Page 64 of Ruthless Savior
It’s not that I don’t trust Ronan. He’s proved over the last two weeks that he’s a man of his word—if this is some con to make me trust him only to pull the rug out from under me at the last moment, it feels like an unnecessarily complicated one. I’ve always been in the position of lesser power—if he wanted to sell me himself or take advantage of me he could have.
But I can’t stop thinking about tonight. About the fact that we’ll have to go to bed together. That the offer I made him will become a reality… and I’m not as upset about it as I should be.
“Leila.” My mother’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “It’s time to go.”
We head downstairs to the waiting SUV—no limo or town car, this is one of Ronan’s bulletproof-glass vehicles, designed to make sure we can get to the church safely. We’re escorted by several of his guards and flanked by two other SUVS in front of us and behind, ensuring that we make it to the Cathedral of the Holy Cross without incident.
The ride to the cathedral passes in a blur. My mother is sitting next to me in the middle row, Annie and Alicia behind us, and I can feel her anxiety radiating off her in waves. She doesn't know all the details about Ronan, but it’s clear that there’s potential danger. The fact that we're surrounded by armed men is a pretty clear indicator. I wonder if she’s assuming, like Alicia, that he’s some sort of celebrity or billionaire. The latter is true, I think, just a different kind than they’re imagining.
The Cathedral of the Holy Cross is Boston's most prominent Catholic church, and as we pull up, I can see why Ronan chose it. It's grand and imposing, a place for royalty or equally powerful people to exchange their vows. I’m glad I chose the dress I did—I feel like a princess, and this looks like a place for a princess to have her wedding. The spires stretch toward the iron-gray sky, and even from the outside, it's clear this is meant to be a statement.
Alicia and Annie help me with my train. I’m handed a bouquet of flowers from a woman in a uniform that I don’t recognize, a bouquet that I didn’t pick out. All of the details about this wedding were handled by someone else, and as I look down at the spray of red and white roses and greenery in my hands, I feel like I’m floating outside my body.
The dress is the only thing that feels like it’s mine, grounding me. Something I picked. Everything else has been chosen for me, even the groom.
I can hear the music floating out as we walk through the huge doors and into the narthex. Alicia fusses over my veil and skirt,making sure it’s all just right, and my mother gives me a kiss on the cheek before following Finn, who appears to escort her to her seat inside. Annie and Alicia follow a moment later—I’ll be walking down the aisle alone.
The doors open as organ music fills the cavernous space, the wedding march loud and pompous as I take the first shaky step forward. The pews are filled with people I don’t recognize until the very first rows, where I see my mother and Alicia on one side, Annie on the other, along with Ronan’s father and another man I don’t recognize, but who shares some of Ronan’s features. It must be Ronan’s brother. Next to him is a beautiful dark-haired woman in a bordeaux-colored gown—his wife, maybe.
I see a pale-haired man with icy eyes, surrounded by other black-suited men. I know the leader of the Bratva is here; maybe that’s him. There’s an empty pew for Rocco De Luca and his associates, who were invited despite the fact that neither Ronan nor I would want them here. Ronan explained to me that all of the families had to be invited—that’s the whole point of this wedding. Every family, large to small, has to see that Ronan has chosen me to be his bride, that I’ll be his wife and therefore untouchable.
This isn't just a wedding; it's a gathering of Boston's criminal elite.
Except, I think as I try to keep pace with the music as I walk,even his wife isn’t untouchable. Because what happened to the last one?
I clutch my bouquet tighter to keep my hands from trembling, and my legs feel unsteady. I see Ronan waiting at the altar through the mist of my veil, and even though none of this is real, even though I’m not in love with him and this is all nothing but a farce to keep me alive, I feel my heart beating faster.
He's wearing a perfectly tailored black tuxedo that makes him look like he stepped out of a magazine. His dark hair iscombed back, his jaw clean-shaven, and there’s an unreadable expression on his face as he watches me approach him. I hand my bouquet off to my mother in her pew as I reach the altar, and then turn to face Ronan, feeling as if I might pass out at any moment.
The ceremony itself is longer than I expected, full of readings and prayers that feel surreal given the circumstances. None of the ritual of it is familiar to me, but I follow Ronan’s lead. I tell myself that I can get through this, and I focus on Ronan’s fingers around mine, grounding me. We’re allies in this, I remind myself. He’s protecting me from Rocco, and I’m protecting him from having to hand me over, something he doesn’t want to do.
Ronan’s voice is steady as he repeats his vows, but mine sounds shaky, no matter how hard I try. The words feel hollow, and something in my chest aches at the thought that if I fall in love and get married in the future, it won’t be the first time I’ve said these words.
But maybe I’ll come up with different ones, then. And if none of this is real, then it doesn’t matter. It’s like acting in a play. Just parroting lines, I tell myself, repeating it in my head as I say what the priest tells me to.
Ronan slides a thin gold band onto my ring finger, and I do the same for him. The priest pronounces us husband and wife, and my chest constricts when he tells Ronan to kiss the bride.
The veil slides up, Ronan’s long fingers drawing the fragile lace up and over my face, tossing it back and over my hair. His hand touches my chin, tipping my mouth up toward his, and I feel his lips ghost over mine just as all hell breaks loose.
The doors of the church slam open, the sound of it making me jump back and nearly trip over my skirt. Ronan’s hand on my arm steadies me, but a moment later, the sound of gunfire rattles through the church as several black-clothed men storm inside.
For a moment, there’s nothing but chaos, too fast to understand what’s happening. Some guests are screaming and diving for cover, others, the heads of families and their associates, their security, drawing guns to fire back. I see muzzle flashes and hear the distinctive crack of automatic weapons, and my mind goes completely blank with terror.
"Get down!" Ronan shouts, pushing me behind the altar as bullets start flying overhead. The beautiful stained-glass windows explode in a shower of colored glass, and I can hear people shouting and crying.
Finn appears out of nowhere, grabbing me by the arm. "We need to move! Now!"
"My mother!" I scream, trying to look back into the chaos of the church. My heart is pounding, blood rushing in my ears. My feet tangle in my skirt, and I nearly go down as I try to escape his grasp, looking wildly for my mother and best friend. “Alicia is with her, too!”
"Danny's got them!" Finn shouts back, firing abruptly toward the front of the church as he pulls me along with him. "Move!"
He half-drags, half-carries me toward a side door I hadn't noticed before. Behind us, I can hear Ronan shouting orders, his voice cutting through the chaos as gunfire rattles all around him. I feel a sudden flash of terror for him, a fear that he’ll be killed.
“Ronan!” I scream his name and see his head whip around, before Finn shoves the side door open.
“He’ll be fine,” Finn says sharply. “I need to get you to safety so I can back him up. You understand? That’s the best thing for him right now—you getting out of here so his best men can get back in there with him.”
What I understand is that Ronan has sent the people he trusts to keep me and my mother safe, putting himself in danger as a result. My throat tightens, tears burning at the backs of myeyes as I cough on dust from the bullets chipping off stone, and Finn drags me through the door.
