The Devil I Don't Know (Brooklyn Kings, #1)

by L.K. Shaw

“By the power vested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.” I steel myself for the assault. Instead, his dry lips barely ghost over mine and then he’s turning us to face the small crowd comprised of my family and the two men I assume are his. I can hear the priest speaking behind me, but I’ve blocked out the words again. My mother is crying while my father sits stoically by her side. I can’t look at my brothers and sister. My gaze, instead, locks on Grand-da. His expression is one of satisfaction. Why wouldn’t it be? He got what he wanted. He rises from his seat. “Come to my office.” He turns on his heel, expecting us all to follow. My—I swallow hard—husband places his hand on my lower back, and I flinch at his touch. I hear a heavy sigh at my side. Like a sheep being led to slaughter, I leave the music room and enter my grandfather’s lair. I stand near the desk, out of the way. I’m surprised to discover the only people who arrive behind me are my new husband and the huge, terrifying man. My grandfather scowls at his appearance. “You may leave.”

The man ignores the command and positions himself against the wall, arms crossed, with a bored expression on his face. My jaw nearly drops at the blatant disregard. “I’m afraid Pierce doesn’t take orders from anyone but me,” my husband says, drily, his voice deep and low. A vein throbs near my grandfather’s temple and his face turns the color of a ripe tomato. No one disobeys him. At least not without suffering the consequences. With a deceptive calmness he moves to his desk and picks up a pen lying on top of a piece of paper. My eyes land on it. Certificate of Marriage. “Sign.” He holds the pen up in front of me. I stand frozen, unable to move. With my signature, everything is final. There’s no undoing any of this. I can’t do it.

There’s a flash of movement and then blinding pain. Tears spring from the impact of Grand-da’s hand across my face again. On its heels is a roar of rage. I turn my head in time to see my grandfather pinned against the wall, clawing at my husband’s hand wrapped around his throat. “I don’t give a fuck how powerful you think you are. If you ever touch my wife again, I’ll slit your throat and bury your body where no one will ever find it. Do you understand?” he growls. Grand-da’s face is turning deep purple. He manages a short nod…and my husband releases him. He coughs and chokes and desperately tries ...

crane my neck to look up at him. A shadow of brutality lingers in his eyes. He reaches out, and despite myself, I flinch…again. He merely picks up the pen my grandfather dropped and holds it out to me. “Our marriage is a business arrangement, so I understand your being opposed to it. Neither of us wants this, but one thing I can promise is that I will never lay hands on you in anger.” I shiver at his gruff tone. Wait. If he doesn’t want to be married to me either, then why did he do it? My eyes travel over his shoulder to latch onto my grandfather, who’s still rubbing his neck and glaring at me. Next they move to t...

body, as though he’s waiting to dive into action and defend his boss. At last, I turn my gaze back to my husband who’s still holding the pen in his hand. I take him in again. His dark hair is swept back off his forehead, his eyebrows a sharp slash over eyes that bore into me. A chill dashes across me at their intensity, and I could almost lose myself staring into them. They’re the color of my father’s favorite cognac. Despite the ferocity he displayed only moments ago, they seem almost gentle now. In a move that surprises me, I reach out and take the pen. Our hands brush. Before I change my mind, I...

Goosebumps travel up my arm. Confused over my reaction, I hastily take a step back while my husband—Emilio—signs his name next to mine. He rolls up the certificate and tucks it into the inner pocket of his suit. It’s final. I’ve signed my life over to a stranger. A man who, only moments ago, showed me how brutal he i...

Jacob The faintest scent of the ocean floats in on the wind. It reminds me of my mother. Of the trips we used to take to Coney Island during the summer when I was a kid. Where, for a brief few hours, I could ignore my destiny. The same destiny I’ve been running from the past seven years. My self-imposed exile isn’t going to last forever. Sooner, rather than

