Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 64885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“Is she in here?” my father yelled. “Is she with you, you slimy son of a bitch?”
“Get the fuck out of here, Doyle.”
“Don't you dare,” he spit back. “Serenity slipped her guard last night, and trust me, I've already dealt with those idiots. But one of the hotel staff said they saw her standing outside your door last night. Did the little whore come crying to you after I told her she had to marry—”
“Don't you dare talk about my wife that way.”
Gareth’s voice was absolutely lethal, and the primal claim in his tone sent warm shivers down my spine.
“Your what?” my father asked, his tone dropping a few octaves.
“My wife,” Gareth repeated.
I took that moment to peek around his massive frame, unable to stop the urge to look my father dead in the eyes as the news hit him.
Utter disappointment and disgust raked over every inch of his features before he turned back to Gareth.
“That's impossible,” he said.
“It's not,” Gareth answered. “You know those favor chips I rarely give out? She won one from me in a hand you made her play in your stead. She called that favor in last night. There is absolutely nothing you can do.”
My father's face drained of all color, and I wasn't exactly sure he’d remain standing. He knew what he'd been getting into when he joined the billionaire’s game, and had signed all manner of legally binding documents before he'd played his first round of cards.
One of which, if I remembered correctly, included an entire section about favor chips and how they were absolute, which is what made them so valuable.
“I don't believe you,” my father said, shaking his head. “You would never legally bind yourself to an O'Brien—”
“Maxfield,” Gareth cut over him. “She is no longer an O'Brien, which makes her no longer your concern. She is fully under my protection, and if you so much as try to take her from me...” His voice trailed off, and my body literally trembled at the way he was looking at my father. “Well, you know exactly what will happen.”
Growing up as the heiress to the O'Brien empire, I knew exactly what he was talking about. My family and Gareth's had a sordid history that dated all the way back to the early twenties.
And while the blood feuds between the families had calmed over time, at least enough for us to sit at the same poker table, the feud had never been forgotten. A binding agreement between our families had never been up for discussion.
The weight of what I’d done by calling in my favor finally hit me, and I felt my knees go weak. I cursed myself for the vulnerability, hating that I’d had to come to Gareth in order to take some semblance of control of my life.
But what had I traded it for, a marriage to another mobster? Had I traded my prison for a gilded cage?
Trapped.
I felt absolutely trapped.
My father had backed me into a corner, forcing me to make an impossible choice. Now I was going to have to deal with that choice.
“Don't you dare threaten me,” my father fired back. “What you've done is start something that you no doubt can't finish.”
“I'd be more concerned with what you've done,” Gareth said. He lowered his tone, but I still caught the words. “Look at what you forced your daughter into. Think about that, Doyle. Think about the fact that she came to me, of all people, because of what you pushed her into. Everything that happens next is on your hands.”
“Annul it.” My father's tone left no room for objection. “Unless you've consummated the marriage, she's still of value to me. Annul it.”
“I don't like the tone you're using, O’Brien.” Brooks's voice sounded from behind me, making me jump a little where I stood in the entryway.
I hadn't heard him approach at all. It made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I’d met Gareth’s best friend last night, when he'd met us at the little chapel in Las Vegas. He was tall with lithe muscles concealed beneath simple clothes, yet there was nothing simple about him. Sure, he was attractive, his rich brown eyes almost charming, and he'd been kind and respectful to me last night. But he had a dangerous exterior that put me on alert. I'd spent my life raised by mobsters, and I could easily spot a killer. Brooks was most certainly one, but he had a confident, almost humorous edge about him that made him even more terrifying than Gareth, who was all brutal strength and no-nonsense attitude. I suppose the only consolation about the warning signs bursting beneath my skin about Gareth’s friend was that now I was under his protection, too.
“You called in him?” my father asked, and it shocked me a little to see the recognition and wariness in his eyes. He either knew Brooks or knew stories about him. Of course, I knew nothing. I’d been kept in the dark about almost everything, just like my mother and her mother before her, and so on and so forth.