Prologue
KINGSLEY
Women often daydreamed about the day they would walk down the aisle in their long, expensive, white dress and veil since they were little girls.
I was never a little girl, but I too used to daydream about my wedding day.
Growing up with two sisters, they’d make me play dress-up all the time. Aralynn would make me her groom and herself the bride, while Odette, as the maid of honor, would shower the area with flower petals. Sometimes, our cousin Mateo would officiate, using a bible he took from his mother’s nightstand to add to the realism.
Mom, Dad, and Uncle Santiago found it cute that Mateo and I entertained my sisters’ fantasies. One time he told us, “You can say no sometimes. I know you boys don’t enjoy playing pretend.” My cousin and I shared a confused brow furrow. That wasn’t true—we liked having a make-believe wedding in preparation for our own someday.
The adults laughed and rubbed our heads as if we were joking, but when we didn’t laugh back, they understood wemeant it. Their little boys, dreaming about marrying someone they love, like in the movies? Preposterous. My father and uncle never thought about marriage as something to look forward to, so why would their sons?
That’s when we learned our parents were in arranged marriages. Mom never wanted to marry Dad. Aunt Patricia never wanted to marry Uncle Santiago. But they knew it was what was expected of them, so they did it. Now they wouldn’t trade their spouses for the world, but there was a time when it was a mere business transaction.
Mateo and I weren’t sure what they meant back then. I told them that people don’thaveto get married through arrangements. And I was right, you don’t have to, but if you care about your family’s legacy, you’ll do what’s best for it.
I understand what they meant now.
Choked by my tie, I tilt my head to watch Dad fix it for me in the mirror. I’ve been wearing tuxedos since I was five years old, and yet I still struggle with them. At least Dad is here to help this time.
“You’re choking me,” I wheeze while pulling at my throat.
He gives the tie a yank, constricting my breath further. “I wouldn’t be if you could tie this yourself. You’re twenty years old, goddammit.”
“Yeah, well, make it any tighter, and I won’t be making it down the aisle.”
My father’s face wrinkles as he looks at me expressionlessly. While he finishes, I give myself a once-over in the mirror. Though the tight, neat cornrows my black hair is styled in still feel like they’re squeezing my skull, at least I’m looking good. I would have liked my hair in my usual twists for my wedding day, but Sylvie likes my hair better this way, so I kept it.
Dad pats me on the chest. “You’re something else, son.”
Something else? I believe he meant to say “best son in the world,” because that’s what I am. I’m about to marry the woman I vowed to keep at least ten feet away from, for fuck’s sake. I think that warrants me being the best son ever.
I’ve known Sylvie Crenshaw since we were preteens. Out of all my sisters’ friends, she is the last one I would want to be with because not only is she a control freak, but she has always been out to get me. If you thought you’d met the bossiest, opinionated person in the world, you hadn’t met Sylvie.
Imagine how I felt when Mom and Dad suggested I marry her. Maybe I should say “told me” since they’d already clued me in as a kid that I’d likely marry for the empire’s sake.
I could’ve rebelled. I could have stood firm on my desire to marry someone I loved, something my parents never got to do. Truthfully, I planned to oppose them until I understood the benefits.
We’re already allies with the Crenshaws, who lead their own major crime syndicate, and a marital connection would solidify both our empires. This should prevent any double-crossing and deter some low-lives who want to take us down. Think of it as two big bads coming together to make one even bigger bad.
“Listen, Kingsley.” Dad whips out his cologne and gives me a spritz. “I am truly proud of you for doing this.”
I stare, wondering if I misheard. “Really?”
“Yes. I know you wanted to find love, but sometimes you’ve gotta do what’s best for your future.” He meticulously checks and straightens my suit, fixing even the smallest imperfections. “Not only did you agree to marry her, but you did it the right way. You took her out on dates and got to know her before you said ‘I do.’ I believe your marriage will be stronger than you think.”
After our parents broke the news to us, and we accepted we’d be spouses a year from then, I made Sylvie my girlfriend. If we’regoing to spend the rest of our lives together, I may as well get to know who I’m tying myself down to early on.
So, with the wedding date already set, we dated. I took her out, bought her everything she wanted, and treated her as I would any other partner. The media adored our relationship, calling us “the hottest couple to hit the New Orleans streets.” I can’t lie, that was an ego boost.
“I had to step up for the Crowncrest,” I reply. “Mateo isn’t too happy, though. None of the guys are.”
Dad shakes his head sympathetically. “You boys are getting too old to be partying the way you used to, anyway. Mateo only has so long before he’s arranged to be tied down. Shawn and Ryland will find someone too.”
I would hardly call twenty too old to party. When we aren’t on a mission, one can usually find my friends and me partying until the sun comes up. I can’t count how many times we’ve come back crossed on a random Tuesday, only to wake up on Wednesday and work a job as if nothing happened.
No one ever cared as long as we didn’t fuck up the job. But you know who would care? A partner. So, the guys weren’t too thrilled when they heard the news.
