Page 24 of Brutal Vows
I look at the ceiling, biting my tongue and knowing there’s no way out of this but through. My voice comes out gruff. “Reyna.”
“Hmm. Suppose it fits, what with her reputation.”
“You lost me.”
“Reyna means queen.”
Queen.Why that should send such a jolt of lust through my veins, I have no idea.
I close my eyes and clench my teeth, trying to banish the thought of her.
My dick laughs at me and sends me a memory of her full, scarlet lips instead.
Suppressing a groan, I pour myself more scotch.
Watching me closely, Declan says, “You better not make that face outside this room, lad, or you’ll be begging your new wife not to cut your prick off.”
“I’m not making a face.”
“Your cock is.”
“Aye, well, he’s not the boss of me.”
“Let’s hope not. Stick him where he shouldn’t be, and you could start a war.”
I say through gritted teeth, “I’d never do anything to risk that. I know how important this deal is to you. To us. I won’t fuck it up over a piece of arse. Besides, like I said, she hates me.”
Declan lowers his voice. “Funny thing about women, though, Spider, is that it’s never as simple as it first seems.”
“Don’t I fucking know it,” I mutter, then take another big swallow of scotch.
I have a feeling I’ll be finishing the bottle.
FIVE
REY
For six entire days, I don’t speak to my brother. I can barely look at him, either.
Which is lucky for him, because if I look at him long enough, I’m liable to scratch out his eyes.
The heartless bastard.
In the meantime, he’s been floating around on cloud nine, bragging about the match to anyone and everyone who’ll listen. He’s already had a meeting with the heads of the other four families to announce the news. I’m surprised he hasn’t taken out a full-page ad in theNew York Times.
And Lili, my poor darling Lili, has been locked in her room, crying.
I’m concerned about how hard she’s taking this.
Of course it’s horrible being no more to your own father than a pawn on a chessboard to be moved around to his advantage in Mafia war games, but it’s never been a secret that she’d be matched to a husband the way all the women in our family are.
Though I suppose cold, stark reality is always worse than the theoretical.
A man of flesh and bone is worse than the idea of one.
And an arrogant, swaggering Irishman is exponentially worse than them all.
I haven’t been able to wipe the memory of his smug smirk from my mind. The way he looked at me. The way helaughedat me.
