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Me: Who is Conner Reid?
Pippa: Hello, random.
Me: Don’t have time. I need details, now!
Pippa: Shit, now you got me worried. I think he’s one of the Irish thugs—runs a gambling club, I think. Let me check. Brb
I threw the phone on my bed and rummaged through my closet.
What was I supposed to wear to meet my potential fiancé? Did I want to look good or scare him away? What would my father do if I chose the latter?
A chill skated down my spine and settled into a solid arctic mass in my gut.
I definitely didn’t want to find out the answer to that question. Anything sexy was off the table. I was already being pimped out; I didn’t want to look any cheaper than I already felt. Options limited, I chose a forest green sheath dress that bordered on professional, then freshened up my hair and makeup just in time for my phone to ding.
Pippa: Remember a while back when a man was found in East Harlem burned alive?
Me: Yeah?
Pippa: Rumor was Reid was behind it. Thought I remembered the name. Why the hell are you asking?
Oh shit.
Newscasters had called it the most grizzly murder in decades. No one had ever been charged with the crime, but it had been all over the television for weeks. I had still been reeling over my own mother’s death and hadn’t paid much attention to what had happened. Now, I wished I had.
Me: He may be my new fiancé.
I knew she would be rabid for more details, but I didn’t have time. The doorbell had already chimed in the distance.
Time to see what my fate held in store.
I took yet another deep breath and forced back a rancid bouquet of nausea from blossoming in my stomach. My heels clicking on the wood floors announced my approach. When I rounded the corner, all three men stood. My father. My brother. And the man from the coffee shop two days earlier.
My lungs seized, frozen with shock, and my legs refused to budge an inch.
Suddenly, the puzzle pieces began to slide into place.
That was how he’d known who I was. Why he didn’t question my silence, and why Umberto had been furious to see him. The man was a deadly rival. A beautiful monster slated to be my new husband.
Dad began to give introductions, spurring me back into motion, but my ears were ringing too loudly to make out his words. I walked mechanically to the chair beside Conner, which he helped me into before seating himself. I stared straight ahead, unable to meet his eyes. Those mesmerizing cobalt eyes that had ensnared me the second I walked into the room.
Thiswas the man I was going to marry.
The man who had beat Umberto into a bloody pulp in a few swift strikes. The man whose dominating persona had clung to me long after he’d left the room and who’d admitted outright that he wasn’t remotely civilized.
What a beautiful disaster.
Him. My life. Our impending marriage.
I couldn’t bear to think about any of it. Fortunately, my brain didn’t seem to function around him anyway. His presence filled the room, pressing on the walls and chasing out the air, making it hard to breathe.
I’d never been more glad that no words were expected of me.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Noemi. Can I get you some wine?” Conner asked coolly, as though this were his house, and I was the guest. I imagined he was at home anywhere he deigned to be because he deemed it so. His presence was so commanding that I wasn’t sure the winds of a hurricane would dare stir a hair on his head for fear of his wrath.
I nodded.
My gaze snagged on the black ink staining the back of his left hand. I hadn’t noticed it at the coffee shop. A rose. It extended up beneath the cuff of his expensive suit, and I couldn’t help but wonder how much of the body beneath was similarly marked.