later, la famiglia responsibilities will call me home. Long before I’m ready. I rest my forearms on the railing of the second floor deck of my estate and stare out across the vast expanse, down into the valley where the small town of Pinegrove, North Carolina lays. The harsh spring breeze penetrates the layers of my suit and undershirt to skate across my skin, and I breathe in the salt-tinged air. It’s quiet here. No horns honking. No police sirens. Just nature. A throat clears behind me. I briefly close my eyes, inhale one last lungful of cool, salty air, and then release it. Only one person would intrude upon my solitude. I turn to face six-and-a-half feet of solid muscle. The hell-fire red eyes of the skull tattoo covering his entire throat glare out at me from between his open shirt collar. Pierce is an intimidating fucker on a normal day. Today, his expression is grimmer than usual. “You have a phone call.” “Take a message.” He shakes his head. “It’s Sal.” It would seem sooner just arrived. Calmly, I head inside and take a seat at my solid cherry wood desk. Pierce positions himself against the wall, arms crossed, waiting. Unable to avoid my fate any longer, I let out a breath before picking up the phone. “Hello, Father.” “The time has come for you to return home.” Is that fatigue and pain in his voice? “I think you and Uncle Paulie are handling things just fine without me.” “Emilio—Jacob—I’m dying.”

The air in my lungs freezes at his statement. At the name. Not once, in thirty-six years, has my father ever called me Jacob, even though it’s what my mother called me, to his great dismay. To hear it from his lips now? It’s a plea. And Salvatore Ricci didn’t become head of the Brooklyn syndicate by begging for anything. “How long?” “The doctors say three to six months, depending on treatment.” “Does anyone else know?” If the news got out that my father is sick, there’s no telling what our enemies would attempt. “Only Paulie.” He pauses. “For now.” Paulie Lasco. My adopted uncle, and my father’s consigliere for the past thirty years. I close my eyes and count to ten before opening them again. “Pierce and I will be on the next flight to New York.” The man against the wall straightens at hearing his name. “Paulie will meet you at the airport. He’ll fill you in on things before you get here.” “Yes, sir.” “And Emilio…I’ll be happy to see you.” I open my mouth and then close it. I pause a moment before opening it agai...

“I’ll have Agnes come and clean up.” Pierce steps toward the door to call in my housekeeper. “No,” I bark. “I’ll take care of it.” He pivots back to me. “What’s going on, Jacob? Aside from the fact that we’re heading back to New York.” There’s not a soul on this planet I trust more than the man standing across the room. He chose to exile himself with me seven years ago. Right after we slaughtered the enemy who hurt Francesca. He’s been my best friend our entire lives. “My father is d...

He blows out a ragged breath and runs his hand down his face. “Christ. I can’t believe it. I thought Sal would outlive us all. How long’s he got?” “No more than six months.” The implications that come with my father’s death are widespread. Civil war between the families. A contract on my life. Our enemies will band together to destroy everything my grandfather built. Pierce has stayed in constant contact with Paulie over the years. With the exception of my father’s illness, he no doubt knows more about the current state of our organization in Brooklyn than I do. He’s fa...

“You know there will be those who challenge your right to take your father’s place.” There is no doubt in my mind. A few would like nothing better than to usurp my position. Especially given my long absence. “They can try, but they will fail.” I may not want the role thrust upon me at birth, but with my father’s death on the horizon, it’s mine nonetheless, and I will kill anyone who tries to take it from me. “They’re going to want you to prove your loyalty. Not only to your father, but to the whole syndicate. You’ve been gone a long time. Things have changed....

on our flight back to the city. Uncle Paulie’s meeting us at the airport.” Pierce rises from his chair. “I’ll call the pilot and let him know when to expect us. I’ll have the car ready in an hour.” I nod absently. I rest my forearms on my desk and turn them over to stare at the palms of my hands. Hands that are covered in blood. Her blood. I still see her body lying in the middle of the bed. Pale. Cold. The red sheets that, only hours earlier, had shone a bright white. I clench my fists as though I can wring the blood out of them. Like usual, it d...

my desk. Then I stride through the house and enter my bedroom. My private domain. I drape my garment bag across the bed and lay several suits inside. Methodically, I pack my toiletries. I open the top dresser drawer and push aside the perfectly folded undershirts. In the darkest recesses my fingers latch onto a small velvet pouch. With careful movements, I tug the string and tip the bag on its side. Out slides a nearly empty bottle of women’s perfume. I bring it to my nose and inhale, pulling in the scent of lilacs. I bought this bottle for her birthday eight years ago. It’s the only thing of her I have left. I deposit it back inside t...

out the front door to the waiting town car. My emotions are volatile, and he senses it. I stand there a moment, and then I follow him outside. I have responsibilities and a dynasty I can no longer ignore. * * * Less than two hours later, the private jet skids across the runway before slowing to a snail’s pace. It creeps toward the row of hangars lining its perimeter and the black town car waiting there. Two figures stand outside the vehicle. The aircraft comes to a jerky halt. One of the men steps forwar...

