not for this.” He turns around. “Not anymore.”
In his hand is a letter.
And behind him are seven bodies on the floor. Dead.
His guards.
“Not again!” Ava says with a chilling echo of the night she was kidnapped, and another batch of guards died.
Griffin doesn’t let up, though. His wife is Greek, and this might drag the empire into a conflict. “Ares, we know your secret might be valuable to the wrong people.”
“No one will touch this woman,” Ares says calmly. “Any part of her…”
I shudder at what that means.
Oh shite…
Midnight strikes and fireworks split the sky as the city cheers.
Ares leans down and presses a harsh kiss against her lips. Whatever bargain was made, it wasn’t gentle. Might never be.
Whatever future is growing, it’s already being fought over.
Some men marry for power.
Others for control.
Ares looks like a man who would marry to protect something the world has decided to hunt. And God help anyone who tries to take it from him.
Thank you for reading Wicked Deception.
Keep scrolling for more Rhys and Fallon in a Bonus Epilogue: