Page 90 of Arranged Control
Padraig pats his wife’s hand. “Sorry, darling. I meant to say she’s a cunt assassin.”
Siobhan sighs. “What are we supposed to do with this now, Seamus? You gave us three days.”
“Two, really,” he corrects and shrugs. “Today’s nearly over.”
“Even fucking better,” Padraig snarls, gripping his wine glass. “I’ve a mind to throw a fucking knife in your eye.”
“Let’s not start blinding our own children, dear.”
“The solution is obvious. You leave the girl.” Padraig waves a hand at me. “No offense to you, Alina. You seem nice enough. But you aren’t worth getting us killed for.”
“Absolutely not,” Seamus says flatly, meeting his father’s gaze. He grabs my hand roughly, gripping it hard. “She’s my wife. And she’ll stay my wife.”
Padraig explodes. He calls Seamus an ungrateful and selfish prick. Seamus calls his father a hot-headed douchebag. Siobhan has to finally cut in to calm them both down.
“As much as I hate to admit it, Seamus has a point. Not about you being a douche, darling, but about Alina.” Her eyes meet mine for the briefest moment. There’s no kindness in her gaze. All the motherly gentleness is totally gone. Instead, she’s a predator.
“Explain.” Padraig’s still seething, but at least he’s not flinging insults.
“If we’re seen giving in to Molchanie’s demands, it’ll reflect poorly on the clan as a whole.”
“That’s exactly what I thought,” Seamus adds.
“Enough from you, stupid boy.” Padraig brandishes a dinner fork. “Or I swear?—”
“You’ll do what? Stab me with the silverware? I beg you to try it, old man.”
“Old man?! I can still fucking wrestle you to the ground?—”
“Enough,” Siobhan snaps, speaking sharply and loudly. “We’re a family, not a bunch of squabbling idiots. Cut it out, both of you.”
Declan leans in, taking that moment to speak up. “I agree with Mother. We can’t look weak, not right now. I have no interest in dying for my brother’s wife, but I would rather take that risk than seem like anyone can threaten us and push us around.”
“What about you, Finn? Are you as dumb as them too?” Padraig rounds on his youngest son.
Finn holds out his palms. “Appearances are everything, right?”
That starts off another round of bickering. Padraig’s word holds more weight than the three boys, but he’s backed into a corner and outnumbered. As they argue, Siobhan gently pulls me away from the table and takes me into the kitchen. We can still hear them, but we’re far enough away that we’re not part of the conversation anymore.
“I suppose this wasn’t your idea.” Siobhan busies herself opening more wine and refilling glasses. I do my best to help.
“None of this was. I didn’t even really know until recently.”
“Typical Seamus. Keeping everything to himself. I swear, that boy. I’ve always complained that he’s too flighty and bends too easily, but this is almost worse.” She gives me an appraising look. “This stubbornness over you.”
I feel myself blushing slightly. “I didn’t ask for it.”
“I’m sure you didn’t. How would you react if he wanted to divorce you tonight? Would you be upset about it?”
I turn away slightly and lift a glass to my lips. How would I feel? The thought of it makes my stomach twist. It seems inconceivable, but if it’s the right thing to do?
“I don’t want anyone to die because of me.”
“So you’d accept it?”
“Yes. Definitely.”
“Happily?”