“You as well.” “Come, we’ll talk in the car. Your father is anxious to see you.” Once we’re all settled in the vehicle, Paulie reaches into the dry bar. He pours each of us a drink before leaning back against his seat. “I assume Pierce has caught you up on the current state of things.” “Yes. I never thought I’d see the day that Salvatore Ricci would form a tentative alliance with the Irish. Especially Colm Donnelly.” The head of the Irish mob has always been a ruthless bastard. Rumor has it he had one of his own sons killed. “The Russians have become a...

message to those who think they can come in and take what isn’t theirs.” Still, it is a risky move. The Irishman is cold, calculating, and unpredictable. I don’t think much has changed in the time I’ve been gone from New York. Even the slightest perceived betrayal could unravel an alliance. “What happens if Donnelly decides an alliance is no longer to his advantage?” Paulie and Pierce exchange a knowing glance. One I...

“Grand-da wants to see you in his office.” I jerk my head up from the book propped against my knees and narrow my eyes at my twin brother, Paddy, standing in the doorway of the library. He knows better than to interrupt me while I’m reading. Then it strikes me what he said. Grand-da never wants to see me. Hell, even if he looked

straight at me, he wouldn’t see me. I am invisible. “I’ll be there in a minute.” “Now, he said. He’s in a mood, too.” With an annoyed sigh, I pick up the cloth bookmark my younger sister, Caitlín, had made for me, and tuck it in between the pages. Then, I drop to my feet from my perch in the padded window seat that overlooks the small garden my mother likes to keep. “Why are you following me?” I ask Paddy, who is almost stepping on my heels. “I was told specifically to escort you there.” It takes everything I have not to roll my eyes. I’m sure the instructions weren’t that specific. We reach the door to our grandfather’s sanctuary, and I stop in front of it,

hesitant now that I’m here. What does he want with me? “Go on,” Paddy nudges my shoulder. I smack at his hand in irritation and bare my teeth at him. Inhaling a deep breath, I reach out, turn the doorknob, and let myself in. Seated behind the behemoth oak desk is my grandfather, Colm Donnelly, patriarch of one of the most powerful families in the Irish mob. He’s a fearsome looking man despite his full head of white hair. His presence fills the room even sitting. “You wished to see me, sir?” He glances up and assesses me with a stony glare. I stand ramrod straight under his critical stare. H...

“Sit down.” I try not to flinch at the sharp command. Warily, I perch on the edge of the gold embroidered wing back chair on this side of his desk, my hands clenched tightly in my lap. Grand-da steeples his fingers under his chin. “Emilio Ricci is returning to Brooklyn,” he pauses as though this should mean something to me. “In two weeks, you will marry him.” I blink, my brain slow to process what he just said. “What?” “His father and I have come to an agreement. In an effort to strengthen our forces against the R...

With a placid calmness, Grand-da rises from his chair and circles around to stand in front of me. My head snaps to the left, and a stinging pain shatters the side of my face. Tears burn my eyes, and I taste blood on my tongue. I cover my cheek and stare up at him in shock and fear. He actually hit me. His face is impassive as he looks down at me without a care. “You will do your duty to this family. The contract is already signed.” He returns to his seat and his eyes land on me, a brow raised as though questioning why I’m still here. Despite the pain, I clench my teeth, and with as much dignity as I possess, I stand and stare at him, but his attention is already back to the papers on his desk. An obvious dismissal. My cheek burns like fire. I know my grandfather is ruthless, but I’ve never experienced it first-hand before. My mother has always tried to shield Caitlín and me from the life our family leads. With a stiff spine, I walk out of his office in search of my mother, hoping Paddy isn’t in the hallway waiting for me. I breathe a sigh of relief to find it empty. Does Mother know what I’m being forced to do? Does Da? Are they going along with this lunacy? I’ve never met this ...

before. I’m the quiet daughter. The dutiful one. But this? “I can’t do it,” I say aloud. “Do what?” My mother asks, her voice rising in exasperation on the last word. “Marry Emilio Ricci.” Behind me is a gasp, and my father lowers his arms with a heavy sigh. “I knew he’d been speaking to Salvatore Ricci. I should have realized something like this would happen.” “I won’t do it,” I repeat. My father’s expression twists into anger, and I take a hasty step backward, colliding with my mother, my heart galloping with fear in my chest. I’ve never been afrai...

