Page 9 of Black Wedding

I looked over at Liam, his eyebrows are drawn together like he’s doing a very complex math solution. My eyes ask him what he wants to do, but he still looks confused. I know he is probably weighing up how much he can trust a family who has lied and deceived him. But that was my father. Gramps is a man of honour and if he promises to protect us, then he means it. Liam nods, just slightly, and I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“Send us the address. I will have my tech expert adjust the security settings and then we will move in once he has made it safe. Is that okay?” Liam asks, attempting to compromise with my Grandfather, which I dare say is not something he is used to.

“Absolutely. Let me just say this one thing, Liam. If you hurt my Bree, I will kill you,” he growls as he threatens Liam for the second time. Liam releases a little chuckle before staring straight at me. I almost shy away under his penetrating stare.

“Noted, Sir. But can I just say, in the short amount of time I have known your granddaughter, I can already assure you that she doesn’t need anyone to make threats on her behalf. She is more than capable of kicking my ass when I deserve it,” Liam says cheerfully down the phone, giving me a wink at the same time.

Fuck, did I just get butterflies in my tummy over a guy that kidnapped me? Was it because of that cocky little wink, or because he is the first guy I have ever known who sees the real me and believes in me? The more Liam looks at me with those gorgeous green eyes, and that cocky smirk, the more I know I’m fucked.

After spending what feels like forever on the phone with Kellan, my tech expert and best friend, he reassures me that he has assessed and upgraded Paddy O’Keenan house, so that it now runs on his security, not theirs. He did confirm that there was nothing he found suspicious, and it did look like the old man was honest when he said he had no intention of hurting us. He clearly idolises Bree, and it’s hard not to.

We have been in my hidden apartment for over twenty-four hours, and I have mostly just been leaving her to herself. I gave her the bedroom, after tying her up I figured it was time to at least show her a little kindness. She comes out to eat with me, or to chill out and watch a movie, but we never really talk. I keep finding myself staring at this beautiful woman walking around in my t-shirts, and wondering what the hell is going on in her brain.

As she walks she carries herself with this easy confidence, and she looks like the ruler she wants to be. Then she catches me looking and she quickly lowers her eyes and blushes, almost like she is embarrassed. Maybe she is. Either way, if I am going to marry this girl, and be involved with this crazy family, then I need to get to know her a hell of a lot better first. I need to make sure she is worth swapping one ridiculous family for another.

Once I had word from Kellan that I was free to move into the old man’s estate, I shouted to Bree to let her know we could leave.

“Oh, before I forget, do you need us to go home so you can pick anything up?” I ask her as we are getting ready to leave. I have a large bag full of my clothes and other things, then I have a bag for any work I may need to do.

“No chance. My father will shoot you on sight, whether Gramps has rescinded his kill order or not. I have some clothes at Gramps’ house, and I texted asking him to arrange a credit card and new phone for me. So, I should have everything I need waiting for me, but thanks,” she said, that slight blush tinting her pale, red cheeks.

“Did you really just say you texted your grandfather and asked for a new credit card and he just sent you one?” I scoff. I knew there were people who lived like that, I just didn’t think Bree would be like that. I mean, when I first kidnapped her, I saw her as a little mafia princess, but now I know she is so much more than that.

“It’s just for things like food. If I access the money in my bank, my father will trace it. Yet, if I spend Gramps’ money he will have the records protected. I always keep a record and pay him back. He goes mad about it, says it’s normal for a grandfather to spoil his favourite grandchild.” She laughs and it literally tingles through my ears right down to my cock. How does the sound of just her laughing do that to me?

“I hadn’t expected you to say you pay him back,” I answer honestly and she shrugs her shoulders, almost like she hears that answer all the time.

“I said I will try, he doesn’t always accept. Don’t judge me before you get to know me because if you do this thing will never work. How about we make a deal? For the next two months, we just get to know each other, like we would do if we were dating almost. Then a week before we are due to meet with Gramps and make the final decision, we will talk about if we are capable of doing this. So no hard stuff until then. Just the ‘getting to know you’ bit?” she asks, looking up at me through her long lashes. It’s not a bad idea.

“So, nothing you wouldn’t talk about for the first month of dating. That kind of thing?” I reply.

“Exactly.” A smile creeps across her gorgeous face as I start to nervously chuckle. She looks confused by my anxiety and her eyebrows raise in question.

“I would find it easier to tell you that I kill people for a living and come from a messed up Irish crime Family, rather than tell you about some of the girls I’ve seen in the past.” Now her smile returns and as she lightly giggles along with me, I realise her laughter is exactly what I want to hear.

