Mary made a choking sound. "Sorry. We had a deal."
"Apparently you did." I didn't look away from Artem.
Ivan's grin flashed in the dark. "It doesn’t make you only Artem’s."
"True," Gregor said.
We all looked at him.
Artem's hand came up to cover mine. "Maeve. You don't have to do this."
"I know." I held his eyes. "That's rather the point."
"But in one month," Artem said. "The council will be there. Yuri will be there. Men who want an alliance."
"Then we'd better make sure they understand I'm not a weakness. They also need to know I am also the daughter of Callum McCarthy."
Artem made a sound that might have been a laugh or a prayer. Hard to tell.
Mary looked between all of us, then at me. "You're serious. Dad won’t agree to the alliance, Maeve."
"Serious enough to need a dress. Serious enough for my name to be on the wedding certificate," I turned to her, still holding Artem's gaze for one more beat before breaking it. “I’m sure Dad won’t notice the difference between Maeve and Mary. That kind of detail wasn’t his forte.”
“And me. I was getting a good deal out of this,” Mary whispered.
"And you're not going back to him. Ever. That's non-negotiable."
"I wasn't planning to offer a return policy," Artem muttered. “I made a deal with you. You agreed. We’re changing part of the deal but not your input.”
I took Mary's hand. "I've just found you and I'm keeping you until you’re ready to do what you want to."
Mary's eyes filled again, but she blinked hard. "You’re getting married."
I looked at Artem. Then at Ivan. Then at Gregor, who was still standing in the doorway.
"I'm about to marry the Pakhan of the Petrov Bratva," I said. "And my sister is going to be my bridesmaid."
Mary stared at us. Then, very slowly, she started to laugh. The sound was rusty and surprised, like laughter was a language she'd forgotten she spoke. "You've gone completely mad," she told me.
"Probably." I squeezed her hand. "But you're still staying."
She looked down at our joined hands. When she looked back up, some of the terror had cracked open and something fiercer was peeking through.
A McCarthy thing, maybe.
"Okay," she said.
Artem's hand found my lower back. "We should go inside. You need rest."
"I need a plan."
"Rest first."
"Are you managing me?"
"Yes."
I sighed. "Fine. But tomorrow we will discuss the logistics of this wedding. And no more secrets."
