When we exit the room, half the church is on its feet. The sanctuary echoes with sound. Whispering voices, muffled laughter, the rustle of clothing. The instant we’re spotted, however, the noise dies and everyone turns to stare at us.
Quinn commands loudly, “Everybody back in your bloody seats.”
He drags me to my position, says to Declan, “Full speed ahead, mate,” then snaps his fingers at the priest, indicating he wants him to get a move on.
The priest looks at Declan for direction.
Sending an amused glance toward the astounded guests, Declan says, “Maybe we should skip the mass and get straight to the vows, Father.”
“Yer bang on,” says Kieran, chuckling. “This rowdy lot’s about to start throwin’ eggs.”
I still haven’t caught my breath when the priest says to me in a heavy Irish accent, “What’s your name, lass?”
“Reyna.”
“Lovely. Best of luck to you.”
Cradling the Bible against his chest, he looks up at the crowd and lifts a hand. He keeps it lifted until everyone has taken a seat again and the sanctuary is silent. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Homer and Reyna in the blessed sacrament of marriage.”
More than one person on both sides of the aisle whispers, “Who?”
Ignoring them, Quinn growls to the priest, “Get to the kissing part.”
He’s staring at me when he says it, wearing an expression of hunger and hot impatience, his gaze darting back and forth between my eyes and my mouth.
My hands tremble so hard, all the flowers in the bouquet quake.
The priest sighs, shaking his head. “Very well. Do you, Homer, take this woman—”
“I do.”
“Hold your horses, lad,” the priest mutters. “This isn’t a bloody race.” He exhales hard and starts again. “Do you, Homer—”
“I do.”
“—take this woman, Reyna—”
“I do.”
After pausing for another aggrieved sigh, he continues. “To be your wedded wife. To have and to hold from this day—”
Quinn interrupts vehemently, “I do. To all of it. Now get to the kissing part.”
“You can’t kiss her until she says her vows!”
“Then get on with it!”
The priest looks at the vaulted ceiling for a beat, then turns to me. “Do you, Reyna…”
That’s all I hear. After that, everything is drowned out by the high-pitched buzzing in my ears and the roar of my pulse underscoring it.
I’m sweating. Trembling. Hyperventilating so badly, I’m in danger of passing out. This must be a dream or a nightmare, some impossible fantasy world I’m trapped in where I agreed to marry a stranger to save my niece’s life.
Except Quinn’s not a stranger. Not a total stranger, anyway.
But he is the one who described this union as a “fake” marriage.
A fake marriage specifically including sex.
So we’re both here by obligation, but he’s already got an advantage. He’s gained a concession from me, but I haven’t gained anything.
Except another lifetime commitment I didn’t want.
Suddenly, I realize the sanctuary has gone dead silent.
There’s an air of expectation, like a collective held breath. I look around in panic, unsure what’s happening because I’ve been lost in my thoughts, when the priest gently prompts, “This is where you say ‘I do,’ lass.”
Panicking, I blurt, “Where’s the ring?”
A ripple of laughter goes through the crowd.
Quinn’s glower indicates he doesn’t find anything funny.
Declan reaches into the jacket of his tux. He pulls out a folded white silk pocket square. He unwraps it and hands Quinn a ring.
Quinn takes my left hand in his and slides the ring onto my finger.
It glitters there, big and bold, red and brilliant, as vivid as a drop of fresh blood.
Shocked to see the red diamond, I whisper, “You said you bought one of the pink ones.”
“I did. I returned it for this one.”
“Why?”
He gazes down into my wide eyes with the full force of his potent masculinity engulfing me.
“I decided I needed something to remind me every day that my heart can’t be trusted. What could be better than a stone the exact color of your lips?”
That makes me lightheaded. “It’s lipstick, you big dummy. Also, that makes not one iota of sense.”
He growls, “Maybe I’m lying. You’re familiar with the concept. Now say ‘I do,’ viper, and give me that goddamn mouth.”
I draw my final breath of freedom. I make a silent prayer for strength. Then, so softly it’s hardly even a breath, I say, “I do.”
Quinn knocks the bouquet out of my hands, yanks me against his body, and kisses me.
It’s hard and demanding at first. I can tell he expects me to resist or twist away, but when I wind my arms up around his shoulders and sink into him, his mouth gentles. Cradling me in his arms, he sweeps his tongue against mine, the pressure as soft as his lips are.
Within seconds, I’m lost to it.
My fingers creep into his hair. All that soft, silky golden hair. I tug on it, wanting him even closer. Wanting him to devour me with his mouth.
The low sound of pleasure that rumbles through his chest makes me shiver.
