Page 112 of Hook

There’s a determined nod from my men, and I can feel the energy in the room shift. We’re ready to do what needs to be done.

“Now,” I say, taking a deep breath. “Let’s get to work.”

We all disperse, each taking on a different task in the plan. Smyth comes to me, his face serious.

“Are you sure about this, sir? It’s not too late to back out now.”

I look him dead in the eye. “This is our only option. We have to try.”

He nods, but I can tell he has his doubts. Smyth hasn’t been as supportive as he usually is ever since I snatched Gwendolyne from Piero.

“See you at the venue.”

Smyth nods. “Do you still plan to visit her beforehand?”

“Yes, it’s the only way to ensure she stalls the wedding and gives us as much time as possible.”

His lips purse. “What if she refuses?”

It’s possible, but something in my gut tells me she won’t. Despite the way I’ve treated her, I know she cares for me.

I turn to leave the room, my heart racing with anticipation. This is it. This is the moment we’ve been building toward for years.

I step out into the sun, the wind blowing through my hair. The sky is a brilliant blue, the sun shining bright and warm. A cruel joke that such a beautiful day could be the backdrop for the most dangerous plan my outfit has ever tried to orchestrate.

While Piero is distracted by his wedding, I will be dissembling his entire empire behind his back. My men are stationed and ready to carry out a series of attacks on his establishments.

I open the door to my Porsche and sit in the driver’s seat, cracking my knuckles. It’s time for me to put an end to this rivalry and win back my soul mate. I will burn the world to the ground before I let Piero harm a hair on her head.

38

GWENDOLYNE

Istand in front of the mirror, a shudder running through me as I brush a hand across the slight bump at my stomach. The wedding is in twenty minutes. Neither my dad nor Piero know I’m pregnant, and I’m too scared to tell them. I fear they’d make me get an abortion, but I don’t want one—even if the man who got me pregnant was the one who kidnapped me.

Shaking my head, I try to tear my mind away from the baby in my belly. The ache in my chest won’t fade, it only grows stronger as the minutes tick down until the wedding ceremony. The bathroom adjoining the dressing room is the only place I could try to lock myself in to ensure the wedding doesn’t happen, and yet I know it’s futile.

Dad would have his men break the door down rather than postpone or cancel this wedding. Walking into the room, the cold, hard tile beneath my bare feet is welcoming. I glance around, taking in the details of my surroundings. The walls are painted a pale pink and decorated with small silhouettes of birds, their wings spread in flight. In one corner, a large mirror hangs above a marble sink. On the counter, a glass vase is filled with white lilies standing in contrast to the grey tile behind.

I step closer to the sink, letting my fingertips trace the smooth surface of the marble. Sadness digs through my veins, as the loneliness I’ve felt all my life is much more poignant now. Even before my wedding, I feel utterly alone. No friends to share the moment with or my mother, since she has been dead for so long. My two cousins who are bridesmaids don’t even like me. Dad has spent my entire life isolating me, and this is the result.

A thump from the dressing room startles me from my thoughts as I spin around, marching toward the door. It can’t be time yet. There’s still at least fifteen minutes until it should start.

Creeping toward the door, I open it a crack and my heart thuds erratically in my chest at the image before me.

Cillian.

Butterflies flutter to life in my stomach and the clawing desire to burst out of the bathroom and straight into his arms is both absurd and impossible to ignore.

Opening the door further, I step out to see him brushing leaves from his jacket. He’s dressed as impeccably as always in an expensive suit with his dark hair perfectly styled. Today he hasn’t got his prosthetic on, instead a sharp-looking hook is affixed to his left arm. “Cillian,” I breathe his name.

His shoulders turn rigid as he turns to face me. Those eyes undo me as I look into them, knowing that no dream I’ve had since we parted ways ever did the intensity of them justice.

“Hey, princess.”

That voice breaks me as I feel weak suddenly, clutching to the doorframe to keep myself upright.

“What are you doing here?”

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