He jabs his finger in my direction. “You will do your duty to this family.” Da glares one final time at me and then storms down the hallway, leaving me alone with Mother. My body sags as some of the tension flows out of it. My eyes burn. That single word beats like a drum in my head. Duty. Duty. Duty. “Come.” My mother guides me to the couch. She sits and pats the cushion next to her. Slowly, I lower myself, and she turns to face me. Her hands are warm arou...

“You remind me so much of myself at your age. Struggling to find my place in this world. Especially being a member of a family such as ours.” “Mother—” “Shh. Let me finish. This life we live, it’s not easy. It’s brutal. Violent. And often unfair. Did you know your father and I had an arranged marriage?” I draw back in shock. “But—but you and Da seem so happy.” “Now, but we weren’t always.” “I hate this. Everything is always about duty,” I sneer the last. My mother nods matter-of-factly. “Yes, it is. Duty to the family—the organization—...

“I don’t even know anything about this Emilio Ricci. Yet I’m expected to marry him because Grand-da signed a contract?” “Yes. What happens after that is what you make of it. Be a good wife. A good mother. Affection can grow between you and your husband. It will just take work and time.” “What if I...

Jacob Our driver, Giovanni, pulls to a stop in front of the house on 83rd. I step out of the town car and stare up at the three-story white concrete home my father had built nearly fifteen years ago. The place hasn’t changed while I’ve been gone. The same dull brown trim borders each of the windows that still shine and reflect the green of the

leaves on the tree in a grass-covered lawn that’s often difficult to find in Brooklyn. The sun is setting behind the house, and its halo of light dances along the rooftop. Giovanni lifts each of our bags out of the trunk and passes them to Pierce while I take a moment to inhale the crisp, late afternoon air. Instead of the fresh, clean scent of Pinegrove, I almost choke on the acrid odor of vehicle emissions, the nearby food market, and the ever-present New York garbage. None have been missed. It’s time I get used to them again though. Uncle Paulie and Pierce flank me. The former’s restlessness is palpable. Neither of them answered my question in the town car. They both deferred and said it’s a discussion that needs my father’s presence. The

man who currently waits inside. The man I haven’t seen in seven years. The man who’s dying. Pierce hands me my luggage. I take the steps two at a time and pause at the polycarbonate glass layered door. Do I knock? Walk in, even though I am almost a stranger now? The door opens as if by magic, taking the choice from me. “You must be Emilio,” an unfamiliar woman with short silver hair greets me with a pleasant smile. “I’m Marta. Please, come in.” She steps back and opens the door fully. The woman isn’t dressed like a maid. In fact, she’s wea...

“I know you’re probably tired after your trip, but your father would like to speak with you first. He’s in his office. I’ll have Franco take your bags to your rooms.” Of course he would. Everything with my father is duty. Soon, it will be for me as well. I set my bags near Pierce. The leather soles of my shoes slap across the marble floor of the entryway as I pad up the stairs to the second floor where my father’s office is located. My footsteps slow the closer I get. Responsibility weighs heavily on me. Stopping before the wooden door, I close my eyes for a brief second, and then knock. “En...

hair combed back, and sharp, piercing black eyes. This man is gaunt. His tailored suit nearly hangs off his frame. And his eyes have dulled and appear almost lifeless. “Hello, Father.” “Emilio.” This is not the larger-than-life king from my childhood. The one who rules an entire syndicate. I stand, awkwardly, unsure how to greet this new man. We’ve never been close, but seeing him as he’s become, a handshake seems impersonal, a hug too intimate. As with my decision at the front door, the choice is taken from me. My father strides forward, closing the distance between us, and envelops me in his arms. The familiar scent of cigar and his expensive aftershave surrounds me. He seems so frail. Uncomfortable with the gesture, I step back and clear my throat, unable to meet his eye. “Please, have a seat. I won’t keep you long. I’m sure you’d like to rest.” Being back in this house, in this room, is surreal. It’s tangibly different. Perhaps because I’m different. I stare at my father. He is the most changed of all. “I believe Paulie and Pierce have caught you up on our current state of affairs?” “Yes.” I try to relax back into the leath...

soon control this syndicate and all that it entails. Don’t forget that.” I nod in acknowledgment. “How are you going to assure Donnelly that a continued alliance between us will remain to his advantage?” My father doesn’t immediately answer. Instead he reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a single sheet of paper. My gut clenches and my heart begins a heavy beat inside my chest. “I know the reasons you left seven years ago. Just as you know that she was never going to be a part of this life.” My already tense body tightens ...

