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Aida who is starting to get sleepy.
Aida who is heartily regretting annoying the Griffins, if only because I’m going to be trapped here until the end of time while Fergus and Papa talk and talk and talk forever . . .
And then finally, almost three hours later, the two patriarchs come out of the private dining room, both looking somber and resigned.
“Well?” Dante says.
“It’s settled,” Papa replies.
He sounds like a judge pronouncing a sentence. I don’t like his tone one bit, or the expression on his face. He’s looking at me mournfully.
As we head outside, he says to Nero, “Take my car back. I’m going to drive home with Aida.”
Nero nods and gets in Papa’s Mercedes. Dante climbs into the driver’s side of the SUV, and Papa gets in the back with me.
I definitely don’t like this at all.
I turn to face him, not bothering with my seatbelt.
“What is it?” I say. “What did you decide?”
“You’re going to marry Callum Griffin in two weeks,” Papa says.
This is so ridiculous that I actually laugh—a weird, barking sound that fades away in the silent car.
Papa is watching me, the lines on his face more deeply engraved than ever. His eyes look completely black in the dim light inside the car.
“You can’t be serious,” I say.
“I am absolutely serious. This is not up for debate. It’s settled with the Griffins.”
“I’m not getting married!” I say. “Especially not to that psychopath.”
I look to the driver’s seat for Dante’s support. He’s staring straight forward at the road, hands clenched on the steering wheel.
My father looks exhausted.
“This feud has been going on too long,” he says. “It’s an ember that smolders and smolders and continually bursts into flame, burning down everything we’ve worked for. The last time we had an eruption, you lost two of your uncles. Our family is smaller than it should be, because of the Griffins. The same is true for them. Too many people lost on both sides, down through the generations. It’s time for that to change. It’s time for the opposite to happen. We will align together. We will p
rosper together.”
“Why do I have to get married for that to happen?” I shout. “That won’t help anything! Because I’m going to murder that bastard the moment I see him!”
“You’ll do as you’re told!” my father snaps. I can see that his patience is at an end. It’s 3:00 in the morning. He’s tired, and he looks old. He is old, really. He was forty-eight when he had me. He’s nearly seventy now.
“I’ve spoiled you,” he says, fixing me with those black eyes. “Let you run wild. You’ve never had to face the consequences of your actions. Now you will. You lit the match that started this particular blaze. It’s you who will have to put it out again. Not by violence, but by your own sacrifice. You’ll marry Callum Griffin. You’ll bear the children that will be the next generation of our mutual lineage. That is the agreement. And you will uphold it.”
This is some kind of fucking nightmare.
I’m getting married?
I’m having fucking babies?!
And I’m supposed to do it with the man I hate worse than anyone on this planet?
“He crippled Sebastian!” I shout, my last-ditch effort to express how utterly revolting this man is to me.
“That’s as much on your head as his,” Papa says coldly.
