Brutal Vows (Queens & Monsters #4)

I tilt my head in a gesture that’s neither a yes nor a no. “An unexpected arranged marriage isn’t the worst thing to ever happen to me. I’ll survive.”


“I bet you will.” She spends a while in thought, then says, “So it doesn’t bother you, the arranged marriage thing?”

“Bother is one of those words that can have many different meanings.”

After a moment watching me over the rim of her wineglass as she takes a swallow, she pronounces, “You would’ve made an excellent politician.”

That makes me laugh. “I’m the ranking female of one of the Five Families of New York. I am an excellent politician.”

She pulls her legs off the table and leans over to peer more closely at me, propping her elbows on her thighs. “You like him, don’t you?”

I have to pause to decide how to answer. Then I go with the truth. I say softly, “For the most part, yes.”

When she grins, pleased, I add, “His mood changes are pretty rough, though.”

She waves a hand in the air. “He’s been through a lot lately.”

I can tell she regrets that instantly.

Sitting back against the sofa, she crosses her legs and drinks her wine, gazing up at an abstract painting on the wall that suddenly seems to fascinate her.

From someone so forthright and self-confident, this avoidant behavior tells me that whatever it is Quinn has been through lately, she doesn’t want to tell me about it.

Which, of course, makes me desperate to know.

I say, “I understand you’re his friend. I won’t ask you to put yourself in a position where you feel you’d be being disloyal by betraying his confidence. But if there’s anything you can tell me that might help me understand him, I would appreciate it.”

She slides her gaze in my direction. She takes a moment to gather her thoughts. Then she says, “It’s his story to tell, but I can tell you this: he’s been hurt.”

I nod. “He told me that himself. It’s the reason he wanted an arranged marriage.”

Looking encouraged that I already know that, she uncrosses her legs and turns her body toward me.

“So he told you about my sister, Riley?”

I have a split second to decide how to answer.

I remember what Gianni told me the night of the home invasion about the sister of the wife of the Mob boss getting impregnated by her Russian kidnapper, and decide to walk the gray line between truth and lies.

Looking down at my hands, I say, “I know she’s pregnant by the boss of the Moscow Bratva.”

“Yes. Which Spider blames himself for.”

Startled by that, I look up. “Why does he blame himself?”

“He was her bodyguard when she got kidnapped. Plus, you know, he had feelings for her…”

She trails off, then makes a face. “You didn’t know about that part.”

I keep my expression completely impassive when I say, “How long ago was this?”

She wrinkles her nose. “I feel like maybe I’ve already said too much.”

Ignoring that, I think it through. If her sister is still pregnant, that means whatever happened, it was within the last nine months.

So this year, Quinn was so devastated by the woman under his protection being kidnapped and impregnated by the Russian that he took the drastic and life-altering measure of agreeing to an arranged marriage with a stranger in response.

He was in love with her.

He’s still in love with her.

That’s what this morning was about. His mood change, his silence, his inexplicable scowls.

He married me and made love to me and woke up with me, a stand-in for the woman he actually wants.

I feel sick. Foolish, ashamed, and sick to my stomach.

A week ago, this wouldn’t have hurt. I wouldn’t have felt a thing. But last night seemed so real to me. All the passion and emotion we shared felt so damn real.

It felt good.

For the first time in my life, I felt wanted.

Protected.

Safe.

Right now, I feel as if I’m the butt of a vicious cosmic joke.

Because no matter how I might feel about my new husband being in love with another woman, I’m basically shit out of luck. I can’t do anything about it.

There’s a contract.

In front of four hundred witnesses, vows were made.

To make matters worse, I traded my freedom and Quinn let Lili walk away with Juan Pablo like it meant nothing to him. He would’ve done it anyway. Because I know him a little better now, I understand that if only he’d known about Juan Pablo before he married me, he would have canceled the contract and walked away.

All of us would’ve been free.

I made myself a sacrificial lamb for nothing.

