He stares at me. I don’t blink.
“We’ll see.” Then he walks away. I watch him go, my pulse hammering against my throat.
Jesus, there is so much about that guy that puts me on edge. He’s a spiteful prick with a superiority complex. I’ve met plenty of men like him over my career. Crushed them all. He should really beware.
Maybe he thought his sneer and the venom in his voice would scare me, but fuck that. And fuckhim.
Lochlan appears at my side. His hand rests on the small of my back and my skin immediately sizzles.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Fine.”
“Liar.” But he doesn’t push. “My father wants to do a toast.”
“Of course he does.”
Eamon stands at the head of the room and clinks his knife to the side of his glass to get everyone’s attention. When he raises his glass, the crowd quiets.
“To the union of two great families,” he says, voice smooth as silk, words curdling my blood. “To the alliance that will make us stronger. To my son and his beautiful bride.”
Everyone drinks and cheers. I barely wet my lips on the rim of the glass.
Lochlan leans in. “Your turn.”
“What?” My eyebrows fly up.
“You have to toast. The bride’s supposed to say something.”
“I wasn’t planning on?—”
“Too late.” He nods toward the expectant faces in the room. “They’re waiting.”
I’m going to kill him. Later. When there are fewer witnesses.
I raise my glass. Every eye in the room lands on me.
“To blood and bullshit,” I say. “The foundation of every great empire.”
Dead silence.
Then Cillian laughs. It’s loud but genuine. “Holy shit. I think I love her.”
Lochlan raises his glass to mine, and we clink them together.
He grins. “To blood and bullshit.”
And then we drink.
An hour later, we’re in his car. The city slides by outside the window, glittering lights a blur as we drive through the city.
I’m married.
The ring feels foreign on my finger. Heavy with intent. And so very wrong.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Home.”
