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We’d gotten tipsy enough that I’d been able to laugh off my nerves and the residual lust from Dev’s hands on my body, the six of us curled up on the couches in the living room. It wasn’t until after lunch that we left the house, climbing into our cars to meet at the venue.
That’s when I’d expected the chaos to begin. Another attempt on my life by one of the makeup artists my wedding planner had hired. A bomb threat called on the historic Catholic church my father had pulled strings to get us married in.
It was one of the largest, most prominent Catholic churches in the city, and I was sure there was a wait list longer than two weeks to get married here. I wasn’t sure what had happened tothe couple that had likely booked this church months ago, but I imagined they’d be going on a very nice honeymoon.
I wouldn’t have even been surprised if things had devolved because of something more mundane, like a pipe leaking and flooding the church. The ancient building had been around since the city was first founded, and the pipes were likely just as old. I was surprised they hadn’t frozen, the gray stone unable to prevent the winter cold from seeping into the walls. At the very least, I expected poor weather, pulling the reception indoors and frizzing my hair.
But everything was perfect, the late January afternoon sunny and clear, balmy and cool rather than the freezing temperatures we’d seen over the past couple of weeks. Not a hair was out of place, my auburn mane tamed into soft waves that reached down my back. My dress had been altered to perfection, fitting like a glove and exaggerating the minimal curves I had. Even the forest green bridesmaid dresses we’d ordered online a week ago fit both Ames’s curves and Wren’s petite frame beautifully, our frenzied tape-measuring in Ames’s kitchen having paid off.
Bex - who Dev had assigned as extra security as soon as she was dressed in her suit - had been useless. Not because of her inability to protect me, but because there wasn’t anything to protect me from. I didn’t even catch a chill, the thin material of my dress keeping me warm better than it had any right to.
The wedding, which had seemed like some half-formed, far-off event, suddenly felt real as I stood in my dress with my hair and makeup done. It didn’t feel half-formed as the girls stood around me in their outfits, Ames and Wren holding their bouquets along with mine. It didn’t feel far-off when the clock struck the hour, and my wedding planner ushered us down the hallway, the thick carpet muffling our footsteps as we made our way toward Alex, who stood next to the doors that separated my past from my future.
It seemed well-organized and fast-approaching as each of my newly inherited friends disappeared through the doors in pairs. It felt almost sudden when Cormac came up behind me, offering his elbow for me to wrap my hand around, his presence an anchor as we waited for my cue to walk.
And I felt something akin to panic as I stood waiting for my cue, until Cormac’s familiar voice rung out between us.
“I met Dev years ago,” Cormac told me conversationally, as I tried not to choke on the remaining air in my lungs, the idea thatI was getting marriedfinally hitting in full force. “Back when he and Xander first started out.”
“Really?” I gasped out, unsure why I was surprised. Cormac had worked at my father’s side long before I came along, and Dev and Alex were only a couple of years older than me.
“Yeah. Your dad hired them to do a security upgrade after he fired our previous guy, thanks to some flaws in his work that Xander had pointed out.”
I snorted, recalling the story Dev had told me about when Alex - or Xander, which he’d gone by at the time - had first met my father. Now that I knew him, it didn’t surprise me that Alex had stood up to a high-ranking member of the mob and insulted his employee’s work.
“What were they like?” I asked, pushing the words out quickly as I heard the wedding party’s entrance music wind down in preparation for the wedding march.
“Xander was…Xander. He came right in, took charge, was clearly meant for this lifestyle, to do this kind of work. But Dev, he came in on that first day, smiling, joking, making friends with a few of us as he walked us through some flaws in our security. I thought he was a joke.”
My stomach dropped at Cormac’s assessment, the insult like a blow to my own honor. I opened my mouth to protest, but Cormac beat me to it, squeezing my hand as he continued, “Ithought he was putting on some front, that he was acting like a clown because he didn’t know what to do. But he did. He was great at his job; serious when he needed to be, even intimidating when necessary, knowledgeable for his age. And every time he came by, he was the same, laughing and smiling. And I realized…he was just a nice guy. Agoodguy.”