“Well, I’m keen to hear about all the ways you met your past women. I’m hoping kidnap and ransom isn’t something you use for everyone,” she jokes, and honestly, I’m not sure she really wants to know the answer. I cock my eyebrow, silently asking if this is really where we are starting with the hard topics.

“Maybe we should at least get unpacked first?” I ask and this time she full-on laughs and agrees. She looks so much younger and freer when she laughs. She doesn’t appear as serious as I have come to expect from her in just the last day or so. I know she is trying to make it in a very male dominated world which is not going to be an easy feat, she is going to have to come across as a hard faced bitch. But I’m really pleased to know she can turn that persona on and off.

Before I even realise what she is doing, she drops the bag she is carrying. It’s only got some random bits of food and household things we decided to bring until we could shop for the rest. She insisted on carrying something and moaned like crazy when I gave her the lightest item. I couldn’t exactly give her the case full of weapons that weighed a tonne. As soon as the bag hits the floor she takes the weapons bag off me and places it on the floor, and takes hold of my hand. She starts walking into the main area of the house, pulling me along after her, our fingers laced together and I have no choice but to drop the rest of the suitcases to follow her.

From the second our hands touched, I felt almost like the opposite of an electric shock, and I say opposite because rather than me wanting to recoil and pull away from the sensation her hand causes against mine, I want to pull it close. The tingle against my palm spreads over my entire body and I feel it in my nerve endings, heat chasing through my veins. It also seems to have a direct line with my cock because I feel myself straining against my jeans, begging to be freed. If she wasn’t pulling me to follow her, I think my cock would be leading the way and ensuring we follow wherever she wants to go.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been with girls in the past. In fact, I’ve been with a few more than I should have, but it comes along with the lifestyle. I travelled to different cities, scoping out my targets, sometimes for months at a time. In that time, I was able to become whoever I wanted to be and fuck wherever I wanted, to detract from the job I was there to do. I don’t say that because I don’t like my job as I do. What I hate is that I was never given a choice. Most kids are encouraged to experiment, think about all the different avenues they could explore and all the different things they could become. Not me. I was raised to be an assassin. I was forced into this world. My family decided what skills they needed and I had no choice but to become what they needed. I may work for myself now, but for years I was given no choice. I had to work for my father, until I was brave enough to risk everything and leave.

I was eight when I saw my first kill, and I learnt to turn off my emotions pretty quickly after that. I’m not your typical hitman who is usually sadistic, who doesn’t have any idea about emotions, and lives for the kill. That’s not me. I kill because it’s what I’m good at, and it’s all I know, but I have morals. I choose which jobs I take on, and I never kill anyone that I don’t think deserves it. I make it quick, never one to torture. I am not someone who typically likes to cause pain in any aspect of my life. Yet, if the need called for it, to protect what is important to me, I would stop at nothing to bring the person responsible down, painfully. My mind instantly flashes to this alluring girl in front of me who is leading me into the biggest kitchen I have ever seen with the most dazzling smile on her face. I would burn the world down to destroy anyone who hurts her.

As she takes me on a tour of the house, I am in awe of the amazing place. I expect to see her grandfather’s things everywhere, but there is nothing. Every room we go to seems to be even bigger and better than the last.

“Where are all your grandfather’s things?” I enquire.

“Oh, this is just one of his many holiday homes. I can’t actually remember the last time he used it. With Gran being unwell, they don’t travel much. I was here a lot as a kid, but it has been years. I forgot how beautiful this place is,” she muses before continuing to answer my initial question. “He will have sent someone to collect what little things he does keep here when they brought the stuff for me. He told me they left it in the living room, so I will grab it after the tour,” Bree replies as she pulls me up the stairs.

There are six bedrooms in total and, feeling gentlemanly, I offer her the large master bedroom. In true Bree style, she laughs. “It’s not your bedroom to give away. You didn’t think I was going to let you take that massive bed, did you?” she jokes as she points to the large bed in the middle of the room. My mind goes to some very sexy places that include me, Bree, and that bed. I open the en-suite door to continue my tour and try to get my cock to calm down.

The master bedroom has a giant en-suite with a shower big enough to fit about six people. Not to mention the massive walk-in closet that I am sure she will love. I mention this and she scoffs, saying she would prefer the weapons room to that. Fuck, she really might be my perfect girl.

I choose the bedroom right next door to hers and make all sorts of bullshit about it being for security, even going as far as saying that the view and balcony drew me in. It’s all lies. I just wanted to be close to her. The desire to get to know her, spend time with her, and protect her echoes through every fibre of my being. Every time she smiles at me, cracks a joke that makes her laugh, or even when she gets snarky with me, I want to fall at her knees and worship her. I have been attracted to women before, but the way I feel about my little firecracker could be my downfall.

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