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“Again, not a kid,” I counter. “And no, not even a little.”
That gets a real laugh out of him, and damn if it isn’t the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. “You’ve got a lot of attitude for a girl who just turned twenty,” he says, passing the bourbon to me. His hand lingers on mine just a little longer than necessary, and the jolt of electricity that shoots through me is enough to make me gasp. I suddenly realize how close he’s gotten, and the wave of temptation that crashes down on me is almost unbearable.
I’ve barely even had a chance todate, let alone to do something wildly irresponsible while I still have my freedom.
The man’s gaze is on my lips, hunger in his silver eyes, and I feel like I’m drowning in it. How easy would it be to kiss him? To let this stranger lead me away and forget about all the expectations and bullshit responsibilities that have been thrust on me?
Something crosses the man’s face then, something dark and unreadable behind the desire. But I don’t wait to try to figure out what it is; the booze is working on me, and Callie will be here soon. So I do something I never thought I would do.
I lean forward and press my lips to his. The stranger tenses, as if willing himself to pull away, but then he leans into it, his mouth warm against mine, his strong hand cupping the back of my neck as he kisses me back hungrily. His tongue pushes between my lips, his fingers tightening in my hair as desire surges through me... but then he’s pulling back suddenly, that inscrutable look back on his face as he gets abruptly to his feet. There’s longing in his gray eyes, but it’s overshadowed by something else, like he’s just now realizing what he’s been doing.
“Enjoy the drink, kid,” he says gruffly, just as the bartender sets the second whiskey down in front of me. Then he’s disappearing into the crowd without another word, leaving me to stare after him, dumbfounded and confused.
It’s not until after Callie shows up that I realize I never got his name.
ChapterOne
One year later
Most girls are excited on their wedding days. They burst into tears in their gowns, hold hands with their families and bridesmaids, and toss their bouquets—but it doesn’t seem like they ever get into the whole ‘oh my god, I’m going to be a married woman in less than twelve hours’ thing.
Me? That’s all I can think about as I pace back and forth in the grass outside the venue, a botanic garden by the river that Dad personally rented out for the wedding. Just beyond the winding cobblestone path, more than a hundred of London’s top organized crime figures and their families are seated and waiting for the ceremony to start. They understand as well as anyone how momentous this alliance is: if this goes through, it will forever upset London’s current power structure—both legitimate and illegitimate. They’re not the only ones, either. A few politicians, in the pockets of one or both sides, are also in attendance, doing their best to play the middle. They’ve all come to make sure they end up on the right side of this new arrangement.
Even now, as I stand out here in my wedding dress, I can feel the eyes of the nearby guards, who are constantly scanning the crowds for trouble. Even with them here, however, there’s still no guarantee some upstart won’t try to pull something stupid.
And I’m here shitting bricks.
“Hey.” Callie gives my arm a squeeze. She looks stunning in her dress, her red hair piled high on her head. I was hoping she would be a bridesmaid, but not even my protests were enough to sway my parents. It’s probably for the best, since she’s still blissfully unaware of just how illegal this whole operation is. “You’re going to do great,” she assures me. “It’s just nerves.”
I give a hysterical laugh. “Or maybe I’m just in the early stages of suffocation,” I say, glancing down at the excruciatingly tight bodice of my wedding dress. It’s a delicate ballgown, with tulle and seed pearls sewn all over it to give it an antique-looking sheen. No expense spared, of course.
Callie grins. “It’s not too late to bail, you know.”
“If only that were true,” I mutter, stealing a glance over my shoulder at my father, who’s waiting to escort me down the aisle. His hair, graying at the temples, is immaculately groomed, his hands clasped behind his back as his bodyguard, Rhys, paces a short distance behind.
Not for the first time since that night at the bar, my mind drifts back to the stranger who left me reeling in his wake. I can’t help but cling to the memory as the band strikes up the wedding march, to the fleeting connection I felt when we kissed… even if I still can’t identify the reasonwhy. But then Violet, the maid of honor, is starting down the cobblestone pathway, and that’s when I know shit’s getting real. Callie gives me a last, reassuring smile before falling in with the line of groomsmen, disappearing between the hedges as I move to my place by my father. “This is it,” I say breathlessly, not sure if I’m talking to myself or to him.
Dad glances at me, a proud—and somewhat self-satisfied—smile on his face. Our relationship has always been complicated, but it’s clear he’s genuinely happy. Only time will tell if it’s because he’s walking his daughter down the aisle or because he’s about to become a patriarch of one of the world’s most powerful crime syndicates. “You look beautiful, sweetheart,” he tells me as I take his arm. “I’m proud of you.”
“Really?” I ask, looking up at him.
“Really,” he replies.
I’m not sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. “It feels a bit like a business transaction,” I dare to admit as the last of the bridal party starts down the path.
“Vivian,” Dad replies, looking away from me, “in our world,everythingis a business transaction. Now let’s go.”
Any fantasy I might have had of arguing, of making a last-minute break for it, evaporates as we start down the aisle. It’s not just that my father is a ruthless mob boss who’s about to drop me into a den of wolves. It’s that, despite his criminal activities, he still loves his family, me included. And that somehow makes this all even harder.
There’s a sea of guests on either side of the altar, and all their eyes are on me as we drift toward the gazebo where my future husband waits. Lucas is looking impeccable. He’s always had a flair for the flashy and expensive, and even from a distance I can tell he’s spent a fortune on his clothes for the occasion—all the way down to the hand-crafted holster where he keeps his sidearm. He grins as I approach, a dark, domineering smile that carries little warmth. In his black eyes, I can see the crime lord he’s destined to become… assuming his father, the notorious Vincent Emmerico, decides to pass him the reins of his empire.
Lucas doesn’t say anything as I take my place across from him, no words of reassurance or wisecracks or anything else to ease the tension I’m feeling. He just does what he’s done on all of our other so-called “dates” (more like business meetings than anything else): he looks me up and down, like I’m a piece of furniture he’s debating whether to buy or chuck in the bin. Then he gives a satisfied nod, grabs my hands robotically, and turns to the officiant, who clears his throat.
“Thank you all for being here today,” the minister says, scanning the crowd of unfamiliar faces. “This is truly a momentous occasion: a marriage not just of two people, but of two families, brought together by the bonds of love...”
Right,I think bitterly.Love.
The ceremony goes down without a hitch, but I barely hear the words the minister says or the ursine laughter that erupts from the crowd. Everyone in the “family” is here, and if I were smart, I would just accept it all like the good little mafia princess that I am. This is how most of the people in this world get married; love rarely ever factors into it. I’m just doing my duty.
