Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 93463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“And I will too,” I whisper. “God, I will too.”
Turning to the priest, I echo Seamus’s words.
“The vows, Father.”
I sniff, wipe my face with the back of my hand, and whisper to myself like a mantra.
I dreamt of Seamus rescuing me. But the fantasy was a lie. It was nothing like this.
In my dreams, he was noble. Kind. In my dreams, he didn’t kill Morozov to get to me.
My god, does the man even have a conscience? I fell in love with Mr. Thursday.
With Seamus.
Is The Undertaker someone I can love too?
Chapter 12
SEAMUS
Still feels like a dream.
She’s here.
She’s really fucking here.
Zoya, in white. My sweet little lass, wrapped in silk and silence, standing beside me like she’s about to be executed.
She says something, but I don’t hear it. My ears are ringing. All I can focus on is her face. The way she looks like she’s somewhere else. Like she’s already mourning herself.
I warned them. I fucking warned them.
And they had the goddamn nerve to arrange a marriage to a Morozov.
When she’s mine.
And now I’m here.
The world may collapse behind us. Her brothers may never forgive her. She might never forgive herself.
But I’ve got her.
This woman may be the literal death of me.
We take our vows.
It wasn’t how I wanted it to go.
Hell, I hadn’t imagined anything at all. I just knew I’d promised to come for Zoya.
But nothing prepared me for this.
I knew I wanted her. I knew I needed her. And I know… she may never forgive me for the way I did it.
Still, I have no choice. I’m the head of the McCarthy clan. I can’t grow soft—not for anyone. Not even for love.
Her family watches as we take our vows. Her hand trembles when I slide the ring onto her finger.
Then I snap my fingers. A signal to my men.
From here, I can see the dead body of the man I killed to make it to this altar.
That’s the Kopolov’s problem now.
The distant hum of tires draws every eye to the windows.
“Do you have a bag packed for your honeymoon?” I whisper in her ear, my blood still heating at the thought of her alone with another man, even though he’s lifeless, not ten yards behind her. “Yes,” she whispers, guarded. “It’s in the front hallway.”
“Take it with you, but I’ll buy replacements.” I want to choose what she wears. “You’ll come with me as you are. My bride. Zoya McCarthy.”
It sounds wrong in my mouth. Strange. Twisted.
Zoya, the Russian princess. McCarthy, the Irish stronghold.
Zoya McCarthy. She’s mine now.
She is mine.
My beautiful lass who hates me and once loved me.
I’ve sworn the men with me to silence. They will obey. No one breathes a word outside of the McCarthy clan.
I’ll tell my father on my own terms when I’ve laid the groundwork.
“You can leave,” Rafail says. “We will come for her.”
“And if you do,” I say with an iron voice, “you know exactly what the fuck will happen.”
“Oh, will you two shut up,” Zoya snaps. “Didn’t you hear a word I said?”
A ripple goes through the crowd. I killed a man planning to marry her, and they’re shocked she told me and Kopolov to shut up.
This girl. This woman. She’s going to end up over my knee before the sun goes down.
I’ve told her before, and I’ll say it again: McCarthy women submit to their husbands. She’ll learn her place.
Yes, she will.
She turns to them, her eyes fierce and her voice breaking.
“Don’t chase us. Don’t come after me.” She shakes her head. “I told you, I love him.”
She’s only saying that because she doesn’t want more bloodshed. Still, something in me yearns for her words to ring true. Some day. Some day.
I take her by the elbow. Her skin is soft, warm, electric against mine.
I want to carry her, hold her, kiss her.
God help me, I will.
So I do. I carry her over the threshold of her home, and I’ll do the same over mine. I lift her into my arms.
She gasps in wonder, wide-eyed, and meets my gaze. I kiss her in front of everyone—her brothers, my men. Let them watch. Let them come after me.
I know exactly what I’ve done. I know what I’ve started, even with the weight of my reputation and the reach of my power.
I’ve murdered my men. I’ve stolen the Russian princess. I’ll have to answer for it, and I’ve taken steps that even my father will never forgive.
If Kopolov is half the man I believe he is, there will be hell to pay.
But I’ve made my decision.
And if everything goes as planned…
The vows are said. She's wearing my ring. I will mark her as mine. Only mine.
I walk her to the car, open the door, then buckle her in like she’s fragile glass. She looks shell-shocked, her eyes wide.
“What did you do to Pavel?” she asks tensely.