The kiss goes on and on, going from sweet to hungry and back again. I’m floating and flying and falling, all at the same time. His mouth is decadently lush. His taste, delicious. I don’t care at all that we have four hundred witnesses, or that my life is over, or that I’ve traded my freedom for Lili’s.
I’ve never been kissed like this before.
Muscles I didn’t know I had are waking up and stretching. Desire unfurls like a heated lotus under my skin. A steady pulse beats between my legs, my breasts feel heavy, and my nipples ache. I feel a wild, animalistic urge for him to throw me onto the altar, hold me down, and fuck me.
When he finally breaks away, I’m gasping and unsteady, woozy as a drunk.
My eyes drift open. I find him gazing down at me with blazing eyes, panting, his parted lips stained red with my lipstick.
He breathes in astonishment, “Fucking hell, woman.”
There’s a swell of noise. Clapping. Hooting and laughter, stomping feet. I turn my head and blink at the riotous crowd, unable to understand what’s happening because my brain is still floating somewhere in outer space.
Then Quinn’s handing me a ring. It’s an unembellished band of dark matte metal, black on the outside and gunmetal gray within.
He says, “I took the liberty of buying my own wedding ring, considering nobody asked me what I wanted. Put it on.”
Concentrating hard on maintaining consciousness, I take it with shaking hands and slide it onto his left ring finger.
He stares at it for a moment, his expression pensive as he examines it.
Then he looks up at me and grins. “I just wifed a viper.”
My laugh is faint and disbelieving. “And I just married an insect.”
“Arachnid,” he corrects, eyes sparkling.
“Excuse me. That’s much better.”
He kisses me again, grabbing my face between his big hands.
The priest lifts his voice to the congregation. “Dearly beloved, I give you Mr. and Mrs. Quinn!”
The roar from the crowd is deafening.
That’s when my knees finally give out.
Before I can hit the ground, Quinn sweeps me up into his arms and carries me off, hollering for Declan and Kieran to follow us.
To me, he says, “Take me to your brother and Lili. I need to get that sorted.”
I can’t find my words, so I point in the direction of the dressing room.
Quinn strides down the aisle with me in his arms, nodding at people in the crowd as we pass. I consider the possibility that I’ve been drugged, or that he put me into that coma he teased me about, but decide I wouldn’t feel quite so much if this were all just a hallucination.
I didn’t know my body could contain so much emotion. It must be bursting out of me, seeping from my pores, visible for everyone to see. I feel achingly alive and sick and terrified, and I long for somewhere to hide so I can think all this through to try to make sense of it.
But there’s nowhere to go.
Not now. Not ever.
If there’s one thing I know about Quinn, it’s that he’ll never let me run away and hide. He’ll be in my face, challenging me and forcing me to expose myself to him for as long as we’re together.
A little voice inside my head whispers that if things get too bad, I know how to get rid of him, but I push that aside and focus on giving directions to where I left my family in shambles before heading out to get married to the Mob.
Quinn sets me on my feet outside the door. Then he bursts into the dressing room with me, Declan, and Kieran right behind.
We startle Gianni, who’s leaning against the wall, glowering at Lili and Juan Pablo who are huddled together on the sofa. She’s wearing his brown leather jacket over my black dress.
Mamma, nodding off in a chair by the window, sits bolt upright with a snort. She sees the four of us and cackles.
“Ha! Now we’re having fun!”
“Be quiet, Mamma. Lili, Mr. Quinn wants to talk to you.”
He says, “I understand your father threatened to kill you. Tell me exactly what he said.”
Gianni looks at Declan, Kieran, and Quinn in flat-out horror. “No, no, no,” he starts to protest, but Quinn shoots him a lethal glare that makes the words shrivel up and die in his mouth.
He snaps, “When it’s your turn to talk, I’ll tell you. Now shut your piehole before I shove my fist in it.”
Gianni looks to Declan beseechingly. “Mr. O’Donnell, please let me explain—”
Declan interrupts with a hard “Guess you didn’t hear my lad tell you to shut your piehole, Caruso, but if you don’t hear me, I’ll put a bullet straight through that unibrow of yours.”
Gianni wants so badly to shout something about disrespect, but he wisely keeps it to himself. He sags against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest and seething.
Meanwhile, Juan Pablo is on his feet.
“She doesn’t have to tell nobody nothing!” he shouts, glaring at the three Irishmen. “She doesn’t take orders from you!”
I’m about to start pleading with him to be reasonable, but Quinn steps forward, holding up a hand to silence me.
