Page 320 of Romeo

“When she’s ready to fuckin’ hear it.”

King turned his head toward me. “Romeo.”

I finally looked at him.

“Not fuckin’ now, Montclair.”

His jaw tightened, but I didn’t give him time to start whatever argument he’d brought over here. I understood why he wanted Fiona told. I knew exactly what Sylvia St. James represented and how dangerous ignorance could become if Fiona didn’t know enough to recognize a threat.

None of that changed what today had already asked of her.

“It’s my goddamn weddin’ day.” I kept my voice low enough that it stayed between us despite the music. “Yesterday, she walked out of work and some motherfucker tried to rape her. I took her away from everythin’ she knows because leavin’ her in Rosewood felt like puttin’ her back in reach of another bastard I’d already failed to stop once. Then I find out the danger ain’t finished because there’s a woman out there who’ll come after her for a name Fiona doesn’t even know belongs to her. A name that isn’t even hers.”

King’s expression hardened at that, but he stayed quiet.

I looked back toward the dance floor. Fiona had Charlie tucked against her shoulder now, whispering something that made him grin before she lowered him to chase the other kids. For the first time since I pulled into that parking lot, there was no fear in her face.

“She told me about Charlie this mornin’ because she was terrified I’d look at her different when I knew,” I continued. “Then she married me while half of Rosewood stood around decidin’ which one of you got to kill me first. She’s had enough shit thrown at her in twenty-four hours to bury most people. Look at her now.”

King did.

Fiona was laughing at something Cameron shouted while Charlie danced beside her with absolutely no rhythm.

“She’s happy,” I said. “Let her fuckin’ have it.”

King took a drink from his beer, his eyes staying on Fiona. I could see the argument still sitting there. He was president of the Sons of Hell, and Fiona belonged to his people in every way that mattered long before any of us knew she had blood ties to the Silver Shadows too. Protection wasn’t something men like King set aside easily.

Neither was I asking him to.

“One night,” I told him. “Tomorrow, I’ll tell her what she needs to know. Tonight she gets to be my wife without findin’ out her entire goddamn identity is different from what she believed yesterday.”

His gaze shifted back to me. “You understand Sylvia won’t care that you’re on your honeymoon.”

“We ain’t goin’ on a honeymoon.”

“That supposed to make me feel better?”

“No. Just correctin’ the record.”

The corner of his mouth almost moved.

Almost.

“She needs enough information to understand why everybody will be watching her,” he said.

“And she’ll get it. Tomorrow.”

King studied me for several seconds, probably weighing whether he wanted to push. Whatever he saw made him take another swallow of beer instead.

“Fine.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That easy?”

“Don’t mistake me letting her enjoy her wedding for agreeing with your bullshit.”

“There he is.”

His eyes narrowed.