“Aye,” he answers gruffly. “You drew it for me. So I like it. I fancy all of your drawings. But this one is mine.”
A blush creeps over my cheeks and I wring my hands together. I sometimes forget that Ronan was watching me when I didn’t know it. That he’s probably seen a lot of things I wouldn’t normally have shown anyone. Like my drawings. My journal. My underwear.
“I’ll get it done tomorrow,” he says, interrupting my thoughts.
“Tomorrow?” I question. “But you’ll need to make an appointment. Find the right artist…”
“The syndicate has a lad who does them,” he says. “I’ll have him come tomorrow.”
“Oh.”
“It’s settled then.” He reaches for my hand and pulls me into his lap.
He kisses my face and nuzzles into my neck. His words are quiet and soft and betraying a rare emotion when he whispers into my ear.
“Thank you, love.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Sasha
“I’m as big as a frigging house,” Mack whines as she stares at herself in the mirror. “Are you sure you want me to walk with you out there? Nobody will be looking at you when you have me thundering down the aisle beside you.”
I laugh at her, and it turns out to be just what I need at the moment. I’m a nervous wreck.
“Mack, you look beautiful,” I assure her. “And I’ve got nobody else to walk out there with me. I really need you.”
“Oh fine.” She pouts. “You’re gonna play that card, huh?”
“I am.”
She turns to me and starts fussing over my dress. A white floor length, empire waist ensemble with a touch of gold trim. It’s not what I imagined myself getting married in. But when I was looking at dresses, Ronan admitted his favorite color on me was white.
He likes to think of me as pure and good. The light to his darkness. I’m definitely no angel, but he’s not the devil he thinks he is either. So for him, I wear white.
I hadn’t planned on doing anything in the traditional way. I mean, I’m getting married in a strip club. Run by the mafia. There’s pretty much nothing traditional about that. But it turns out, Ronan’s very traditional in some aspects.
He wanted to see me walk down the aisle. He wanted to show the world that I’m his. I couldn’t deny him.
So even though I’m a bit panicky at the prospect of having everyone’s eyes on me, I know it will all go away the moment I see his. Standing there, waiting for me.
The music starts, and I grab Mack’s arms in a vice grip.
“It’s okay, Sash,” she says. “Just breathe.”
I do. I take a deep breath and close my eyes.
“There’s nobody out there but Ronan, okay. Just focus on him.”
“Okay.” I nod and she guides me out the door.
I’m shaking like a leaf, and my stomach flips when I see the room full of faces. They are all staring at me.
Mack squeezes my hand in hers and gives me a much needed support.
“Look at Ronan,” she whispers.
I do. I find his eyes at the end of the aisle. Soft and brown and focused only on me. He’s anxious too. Impatient. This was all his idea, but now it’s clear he just wants me there next to him. He doesn’t like to have me out of arm’s reach, especially around this many people. It’s just his way of protecting me.
I steel myself with several more deep breaths and take a step. And then another. And my eyes never leave Ronan’s. He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. Right now, in his suit, he’s even more so. It’s the same suit he always wears. But today it’s different. Today he looks like my husband.
Mack hands me off to Ronan at the end of the aisle, and he takes my hands in his. Almost immediately, my shaking stops, and everything else falls away. It’s only us now, and the sound of Rory’s voice as he performs the ceremony.
I recite the vows that were crafted for members of the syndicate. They are by no means normal. They speak of family, honor, and blood. Loyalty and protecting one another at all costs.
They couldn’t be more perfect if I’d written them myself.
I will always protect Ronan, just as I know he will always protect me.
When Rory moves onto the blood rite, he hands me the ceremonial blade first. Ronan and I both knew we wouldn’t be able to cut each other, which was tradition, so we opted to do it ourselves. The only other option was having Rory perform the ritual, however I had a feeling Ronan might very well murder him if he cut me.
So with Ronan’s eyes on mine, while Rory recites the words that bind our souls together for eternity, I take the blade to my finger and then hand it off to Ronan. He does the same, and then our hands are bound together with a piece of ribbon.
“My anam cara,” we both repeat together.