All that goes through my head within heartbeats. Sloane waits for my reaction with a worried look, but I put on a smile and reassure her.

Because, like she said, I would’ve made an excellent politician.

I can lie and smile and wave, when inside, I feel like dying.

“It doesn’t matter. What’s past is past. Thank you for your candor.” I lift my hand and wiggle my ring finger at her. “Can we talk about diamonds now? Because I noticed you’ve got a rock the size of a skating rink. That thing is gorgeous! Did you pick it out, or does Declan just have exquisite taste?”

She laughs, holding out her hand to gaze down at her ring. “Yeah, it’s pretty sweet, isn’t it? He likes to spoil me.”

We go from there. The conversation flows naturally. If she notices anything strange about me, she doesn’t mention it.

About twenty minutes later, I ask where the restroom is.

“Down that hall, third door on the right.”

“Thanks. Be right back.”

“Should I pour us more wine?”

“Absolutely!”

I head down the hall, desperate for a moment of privacy, but get distracted as soon as I put my hand on the powder room door handle.

I hear voices coming from farther down the hall.

It’s Quinn and Declan in his office.

I hesitate, trying to talk myself out of it, but ultimately give in and creep down the hallway toward the cracked open door. A foot outside, I stop and listen, holding my breath.

“…can’t have had anything to do with it. That was twenty years ago, lad. And you killed him. People don’t come back from the grave.”

Quinn sighs heavily. “Aye. I know. But I can’t help thinking I’m cursed.”

“That’s your guilt talking, not your good sense.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so. Forget about it. Now tell me about your wife. How’s the situation?”

I lean closer, my heart thudding as I wait to hear how Quinn responds.

When there’s only silence, Declan prompts, “Remember what you said to me when you first asked me to set up the meeting with Caruso?”

“No, what?”

Declan chuckles. “You said, ‘There’s nothing like new pussy to get over the old,’ you cold-blooded bastard.”

That feels like a knife plunged through my solar plexus. I don’t wait to hear the rest.

I turn and walk away, cursing myself for being so foolish as to let him in.

Women can never trust men. They only want to fuck things or break them.





32





Spider





“I was being an idiot,” I reply, shaking my head.

“Aye, I know that. I’m just glad you realize it. So, tell me. How is the infamous Black Widow?”

I say crossly, “I’m not going to tell you how she is in bed, for fuck’s sake.”

“Get your head out of the gutter. That’s not what I’m asking.”

“Then what the bloody hell are you asking?”

He gazes at me for a moment before saying, “She likes you, you know.”

Heat creeps into my cheeks. I say gruffly, “You think so?”

“Aye. Dimwit.”

“How can you tell?”

“The way she looks at you. The way she speaks to you. The way she told her own kin to fuck off when they tried to get you to leave the meeting.”

“Massimo,” I say, my mood darkening at the memory of him. “I don’t like that fucker.”

“Who does? My point is that your new wife’s got your back.” His eyes glimmer with laughter. “Must’ve been some wedding night, boyo.”

“I knew you were talking about that!”

“Ach, be quiet. You’re wound up again. I should’ve forced you to take some time off.”

“I already had time off after the whole debacle in Russia, remember? And I’m wound up about that damn dream, like I told you. I haven’t dreamt of Shannon in years.”

Kicking his feet up onto his desk, Declan takes a swig of his scotch and considers me, sitting across from him in one of his big leather chairs.

“I don’t think this needs to be said, but Reyna isn’t Shannon. She can take care of herself.”

“It’s my job to take care of her now!”

He waves that off. “And just because Caruso hasn’t discovered who the intruders were doesn’t mean it has anything to do with Urosevic.”

Agitated, I rise from my chair and start to pace. “They were mercs, Declan. Hired hands who were totally untraceable. That wasn’t just your average kidnapping attempt. Something bigger was behind it. Someone bigger. And the fact that Caruso can’t find anything out about them proves it.”

J.T. Geissinger's books