He tilts his head, looking Juan Pablo up and down. He gestures to Lili, cowering behind him. His voice calm and low, Quinn says, “You’re in love with this girl?”
“Yes! And I don’t fucking care who knows it!”
“Tranquilo, amigo. Cálmate. We’re only talking.”
Clearly confused by Quinn’s gentle tone, Juan Pablo glances at me. I nod encouragingly.
Quinn looks at Lili. “And you’re in love with him?”
Tears streaming down her face because she probably thinks they’re both about to die, she says in a broken voice, “Yes. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize to me, lass,” says Quinn softly. “I’m not angry with you. The heart wants what it wants.”
Declan chuckles. “Isn’t that the bloody truth.”
“So what’s the plan? You want to marry her, or are you just fucking around?”
Juan Pablo pulls his shoulders back and lifts his chin, sending Quinn a look of defiance. “Yes, I want to marry her. She’s my life.”
Quinn nods. “Good answer. Okay, then. Take your girl and go.”
Lili cries out in happy disbelief. Juan Pablo looks around the room as if he has no idea what’s happening.
Aghast, Gianni starts to sputter. “She can’t leave with him!”
“Why not?”
“I forbid it, that’s why!”
“She doesn’t need your approval. The lass is eighteen, which makes her legally an adult. She can do whatever the fuck she likes.”
Gianni stabs his finger in Juan Pablo’s direction, shouting, “She won’t leave with this fucking wetback! I won’t allow it! No daughter of mine will be with a—”
His rant ends abruptly when Quinn spins around and punches him square in the face.
He crashes to the floor and lies there, bleeding and gasping, clutching his nose.
Glowering down at him with both hands fisted and his jaw clenched, Quinn growls, “It’s not nice to call people names.”
Controlling his anger, he smooths a hand down the front of his tux and turns back to Juan Pablo. “Lili’s in danger. Do you know about what happened last week?”
“Yes, she told me.”
“You need to get away from the East Coast. Preferably out of the country altogether, at least until we find out who was behind the attack.”
Juan Pablo nods. “I have family in Mexico.”
“Good. We’ll get you on a private flight with bodyguards and security. Once you’re there, keep a low profile. No social media posting, no talking to your friends. You’re off the grid.”
Holding his bleeding nose, Gianni stumbles to his feet, using the wall for balance. Breathing hard, his hands shaking, he looks at Juan Pablo with pure hatred in his eyes. Then he turns his vicious glare to Lili.
“If you leave with this boy, you’re dead to me. Do you understand? I’ll never speak to you again. You’ll be cut off. You won’t have a dime of my money.”
Juan Pablo snaps, “She doesn’t need your money. She’ll have mine.”
Gianni’s laugh is cold and hard. “From what, your newspaper route?”
“My family’s probably richer than yours, ese.”
“Really? Cleaning pools is a big moneymaker, eh?”
“No. But drug trafficking is.”
The air in the room goes static. Nobody says anything. The silence has a strange, dangerous weight.
Into it, Declan says quietly, “Anytime you’d like to explain that, feel free.”
“My uncle is El Mencho.”
Gianni makes a strangled noise, like a cat trying to expel a hairball. His face turns sheet white.
With lifted brows, Declan says, “Alvaro?”
Juan Pablo nods. “My father and I aren’t in the business. We don’t want nothing to do with that. But he’s family. My mother’s brother. He makes sure we don’t want for anything.”
A confused Kieran says, “Who’s Alvaro?”
“Head of the Jalisco Cartel,” answers Declan, assessing Juan Pablo with a new look in his eyes.
“Oh. We friends with them?”
“Never met them. But they’re Sinaloa’s biggest rival.”
“And Sinaloa’s our enemy,” finishes Quinn. A hint of a smile lifts his lips.
Juan Pablo says, “If you want, I’ll make an introduction.”
Declan nods. “It would be appreciated. Thank you.”
“No, thank you. You didn’t have to do this for me and Lili.” He looks at me. “You, too. I know you’re only wearing that dress to protect us.”
Gianni appears as if he’s having a stroke at hearing the news that not only has he lost control of his daughter, he’s lost out on leveraging a blood tie to the second-largest cartel in the world.
Desperate not to lose anything else, he shouts at Declan, “Our families negotiated a contract in good faith!”
Declan smiles. “And the contract stands. Christ, I love weddings.”
Quinn says, “I hope you love receptions, too. You can tell me all about it tomorrow.”
“What do you mean?”
Quinn turns his attention to me. His eyes darken and his voice takes on a husky edge. “I’ve got a date with my wife tonight.”
He licks his lips, leaving no doubt as to his intentions.
