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I had thoroughly considered, tried, and tested every word before I would let it pass my lips. My admission of being a man of values was no joke; I wanted her to understand the significance of this moment and what it would mean for us, for the future, even if she wished the ground would swallow her up and take her far away from me.
And that would never happen.
When it was her turn to speak, the room fell silent. She became silent. And when she turned her gaze away from me, an uneasy feeling crept up my spine, spreading quickly like hot oil poured down a drain.
The priest urged her on. She remained silent. A murmur went through the crowd, and I felt anger rising in me. I gritted my teeth and took a steadying breath. I tapped her hand, almost pinching her to inflict some kind of pain or reaction to get her attention. But she just stared at her feet.
Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.
My eyes flickered. No. More. Fucking. Suspense. “Julia...”
The doors swung open and over two dozen men in dark suits marched into the greenhouse, rifles in the air, and a small path was made to facilitate the dramatic entrance of a man I immediately recognized. Red hair, a navy-blue suit, and a black Glock in his hand.
He spread his arms with a stupid grin on his wrinkled face. “Am I late to the party?”
“Sohrani yeyo v bezopasnosti,” [Keep her safe], I whispered to Viktor.
He sprang into action, pushed Juliana behind him, and pulled his gun, and my men, from all corners, cocked theirs and aimed at the intruders. All they needed was a snap of my fingers and it would have been a bloodbath. I stepped down from the podium and fastened a button on my jacket.
“I'd say it's perfect timing, O’Sullivan. We were just getting to the part where I finally become the husband of that beautiful woman over there.” I stopped in front of him. My eyes narrowed as my hand caressed the gun tucked under my belt. “What the hell do you want? And don't you dare let it be my fucking wife?”
Cian O’Sullivan. Boss of the Irish Mafia, and not one of the Bratva's allies. Ninety percent of the time we had confrontations and were at loggerheads. When we weren't, we were avoiding each other, so I didn't expect him to show up at my wedding. What could be the reason for this sudden bout of anger??
He chuckled, a low throaty rumble at the back of his throat. Then, the amusement in his green eyes faded to a dark forest. He glanced at someone behind me, and his jaw ticked. “Why the fuck do you have my daughter?”
“Your daughter? I have your daughter?” I could have laughed at his madness and put a bullet through his head on the spot for ruining my occasion, but the dead seriousness of his tone stopped my twitching fingers from pulling the trigger.
I angled my head and followed his gaze. Surprise, surprise. They fell on the one I had least expected. Now, my mind was racing. I certainly had not seen that one coming. Red hair, green eyes ... Ava fucking Turner.
“How could I not see that?” I murmured to Viktor who was surprised too before I turned back to Cian. “There's a hell of a resemblance. Damn. Strong genes. I didn’t realize you were capable of having children, O’Sullivan. You've fucked so many whores and I’d never heard of a possible heir. You hid that one pretty well. I was beginning to think you were infertile.”
His teeth bared, flashing a pretense smile. “You’ve always been the jokester, Rafail. I’ll appreciate your sense of humor much more after I get out of here. With her.”
“Oh, you can have her.” I withdrew my hand from my belt and signaled Viktor. He brought the redhead forward. “I have no need for this one. She’s useless to me.”
She ran into her father’s arms, and for the first time, I saw that Cian had a softer side. He turned her around and scrutinized her with a look that would break my neck if he saw so much as a scratch on her body. I rolled my eyes.
“She is safe and unharmed.” I turned around. “Take her and get out.”
“Papa!” Ava cried behind me. “Please, let’s take Juliana with us. We can’t leave her. We can’t ...”
My eyes flashed. Before I could stop myself. I pulled my gun, and I spun around, aiming at Cian’s forehead. Tension cackled like electric sparks in the air. His men raised their weapons, and we didn’t let up.
“And you will only do that over my dead body,” I hissed. “No one takes what is mine! Juliana is none of your business, O’Sullivan. You have no right to have her. So, for the last time, take your daughter and get the fuck out!”
The thunder in my voice bounced off the translucent walls and Ava flinched.
“I’m sorry, Mo leanbh,” [my darling.] “I can do nothing more. And we don’t want to have any more problems with them than we already have. Come on, we must go now.”
“No!” Ava shouted, trying to defend herself. But one last look into my eyes made her give up her determination to fight. She glanced behind my shoulder and shared a pained look with her best friend. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed.
Cian was already at the door. “Ava,” his deep voice commanded. Reluctantly, she moved towards her father, her head hung low and tears shimmering in her eyes.
I went back to Juliana on the podium and the tears in her eyes mirrored Ava’s. She was heartbroken, and not just because her friend had left her behind.
The realization came immediately. Cian’s presence at the wedding was no coincidence, it was planned. Somehow Ava must have contacted her father, and he traced her whereabouts to my house.
That was Juliana’s final plan to escape. And I foiled it.
