Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
“Something to think about, then, isn’t it?” Mam says again, sipping her tea.
“Aye,” Seamus echoes. “And we need to move fast.”
“The Kavanaghs have no sons, correct?” Seamus asks.
“Correct,” Mam confirms. “Two daughters. Cavin, you went to school with one of them.”
I nod. I did, and the girl I went to school with was at the cemetery the day of the bombing.
I was the only one who saw her though. If I were to get close to her family, I’d be able to investigate, see if her da had anything to do with the bombing.
Seamus turns to me, his expression flat. “You’re the one who said you’d do anything for the family. Didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” I say, nodding.
“You meant it?”
My back goes straight. “Of course.”
Are they suggesting I marry Erin Kavanagh? An image flashes—her body pressed against mine in the graveyard. The way she fit against me like she was made for it. The way I got hard, carrying her to safety.
Awkward Little Miss Perfect. The girl who ratted me out, who looked at me like I was dirt.
The girl whose hand I can still feel in mine.
Christ.
“Good, then. Perhaps you’ll be the one to secure this connection. Hmm?”
Secure the connection. Take vows that last a lifetime, bind myself legally to a woman I despise, and fuck her when duty demands an heir. Wake up to her hatred every goddamn morning.
Aye. That’s how we secure a connection.
I blow out a breath. “Aye. Perhaps I will.”
“Not Cavin,” Declan snaps. “Come on, Seamus. He’s done enough for the family, hasn’t he?”
Done enough. If he only fucking knew.
“Is marrying a beautiful woman really that much of a sacrifice?” Seamus asks.
“How would you know?” Declan cuts in with a snort. “You married for love.”
Daire sighs. “He’s not wrong.”
Mam laughs quietly into her teacup, and Seamus narrows his eyes.
“You said you’d do anything for the family,” Seamus pushes.
He’s got me. The bastard knows it. I did say that, swore it in blood when I joined the clan’s business. But this? Shackling myself to a woman who hates me? Who’ll spend every day of our marriage wishing I were dead?
A woman I apparently can’t stop thinking about since I touched her?
Fuck my life.
I sit up straighter. “Aye.”
And I will. I remember how it felt—searching for Bronwyn, tearing the world apart just to bring her back. I remember the hours inside that godforsaken high-security prison as I paid the piper for sins I didn’t commit. Torin still is… still locked away.
Of course I meant it.
“Then we’ll arrange a marriage,” Mam says, her voice final.
“Aye,” Da agrees. “It’s time.”
My stomach drops, free fall.
Jesus fucking Christ.
“Erin Kavanagh’s grown into something of a beauty, hasn’t she?” Kyla says with a grim smile, though her eyes look a bit troubled. Is that relief I see as well?
“I suppose.” I purse my lips.
“You don’t look thrilled, Cavin,” Seamus notes.
I shrug. “That girl, that woman, was a thorn in my side at St. Albert’s. She got me into more trouble than the devil himself.”
“Was ages ago,” Seamus says, crossing his arms on his chest.
“Right.” I won’t go back on my word, but give a man a fuckin’ minute.
“Honestly, Cavin,” Kyla mutters. “It’s not high school anymore.”
Still. I remember the way she looked at me—those cold, narrow eyes. The way she’d rat me out without flinching. She hated me. Still does. I’d bet my life on it.
“Only one problem though. She’d never agree to marry me. You do know that, right? She fuckin’ hates me.”
I made her life hell at St. Albert's. Called her names. Made her cry. She's got every reason to hate me.
But I have every fuckin’ reason to hate her right back.
They stare. Declan shakes his head, but the rest look like I’ve just handed them the keys to the kingdom, and I know, if I marry, it’ll benefit all of us.
“Fine. If marrying into the Kavanaghs is what it takes… If this is how we solidify the family… make us stronger…”
I stand, my shoulders tense.
“Fine. Do it. Tell me where and when.”
And with that, I turn.
“I’m going to bed.”
Erin fuckin’ Kavanagh.
I’d rather go back to prison.
Chapter Four
Erin
To be honest, the only thing keeping me here in this car is my sister.
The last doctor’s visit gave her six months. Six months to live—unless something drastically changes.
The beautiful thing about free healthcare is that it’s free. The terrible thing about free healthcare is that it means waiting.
Waiting so long, you start forgetting what it feels like to hope, and in some cases, the treatment comes after it’s already too late.
So here I am, in the back of the car.
Da is driving, with Mam next to him, her hands folded in her lap.
Me—sitting in the back, itching to count something. Anything.
I need an anchor. A number. A rhythm.
Something to stop me from focusing on the way this dress clings to my skin like a second layer of sweat. Moisture pools beneath my breasts, between my thighs, making me feel filthy and exposed.