Page 57 of Sinful Bride

You're not really mine. You're still theirs.

"That's not fair," I manage.

"Isn't it?" He looks away, his jaw tight. "You've made it very clear from the beginning that you think I'm beneath you. That I don't belong in your world. That this marriage is a punishment you're being forced to endure. So why would I value your opinion over someone who actually respects me?"

"Because I'm trying to help you." My voice sharpens into anger. "Whether you believe it or not, I don't want to see you fail."

"Why not?" He turns back to me, his eyes searching my face. "If I fail, you can go back to your family. Back to the world you belong in. Isn't that what you want?"

“Sure.” My jaw tightens. “As a humiliated bride. That’s not a future that’s good for me, Declan. My future is tied to yours now, whether either of us likes it or not.”

The car pulls up to the venue before he can respond. The driver opens the door, and Declan steps out first, then offers me his hand.

I take it. His palm is warm against mine, his grip steady and strong. He helps me out of the car, and for a moment we stand there on the sidewalk, his hand still holding mine, both of us looking at each other like we're trying to figure out who the other person really is.

Then he releases my hand and offers me his arm instead. "Shall we?"

I slip my hand through his elbow, and we walk into the gala together.

—

The venue is stunning. It's one of the city's historic hotels, with marble columns and crystal chandeliers and soaring ceilings painted with elaborate frescoes. The ballroom is packed with people in evening wear, champagne flowing freely, and a string quartet playing in one corner.

It's exactly the kind of event I've attended a hundred times before, where I know exactly how to play my role. Declan and I make our entrance together, and I can feel the eyes on us immediately. The whispers. The speculation. Everyone wants to know about the Capetti daughter who married the Irish upstart. Everyone wants to see if the alliance will hold or if it's already fracturing.

I keep my expression serene and my posture perfect. My hand is resting lightly on Declan's arm like I'm completely comfortable being here with him. Like we're a real couple instead of two people trapped in an arrangement neither of us wanted.

"Mr. and Mrs. Murphy." A woman approaches us, her smile bright and artificial. "How wonderful to see you both. Congratulations on your recent marriage."

"Thank you," I say smoothly. "It's lovely to be here."

We make small talk for a few minutes, then she moves on, and another couple approaches. Then another. Then another. It's exhausting, but it's also familiar. This is what I was trained for—what I'm good at.

Declan, on the other hand, looks increasingly uncomfortable. He's polite and charming when people speak to him, but I can see the tension in his shoulders and the way his jaw tightens every time someone makes a subtle dig about his background. His hand flexes at his side when someone questions his legitimacy subtly.

He doesn't belong here, not really. And everyone knows it. Including him.

After about an hour of circulating, I excuse myself to use the restroom. Declan nods, his attention already caught by someone else approaching. I make my way through the crowd, smiling and nodding at people I recognize, until I reach the hallway that leads to the restrooms. It's quieter here, away from the main ballroom. I can actually hear myself think.

I'm about to push open the door to the ladies' room when I hear voices from around the corner. Two women, their voices low but carrying in the marble hallway.

"—can't believe she actually went through with it."

"What choice did she have? Her father arranged it."

"Still. Marrying him. It's such a step down."

I freeze, my hand on the door handle.

"I heard the other families are laughing about it. The Capettis, allying themselves with some motorcycle club reject who got lucky."

"He's not even a real boss. Lachlan Gallagher just handed it to him. There's no legitimacy there, no history."

"Poor Elena. She must be mortified."

"I would be. Can you imagine? Going from being a Capetti princess to being married to... that?"

Their voices fade as they move away, but the words linger, echoing in my head. They're right. I married down, and this alliance is a joke. And if that's what everyone thinks, then my own standing is compromised. My own reputation is at risk. Because in this world, you're only as strong as your alliances, and only as respected as the people you're connected to.