from biting my tongue. Damn my father for bringing her up. “As my son, and the future leader of this syndicate, it’s imperative that you prove your loyalty. Not only to me, but to all the families within our organization.” “I’ve been nothing but loyal,” I bite out between my teeth. My father nods, but a question of uncertainty remains in his eyes. He slides the sheet of paper across the desktop and meets my stare, daring me to look away. “Colm Donnelly and I have come to an agreement. The contract is signed. In order to solidify an alliance between our famil...

to be the first test of my loyalty. “How does she feel about this marriage?” “Does it matter?” He raises his brows. “She knows her duty.” As though I don’t. I rise from my chair, needing to get out of here before I say or do something I’ll regret. “If there’s nothing else that needs my attention, I’ll go get settled.” I don’t wait for a reply as I make my escape. “Emilio.” My father’s voice stops me at the door, my back still to him. “It’s good to have you home.” All I can respo...

As I stride through the house, I can’t help but look around. Everything is familiar, yet not. Already I’m about to jump out of my skin, and I’ve only been in this place for an hour. My collar is tight around my neck, and it takes all I have not to tug at it. Staying here is temporary. First thing tomorrow I’ll find a townhouse, since it appears I’m acquiring a wife. I reach the top of the stairs at the same time Pierce steps out of an open doorway. Without a word, he follows me through a set of double doors at the end of the hall. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve stayed in these rooms. Before I left all those year...

there again. Not with all the little reminders of her. “Is there anything else you haven’t shared with me?” I lean my forearms against the window, staring out at the city, the lights glowing brighter with the disappearance of the sun. “It wasn’t my place to tell you.” My fists clench against the chilled glass, and I rein in the urge to punch through it. “You’re more than just my cousin, Pierce. You’re my best friend. My brother. The one person I trust not to withhold things from me. I’d kill for you. Bleed for you.” Slowly, I pivot to face hi...

He pulls out his phone and hands it to me. “Her name is Brenna. She’s Donnelly’s oldest granddaughter. Three brothers, including a twin, and a younger sister. Graduated from Columbia two years ago.” I study the picture on the screen before returning the device to him. “Any man in her life?” Pierce shakes his head. “None, unless he’s extremely well-hidden.” I turn back toward the window, my gaze unseeing. “She’s not what you’re used to, but she’s certainly pretty enough.” It doesn’t matter what she looks lik...

knows of anything for sale in the area. Something suitable for a wife,” I instruct, signaling the end of our conversation. Pierce nods. “I’ll let you know.” With that, he disappears out the door, leaving me with only my thoughts. I pity this poor girl—Brenna. My only hope is that she has no dreams of romance and love. No illusions about what this marriage will be. It’s nothing m...

It’s no doubt childish, but I lock myself in my room for two days. Caitlín brings me dinner the first night, but I send her away with the untouched plate. I can’t even think about food; my stomach is queasy enough as it is. My mother knocks on my door several times throughout the day, but I ignore her. By the second night, I sneak down after

everyone’s gone to bed and raid the fridge, because I’m starving. Then I return to my room and sulk. I try reading the book I started, but I can’t concentrate. All I can do is think about my future. I’m barely twenty-four years old. I’ve never really even had a boyfriend, and now I’m expected to marry this…stranger, because Grand-da has decreed it. Perhaps I’m naive about our world, but if so, I blame my parents. They never told me that I could be married off to someone against my wishes. They’re the ones who’ve sheltered us, Caitlín and me. Who’ve refused to answer my questions on nights my father and brothers would come home covered in blood. My mother’s words come back to me. How am I expected to be a good wife to a man I know nothing about? I’m not entirely ignorant about our family and the crimes they’re involved in. What I don’t understand is how it all works. I’m not sure I want to. My thoughts shift to my future husband. It’s the fear of the unknown that bothers me the most. The knock on my door startles me. With a heavy sigh, I answer it. Caitlín comes bounding in. She whirls on me, her strawberry blonde hair swinging over her shoulder. She’s nothing like I was at fifteen. I almost envy the bold confidence she already displays. With hands on hips and eyes narrowed, she stares. “Here I thought I was the dramatic one in the family. It’s about time you opened the damn door.”

