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Avirginbride. That’s exactly what she’s saying without saying it. She doesn’t have to spell it out, even though I kind of want to hear all the details. I don’t ask. I watch as she leans back in the chair across from me, her eyes focused on mine.
“When you join our family, I wish for you to realize that it’s forever. There is no way out of this.”
“And if I want to run?” I ask.
Her eyes widen, and she watches me for a moment before she speaks. She clears her throat, then leans back in her chair slightly. I’m surprised she’s not writing in a notebook, but she isn’t.
“You are free to do as you wish before you take your vows.”
“But after?” I ask.
She smirks. “There is no way out, so you must make the best of the life you have. Which means creating the life you wish.”
Create the life you wish.
I’m not sure that’s possible.
The life I want doesn’t involve belonging to another human being to pay off the debt my parents selfishly created. The life I want allows for freedom. It doesn’t involve ownership of another human being.
COLEMAN
Something causes me to pause.
Turning my head, I look behind me. There isn’t anyone there, not that I thought there would be. I can’t remember the last time I was nervous about anything, but that’s exactly how I’m feeling right now—nervous.
Anxious.
The wedding is happening in the next couple of days. That must be what it is. My bride is going to see me for the first time and know who I am. She’s going to recognize me. She’s going to either run or marry me.
She’ll probably try to run, but I won’t let her. Not fucking ever. And if she slips through my fingers by some freak mishap, I will bring her back. Every single time.
She is mine.
Shaking my head, I walk into my condo building and take the elevator up to my floor. When the doors open, my body jerks at the sight in front of me. My cousin is standing next to my door. Uncle Dean’s oldest son.
Fuck.
“Junior,” I grunt as I move toward him, digging my keys out of my pocket.
He doesn’t speak immediately but instead waits for me to open my condo door and follows me inside. “Close that,” I call out as I make my way to the kitchen bar and toss my keys in the middle of the island.
I try not to pay much attention to him, as if this is a normal occurrence, him being here. Instead, I move around the kitchen, gathering a couple of glasses, some whiskey, and then ice. All of which I do without looking him in the eye.
When I’ve filled both the glasses, I pick them up and carry them around the island bar and toward him. Extending one, I jerk my chin, and he does the same, wrapping his fingers around the glass.
We both take a drink. “Want to sit in the living room or on the balcony?” I ask.
Junior’s gaze flicks from the doors that lead to the balcony, then shifts toward the couch. “Living room,” he murmurs as he moves toward the couch.
I watch as he sinks down in the corner, lifting his glass to his lips and silently taking a drink. He’s nervous. Too nervous. Junior has the same training as I do. He’s either pretending to be nervous, or he’s so worried about what’s coming that he’s let his guard down. I’m assuming it’s the first because my father has beaten these things into our heads—men of the family do not let their guards down.
Every single thing we say and do is with purpose.
“You came to me,” I point out as I sink down in the chair that sits catty-corner to the sofa, my attention focused on my cousin.
He jerks his chin, lifting it slightly and keeping it there as he looks down his nose at me. I don’t know what the fuck to say or why he’s here, so I wait. He lifts his glass to his lips again and takes a drink, then lowers it and holds it in his lap with his other hand.
“I did,” he says.
