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“You’ve lost your fucking mind.”
He charges to his feet, his eyes wild with a deadly cocktail of anger and fear. “You owe us. You’re the reason my sister is dead. You’re the fucking catalyst for all of this. If you hadn’t driven her to her own demise, I never would have killed Daniel, and none of this would have ever happened.”
He can’t seriously think I’m going to agree to this.
I swore to myself that I would never marry again. Hell, I swore I would never touch another woman for more than a quick fuck, and only when I was truly desperate.
Marriage is off the fucking table.
“No way. It’s not happening. Marry her off to one of the Hayes boys. At least they’re close to her age!” I do the math of how old she was the last time I saw her, eight or nine I think, meaning she’s barely an adult. As if marrying my niece wouldn’t be bad enough, but add a twenty-year age gap to the equation and it becomes all the more fucked up.
“That will make her more of a target. They’ve been at war for years and I can’t risk it. I can’t risk my little girl.” His voice cracks, and for the first time, I look him over. He’s tired. In fact,it doesn’t look like he’s slept in a week. The black marks beneath his eyes are darker than I can ever remember seeing them, and his wrinkled clothes look like they’ve been worn for days.
I don’t have children, never wanted a brat running around getting into all my shit. But I suppose I can see why he’s stressed, I just don’t know that I’m the best person to help him.
“I can get her a passport, a new identity. I have cash. I can help set her up with a new life in another country where she’ll be safe,” I offer.
The Saint James family pays me really fucking well, but I don’t spend it. I don’t have expensive hobbies, I don’t go out and socialize, and the only expense I really have is my apartment.
I had to move last year because my building was getting knocked down to make way for a new mall, and I moved into a nicer apartment in the heart of the city so I could get to callouts quicker.
He shakes his head. “I’ve already thought of that. But I can’t send her out of the country alone. She’s only ever left the damn state a few times, another country isn’t an option.”
I run my hands down my face and reach for the vodka.
He knows damn well he has me backed into a corner.
Their whole family blames me for Clarissa’s death, so why on earth would he trust me with his only child?
CHAPTER FOUR
ISLA
“Your uncle?” Bree screeches into the phone.
She was still unconscious when we dropped her off at her parents’ house, and her mother looked none too happy about that fact.
The two of us have been going out every weekend for months, but it’s rare for either of us to get to the level that she did last night, and I’m not totally convinced she wasn’t slipped something. It’s so rare in fact, that up until last night, neither of our parents had any evidence we were going out at all. Sure they had their suspicions, just no hard proof. But that ruse is over now, along with my life apparently.
“Yep.” I fall back against my pillows. I wish I could make it sound less messed up, but the reality is, this entire situation is fucked. My dad has lost his goddamn mind and I have no idea how to make him see just how insane he’s being.
I have no idea how he even came to this conclusion that marrying me off to a man he despises, a man he has blamed for the downfall of our family for the last decade years, was the best course of action.
But the problem is, this doesn’t seem like a spur-of-the-moment decision.
It doesn’t even seem like he’s that panicked about the prospect.
He genuinely thinks this is the best idea, and that’s probably the most worrying part.
I don’t really remember Doc. He was such an infrequent part of my life, even when he was a part of it. He’d only be home for a few weeks before he was off again, so I never really had a bond with him. I probably couldn’t even tell you what he looks like to be honest.
And yet I’m supposed to marry him?
Absolutely not.
“Does he know you’re meant to be marrying him?” Bree asks, tearing me from my own thoughts.
“I don’t think so.” I shake my head.