“He is,” I whispered, jumping when the wedding march started and we got into position behind the heavy oak doors.
As they opened, Cormac whispered down to me, “You don’t need my blessing. But I want you to know that I would’ve fought your father if he’d tried to marry you to anyone less worthy of you.”
And then he was pulling me down the aisle, the feeling of over a hundred pairs of eyes on us enough to have me pushing down the sudden tears threatening at the backs of my eyes. I kept my chin high, my smile brittle as I tried to match my strides to the music without tripping over my feet. I refused to show any weakness in front of this crowd, all of them looking too closely at who they thought was the child of Cillian’s right-hand man.
My eyes finally met Dev’s, his grin enough to ease the anxiety that had slowly been wrapping tighter around my ribcage. My matching smile felt less brittle than it had before, and I took the first full breath I had in hours, knowing I’d get through the rest of the day with Dev by my side. Compared to murdering my assassin in broad daylight and then semi-kidnapping me to his best friend’s house, our wedding would be a piece of cake.
A few steps later and I was at the altar, being passed to Dev and listening as the priest began to speak about the importance of marriage. We stood alone, the priest having stepped a few feet to the side to speak into the microphone attached to his pulpit. It allowed us a false sense of privacy, the eyes of over a hundred of my father’s and Cormac’s closest friends and business associates watching as Dev’s thumbs ran over my skin.
I tried - and failed - to suppress a shiver at his touch. My attempt at trying to squash the blush as it rose to my cheeks failed as well, the physiological response second-nature in Dev’s presence. I was one of Pavlov’s dogs, only instead of drooling in the presence of food, I blushed whenever Dev’s attention landed on me.
He only grinned down at me in response, whispering as the priest droned on, “Last chance to run. Once he finishes, you’re stuck with me for life.”
I knew it was a joke, a way to lighten the seriousness of our situation. But it felt like an insult, a punch right to the soft underbelly of my insecurity, the one weakness I had so much trouble hiding, especially as his thumb absently rubbed the ring on my right hand. The wedding ring my mother had left when she’d abandoned me and my father. A physical reminder of how little marriage meant, if she was able to leave it behind so easily.
His words reminded me of the looks my father occasionally gave me as I got older, when I continued to distance myself from his business instead of embracing my birthright. When I moved out of the compound to pursue some independence; or at least, as much independence as I could while staying safe under my father’s watch. As if the distance was an excuse to abandon the only family I had. As if disloyalty ran in my veins, lying latent in my DNA, and would someday cause me to run from my family, my responsibilities.
So it felt especially jarring to hear the doubt from Dev’s lips, even if he’d wrapped the words in a joke. Especially when I’d spent two weeks trying to convince myself to put more distance between us, when every ounce of my being was telling me to crawl on my hands and knees andbegDev to never leave. For him to feel the same chemistry I had from the first day we met, that had only deepened as I’d gotten to know him these pastcouple of weeks. It hurt the most after this morning, as if I’d let Dev get close just to leave him.
“I’m not my mother, and I’m not fucking leaving.” Dev raised his eyebrows at the vehemence in my tone, and I realized how close I’d stepped toward him in my anger.
The priest interrupted, preventing me from saying anything more, starting in on the wedding vows. Dev whispered them to me almost intimately, uncaring if those in the back pews couldn’t hear, keeping his eyes on mine as he promised to care for me for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health.
“In this life and every one after,” he finished, smiling softly as he changed the classictil death do us part. It felt like a challenge, a reminder that I could still back out if I wanted, before I made the same promise in return.
So to prove him wrong, to prove beyond any doubt that I wouldn’t leave like my mother before me, I doubled down, tilting my chin higher as I made the same promises, to stand by his side through the hard times and the good.
