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1
SAOIRSE
The sunlight coming through the airplane window glints off of my ring, reminding me of last night. Of what I’m headed back to. The new life ahead of me.
Last night had been raucous and fun—for everyone except Connor and I, which is ironic considering the party was meant to celebrate us. For all their hesitance about coming to Boston, his men had seemed ready to embrace the new adventure last night as they’d partied into the wee hours, drinking and singing and telling loud, dirty jokes about what they’d do and who they’d fuck once they were in a new city.
Connor, on the other hand, had been irritable and quiet, staying at a table near the wall nursing a beer and shoving off anyone who tried to drag him into the festivities, even his friend Jacob. I tried to enjoy the party, talking with Jacob and attempting to have a good time after the argument outside with Connor and Niall. I’d hardly gotten to enjoy my betrothal the first time, I wanted this time to be different. I wanted to soak up the warmth of that English pub and the taste of beer on my tongue and the laughter around me, but it hadn’t taken long for Connor’s black mood to infect me too.
He’s only using you, to try and save Liam’s place.
I’d meant it when I said I wouldn’t break my vow to Connor. There’s no chance I’ll back out of this, not for anyone or anything. I’ve made up my mind, and I plan to stay the course.
But I’m also not going to let him run me over, or change what we agreed to.
A marriage of duty and convenience. An heir. And after that, the freedom to do as we both please—for me, the freedom to experience all the things I’ve given up in the service of my father’s single-minded goal to bind the O’Sullivans and McGregors more tightly together.
With the flight well on its way, I slip my phone out to text my best friend back in Boston, Margaret.
We’d bonded at college over a shared love of history and the fact that my middle name was the same as her first, after being assigned to the same group project. We’d become fast friends, despite her confusion over some of my choices—namely, to go along with my father’s plans to arrange my marriage.
She’s not from the world I live in, though. Her parents work normal jobs—her father works at the post office and her mother owns a bakery. She went to Harvard on a scholarship, and she’s a high school teacher now. There’s nothing remotely dangerous or conniving or political about her life, and I think that’s probably part of why I attached myself to her so quickly.
My friendship with Maggie is the only normal part of my life. She’s my only friend that isn’t tied back to the mob in some way. And I cherish that.
I’m on my way back home,I text her quickly. And then, after that,I’m going to need to make an appointment at a bridal salon as soon as I’m back. I’ll need a dress ASAP.
Another girl might have texted back in a flurry of all caps and emojis, thrilled to hear the news, but Maggie knows the truth of why I went to London. She doesn’t knoweverything, I’m careful to keep her in the dark about some things for her own safety, but she knows that the marriage with Connor is a business arrangement, that it has to do with the Kings—and she also knows he was meant to be my fiancé years ago, before he left and abandoned everyone.
She also knows what Liam did, which means she’s none too thrilled about the fact that I’m now being passed back to his brother.
I can’t blame her. I’d feel the same if our positions were switched—I think. It’s hard to know for certain. I’ve been raised in this my whole life—it feels natural to me. I can’t imagine living her life. But I think I would feel the same.
So I take it you’re engaged now?Her message comes in a second later, as curt and to the point as I imagined it would be, but it doesn’t upset me. If anything, it feels like a relief—like one normal thing in the midst of all of this. My best friend responded exactly as I expected her to.
I am. I take a photo of my ring, sending it back to her with the message, a performative dance between friends. I’m engaged. Look at my ring. I should be excited. Pretend to be excited with me—except for me, Maggie is the one person I can be honest with about all of this.
I’m relieved the first part is over, and that Connor and I are engaged, and headed back to Boston. I’m glad things worked out as they were meant to. But I’m notexcitedto marry him.
In fact, the only part I’m anticipating is the one part that I’m supposed to not care about.
The wedding night.
I glance up from my phone to steal a look at Connor, who is two rows down sitting next to my father, the two of them discussing something quietly—almost certainly something to do with their plans for setting up Connor’s future takeover of the Kings. Up until now, my father told me what was going on, but it’s clear that now that my “part” in the plotting is done, I’m on the outs. My input, as far as the men are concerned, isn’t needed any longer.
I’m not going to have that.I grit my teeth in frustration, watching them. Just like I told Connor, I have my own plans for the money and influence that his takeover will bring. And I intend to make the other mob wives part of that—Caterina, and Sofia too despite her friendship with Ana.
I’m going to carve out my own part in this dynasty I’m helping to create. My own legacy.
It’s a gorgeous ring. Did he pick it out?
Maggie’s message pings on my phone, and I glance at my diamond and sapphire ring again, a small thrill running down my spine at the memory of the afternoon Connor showed it to me the first time. The things we did on that beach—
In the space of less than two weeks, Connor opened up an entire world of sensuality and sensation that I never imagined existed.
And then he made me promise we’d forget about it.
Right before kissing me like he couldn’t breathe without me all over again.
