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Well, that was naïve.
He could expect it of me, but I didn’t have to give it to him.
All week, loathing for him had burned in me like a fever. It had distracted me from the upcoming marriage, and I’d focused only on getting away from him, on getting out of the house that was my prison in Brighton Beach…and after that, when I was wed, to getting away from Eoghan. To running and starting a new life for myself.
But now?
I could dance in Father’s blood?
I tightened my hand around Eoghan’s, turned my attention to Father Doyle, who was glowering at Eoghan over something—I didn’t know what. Eoghan didn’t seem the most reverent of people. Far as I could tell, he didn’t give a damn for rules, which meant he either wanted this wedding—which I highly doubted—or someone had some power over him.
Having met my future father-in-law, I knew who that someone was.
I couldn’t blame him.
Aidan Sr. was scary, and I said that when I was a Pakhan’s daughter.
When I was the daughter of a woman who’d been slain for being married to said Pakhan…
Scary and me were friends.
But Aidan Sr.’s eyes said it all. He was insane. I wondered if his family knew it, and if they did, if they were as terrified of him as I tried not to be.
Like any predator, they distrusted fear, respected strength. The second I lowered my guard, showed Aidan Sr. I was scared, was the second he’d pounce. I just didn’t know what that might entail.
Eoghan tugged on my hand once more in the silent communication I was slowly getting used to, and I realized I had to get involved in the ceremony.
I’d read up on the Catholic ritual, so I repeated the words the priest intoned, then I headed to a pew to the side of the altar where Father Doyle began a sermon about the power of marriage and how it could bring peace to a world filled with strife.
Fitting, but I highly doubted most of the congregation knew just what kind of peace it was bringing to the city.
A truce.
Between the Bratva and the Irish Mob.
Sure, they weren’t the only players in the city. There were the Albanians, the Triads, and theFamiglia, but today’s union bound the separate brotherhoods together in a way that would reap misery on the other factions.
Even though I was kept out of the business, I knew that much.
I wasn’t an idiot, even if my family treated me like I was one because I had issues with the violent world I lived in.
“Who did it?”
His voice was like silk, whisper soft as it slid over me. I jolted in surprise because my focus had shifted when Doyle had started droning on—I knew my concussion wasn’t helping me appear lucid—and quickly shot him a look. I just realized he hadn’t let go of my hand, and his fingers tightened—not punishingly, but enough for me to feel his grasp.
“Why is it important for you to know?” I half-mouthed, not wanting to disturb the ceremony.
“It matters to me.”
I knew I was his property, knew what my father had done was essentially like giving Eoghan a backhanded slap, even if I was an unwanted bride, even if the beating was the only reason I was here today, but…
A united front, a merging of the Bratva and the Mob, would make us stronger.
Safer.
And I really didn’t want to die like my mom had.
I didn’t want to be raped by scum who hurt me just because they hated my husband.
