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Sean was the youngest of the boys and two years older than me. We had always been close. “Tell me what?”
“It’s nothing. Like I said, I fell.”
“Patrick?” I asked. “Tell me what’s going on.”
It was Colin who spoke up. Brown hair and the same green eyes we all shared, he pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Donovan set his men on Sean. He’s sending us a message.”
My stomach contracted. “B-because I didn’t say yes to Cormac. He did this to you because of me?” My heart sank. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry Sean.”
“This is not your fault,” he said. “Cormac and his father are assholes.”
“We need to call the police.” I felt the world crashing down upon me.
Patrick stood up. “We can’t. If the police get involved, they’ll find out about the money laundering, and we’ll all go to jail.”
“So he’ll keep hurting us until he gets what he wants, and I marry Cormac.”
“You’re not marrying him,” Sean said, gritting his teeth.
I looked over at Patrick, but I could already see the resignation in his eyes. He knew as well as I did that there was no other choice. The Sullivans had won, and I was the grand prize.
ChapterSeventeen
KEIR
Ilooked at the manila envelope in front of me, rolling up my shirt sleeves. It had been two weeks since I had seen or spoken to Evie. My last moment with her was seeing her safely in her car when we landed in LA. We agreed there would be no contact. Bilderberg was two weeks away, and instead of preparing for it, I found myself thinking of her.
There would be no escaping it.
I opened the envelope and pulled out the document.Certified Copy of an Entry of Marriagewas written across the top. Now the question was, how would I tell her the paperwork was never stopped. Sir Leonard had acted more quickly than me. We were officially and legally married.
Bloody fucking hell
I rubbed my forehead. This was an absolute mess.
The intercom on my office phone buzzed. “Mr. Wilson, there is a gentleman here to see you.”
“Send him away. I have no appointments scheduled,” I snapped. A real marriage changed everything. I would need to contact Alan immediately.
The door to my office was thrown open.
“What the fuck do you want?” I yelled.
Aidan O’Donnell stood in the doorway.
“We need to talk,” he said, pacing the room.
“We don’t need to do anything. Make an appointment. I’m busy.”
“Sorry, Mr. Wilson,” my receptionist Valerie said, stumbling in behind Aidan. Worry creased her forehead.
God damn it.
“It’s fine. I’ll see him.” I slammed the document down on my desk. “Close the door behind you.” I looked over at Aidan. He looked unkempt. Like he hadn’t slept for days. “What do you want?”
“I want to know what the fuck you did to me that night. There’s something fucking inside me.” He ran his hand through his shaggy brown hair.
“Ask Sir Leonard.” I didn’t have time for this. At the moment I had much bigger problems.
