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We finished our shower together, levity and familiarity warming my chilled body from within. This was the life I had always dreamed of.
“Jamie, I have to go out this afternoon. I’m going to Detroit with Matt so we can talk to the Amatos about the marriage.” Liam said while we got dressed.
“What marriage? I thought it was canceled.”
“It’s not, actually. Matt will be marrying Francesca instead of me. That was his plan.”
“Oh my God. You didn’t tell me that. Why would he do that?”
“Well, for several reasons, in fact. Besides helping me dodge that bullet, I actually think he likes her. He will have to get married soon either way if he wants to completely take over my grandfather's position. It’s kind of a requirement for the seat.”
“And did she agree to these changes?”
“She doesn’t know yet. Matt asked Don Amato if he could tell her himself and give her a proper engagement ring. I’m going for brotherly support and to back him up if shit hits the fan. Will you be fine here alone?”
“Of course. Maybe Alison can come over for some girl time.” I smiled, thinking about how much I missed my best friend.
“Sounds like the perfect plan.”
Chapter 39
Liam
“You nervous, Big Bro?” I teased Matt, patting him on the shoulder.
I hadn’t heard a sound coming out of him since we set foot in the jet. There was nothing on his face giving away his uneasiness, no body language betraying him, but his silence spoke volumes to me.
Detroit was only a short flight away, and even though the jet was ours, Matt refrained from smoking inside. It was clear how much he needed his damn fix right now in the way his fingers wrapped and extended around the tumbler of Macallan he held in his left hand.
“No.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Matt. You’ve been quiet since we left for the strip.” He could hide behind his mask of placid, unfazed serenity, but I knew him too well to be fooled. “It will be okay.”
“Yeah, right.” He scoffed, a huff of cynical laughter leaving his chest on an impulse, swallowed down by the shot of whiskey as a cleanser. “We’re not leaving Detroit without a fight, Liam.”
“A fight? What are you not telling me? Wasn’t this set with The Commission?” His warning tone and serious expression had me worried now. I had come with the idea that we were welcomed.
“Yes, a fucking fight.” He grunted, turning to face me for the first time. “We read this whole situation wrong, Liam. Francesca didn’t want to marry into our family in the slightest. We pegged her for a status digger, but we got it wrong.”
I couldn’t say I knew Francesca, but from the small interaction we had before AD’s party, it was clear that she wasn’t there on her own free will. She liked the whole deal just as much as I did, which was the same as saying not one fucking bit.
I couldn’t even begin to imagine what her reaction would be to these sudden changes. She was still unaware that her fiancé was now a four-inch-taller man with a constant broody mood and an unmatched thirst for blood and power. Francesca still thought she was marrying me.
“You’re nervous your future wife will reject you?” I held back on the mockery, knowing I was treading on uncharted territory here, and I didn’t want to pull a string I shouldn’t.
Matt got what he wanted, come Hell or high water, and never had he worried about how he got it. Seeing him squirm because of a potential impending fight with Francesca was a statement itself on what ran under his curated surface.
“She’s not going to reject me. She has no fucking choice but to follow through.” Matt’s tone was laced with tension and finality, but it was as fake as the calm façade he put on for the masses in times of war. Today, contrary to ever, there was a crack there, the reality under his thick skin slipping right through the crevice.
“But something tells me you don’t want her to just follow through.”
Matt had asked Don Amato to be the one to tell Francesca about the new arrangement. He had picked out an engagement ring himself, not holding back in the slightest. The fuck-knows-how-many carat ring was currently sitting in a neat box in the inside pocket of his suit jacket, probably poking into his ribs every time he moved.
“I don’t know where you’re trying to go with this conversation, Liam, but I don’t care for it. So drop it.”
“You might not want to talk about it, but I know there’s something more than a sweet deal to you behind this marriage. You wouldn’t have bothered to buy a damn ring and fly to Detroit to tell her yourself if you didn’t care for her.”
“She’ll be my wife. Forever is a long time to hold a grudge. I’m just trying to shorten the sentence, nothing else.”
