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“You’re about to find out,” she said, stepping onto one of the penthouse floors.

“You live here?” I asked when she opened the door to a larger room than the one we’d just been in.

“Yeah, I help run shit when Daddy’s home in New York.” She kicked off her heels, and I followed her through the place until we ended up in the kitchen.

“You need a drink,” she stated, then handed me a glass. “Whiskey okay?”

“Anything will do at this point,” I admitted.

She poured until the cup was half full. “We need to discuss our plans, Liam.”

“Of course, whatever you need.” I shot down the amber liquid, welcoming the burn.

“I want out of the family business, and you’re going to be my ticket,” she said. Her words came out so casually as if she’d thought about this for years.

“Okay…” I lingered, keeping my gaze on her.

“I get my trust fund when I turn thirty, but I don’t want to wait nine more years to get it. The only way I can have it before then is if I get married,” she explained. “We get hitched, I get my money and freedom to leave.”

She sauntered closer. “And?” I prompted.

“And you get to live.”

It also meant my debt was forgiven and Maddie would be safe.

I swallowed. “For how long?”

The corner of her lips twisted up. “It has to be believable so Daddy doesn’t go back on his word and come after you or take my trust fund. It’ll take some time before he’ll sign it over, so…a year.”

“That’s too long,” I blurted out. “Six months,” I countered.

Victoria smirked as she poured more whiskey into my glass. “Six months,” she agreed. “But Liam…” She pierced me with her savage green eyes. “There are terms you will follow, or I’ll make sure Daddy comes after you and anyone you care about.”

I knew the moment her words came out that Johnny was no longer my threat. This was now Victoria’s game, and she wasn’t going to allow me or anything get in the way of what she wanted.

* * *

Our conversation from that day replays in my mind as we drive to Victoria’s penthouse. It was only a week ago, but it feels like forever. This is my only option, but it’s going to hurt everyone I love. I’d tell my roommates the truth, but knowing her dad will keep his eyes on me means I can’t risk it. The only person I’ve told the truth to is Tyler, who waited anxiously for hours in the lobby of the Bellagio. When I was able to sneak away to Victoria’s bathroom, I quickly sent a text letting him know I was still alive and that I’d explain everything when I returned home. Even replaying the events to him had me shaking my head at how crazy it all sounded, but it was nice to have one person who could have my back. He swore to help in any way he could, but I feared there wasn’t anything anyone could do now. Johnny has no reason to suspect him, and since Tyler’s aware of my involvement, I know he’s loyal.

He knew the O’Learys were crazy fuckers, but he was shocked by Victoria’s marriage proposition and wanting to get out of the family business. I’ll keep him updated as much as I can, but reminded him to stay away from them at all costs. If Johnny found out this was total bullshit, he’d kill me along with everyone who’s ever meant something to me. I can’t deny the fact that his people could easily hide our bodies and we’d never be discovered. No one would ever know what happened, and it’d be another cold case added to the pile.

Johnny isn’t a man I would intentionally cross or wish upon my worst fucking enemy.

So eventually I’ll have to tell my friends that Victoria and I eloped.

I won’t be able to tell them why or that it’s totally fucking fake and that we just have to keep up with appearances—me visiting when her dad is in town and even taking her home to meet everyone in California. We have to play the part of the happy newlyweds who are completely in love with hand-holding, kissing, and other lovey-dovey shit I don’t ever do. If Johnny thinks we’ve lied and duped him, everything and everyone is at risk all over again.

That’s not something I can do.

“Your tux is in the master bedroom,” Victoria singsongs. “Take a shower and clean up. Daddy will be here in two hours.”

“Great,” I mutter, taking my duffel bag with me. Her mother lives and stays in New York, playing the role of perfect mobster’s wife by attending galas and donating thousands of dollars to charities. Victoria told her not to bother coming because we’d make a trip out there to visit—to perpetuate the lie further.

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