“Don’t swear,” I admonish as I make my bed, straightening the corners and smoothing the fabric. “What are you, ten? Damn is not swearing.” She collapses with a groan onto the teal chaise and picks up the book I’d been reading to examine the cover before tossing it back down on the cushion. “Now, if I’d said, ‘It’s about time you opened the fucking door,’ then I’d be swearing.” I toss a pillow at her, and she catches it with a cheeky grin. “You’re incorrigible.” “Yes, I know.” She throws the pillow back at me, an...

I freeze for a second. Caitlín can’t mean what I think she means. “What kind of dress shopping?” I ask, slowly turning to face her. My sister’s excitement is palpable from here. “For your wedding dress. I can’t wait to see how beautiful you’re going to look. Although I still can’t figure out why you locked yourself in your room. If I ...

There’s a churning sensation in my belly, and I send her a weak smile, not wanting to put a damper on her mood. “Why wouldn’t I be?” She jumps up and pulls her leg underneath her, nearly bouncing with energy. Of course she’s giddy. She’s not the one being sold off to someone she doesn’t even know. I choke back the bitterness. It’s not Caitlín’s fault. Then her expression flattens, and she settles down to glare at me. “Wait a minute. You answered my question with a question. You only do that when you’re ...

anyway. Instead, I paste on my most sincere smile. “It’s nothing. I’m just being silly. Nerves, you know. It’s not every day a girl gets married. I’m sure we’re going to have so much fun shopping.” Caitlín rolls her eyes. “I’m fifteen, not five. I can smell bullshit from a mile away. You still didn’t answer my question. Are you not happy?” I study her. This young woman before me is almost someone I’ve never seen before. Where did my little sister go? It’s as though she’s grown up and some...

She seems puzzled. “What do you mean, what did she tell me? She said that…oh, what’s his name?” Her nose scrunches and she waves her arm at me. “Emilio?” “Yes,” she says triumphantly. “That Emilio asked you to marry him, and you said yes. Although, I will say, I’m a bit put out with you for not telling me about him. I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend.” I laugh humorlessly. Of course our mother wouldn’t tell her the raw, ugly truth. With that knowledge, I can’t either. Despite Caitlín’s aura of matur...

of our family might entail. Who am I to be the one to destroy whatever innocence she has left? I’m no better than my mother. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about him.” I join her on the chaise and pull her hand in mine. “I am happy. I’m also really nervous. Typical bridal jitters. Will I be a good wife? What if his family doesn’t like me?” “How can they not? You’re immensely likable,” she says with all seriousness. At my side eye glance, she bursts into laughter, and I join her. “I’m not sure everyone agrees with yo...

I do the only thing I can. I look her straight in the eye…and lie. “I swear.” The burning need to fill my lungs grows, but I hold my breath, praying my sister believes me. “Fine.” Thankfully, she starts chattering again, her previous concern seeming to vanish. “Have you thought about what kind of dress you’re going to get? Don’t get one with all those ruffles and frills. They won’t suit. You need something elegant. Classy. I can’t wait to see Emilio’s face when you walk down the aisle. He won’t know what hit him.” As I stare at my sist...

pretty dresses and boys. I can’t imagine it happening, though. Despite my insistence that I’m happy about this marriage, the truth will come out eventually. My heart cracks at the thought. A noise at the door causes Caitlín and me to jerk our heads in that direction. My mother stands in the doorway, and I rise. My heart aches a little more at the hesitant smile she sends my way. There’s a new tension between us that’s never been there before. It won’t leave though. Not now. Not...

For Caitlín’s benefit, I maintain the smile on my face. “It would seem we’re going dress shopping.” Caitlin jumps up and dances around the room excitedly. “I, for one, can’t wait. Oh, do you think they serve champagne while you’re trying them on? I saw that on one of those reality shows. You get a glass of bubbly and little chocolates.” I’m unable to contain my laughter at the sight of my sister gushing. “Even if they do, runt, you’re too young to be drinking.” I hip bump her and she fake stumbles a few ste...

My mother rolls her eyes. “Go get your jacket and meet us by the front door. I need to speak with your sister for a moment.” Caitlin dashes out the door with the same energy she’d arrived with. Makes me wish I could turn back the clock to before Grand-da signed any contract. Find some way to try and alter the future. In the end, I have no doubt that we would still arrive at this same moment in time, where I’m still engaged to a stranger. I turn and face my mother. “I’m glad you didn’t tell Caitlín the truth.” She sighs. “I’m sure I’v...