Page 7 of Gareth

“Maxfield,” Gareth cut over him. “She is no longer an O'Brien, which makes her no longer your concern. She is fully under my protection, and if you so much as try to take her from me...” His voice trailed off, and my body literally trembled at the way he was looking at my father. “Well, you know exactly what will happen.”

Growing up as the heiress to the O'Brien empire, I knew exactly what he was talking about. My family and Gareth's had a sordid history that dated all the way back to the early twenties.

And while the blood feuds between the families had calmed over time, at least enough for us to sit at the same poker table, the feud had never been forgotten. A binding agreement between our families had never been up for discussion.

The weight of what I’d done by calling in my favor finally hit me, and I felt my knees go weak. I cursed myself for the vulnerability, hating that I’d had to come to Gareth in order to take some semblance of control of my life.

But what had I traded it for, a marriage to another mobster? Had I traded my prison for a gilded cage?

Trapped.

I felt absolutely trapped.

My father had backed me into a corner, forcing me to make an impossible choice. Now I was going to have to deal with that choice.

“Don't you dare threaten me,” my father fired back. “What you've done is start something that you no doubt can't finish.”

“I'd be more concerned with what you've done,” Gareth said. He lowered his tone, but I still caught the words. “Look at what you forced your daughter into. Think about that, Doyle. Think about the fact that she came to me, of all people, because of what you pushed her into. Everything that happens next is on your hands.”

“Annul it.” My father's tone left no room for objection. “Unless you've consummated the marriage, she's still of value to me. Annul it.”

“I don't like the tone you're using, O’Brien.” Brooks's voice sounded from behind me, making me jump a little where I stood in the entryway.

I hadn't heard him approach at all. It made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I’d met Gareth’s best friend last night, when he'd met us at the little chapel in Las Vegas. He was tall with lithe muscles concealed beneath simple clothes, yet there was nothing simple about him. Sure, he was attractive, his rich brown eyes almost charming, and he'd been kind and respectful to me last night. But he had a dangerous exterior that put me on alert. I'd spent my life raised by mobsters, and I could easily spot a killer. Brooks was most certainly one, but he had a confident, almost humorous edge about him that made him even more terrifying than Gareth, who was all brutal strength and no-nonsense attitude. I suppose the only consolation about the warning signs bursting beneath my skin about Gareth’s friend was that now I was under his protection, too.

“You called in him?” my father asked, and it shocked me a little to see the recognition and wariness in his eyes. He either knew Brooks or knew stories about him. Of course, I knew nothing. I’d been kept in the dark about almost everything, just like my mother and her mother before her, and so on and so forth.

“Witness,” Brooks said. “I was there. I signed the paperwork. Their marriage is legally binding and legitimate.”

My father shook his head again, a look of utter betrayal on his face as his eyes met mine. “You have no idea what you’ve fucked up,” he said, using the tone he'd adopted since I was young, scolding me in a way that normally had me standing up straighter.

I was too tired to do that today. To do it ever again.

“And you,” he continued, returning his focus to Gareth. “I promise you, you’ll regret this.” With a glare, he spun on his heels and stomped down the hallway.

Gareth calmly shut the door, bolting both locks before he turned around to finally look at me.

My knees finally gave out, and I sank to the floor, right there in the middle of the entryway in front of Gareth and Brooks.

I sucked in a trembling breath, willing my heart to slow, but I couldn’t turn off every fear and worry and submissive reaction that my father had cultivated within me over the past twenty-five years.

I didn't know how long it would take to heal from that damage, or if it was even possible. I could only hope, with Gareth's protection, that I’d have the time and space to figure it out.

But right now?

I felt like that stupid little girl my father accused me of being. I felt foolish and naïve and completely out of my depth.

I felt like giving up.

The idea of climbing out of the hole I'd been raised in was so damn overwhelming.

“Brooks,” Gareth said, as he hurried over to me. “Grab us some food, would you? We need to eat before we get on the plane.”

“On it,” he said, hurrying out of the room.

Gareth’s scent washed over me as he crouched down to my level, tipping my chin up in that gentle way of his, even with hands as deadly as his. It was almost a mirror image of the way he’d looked at me last night—the silent, protective look. Of course, I had no idea if that was because I was just a valuable investment, but right now I didn't care.

“He's not going to hurt you,” Gareth said, his tone unflinching. “You’re safe with me.”

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