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“What the fuck was that?” I growl, fisting my hand in the collar of his shirt as I shove him hard against the wall.
“I can’t lose her,” he whispers into the air between us, barely loud enough for me to hear, let alone Isla across the room.
“You should have fucking thought about that before you killed his goddamn brother!” I roar. I’ve never been known for my even temperament, but I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this much rage pouring out of me. I shove him harder against the wall, lifting his entire body from the floor, his feet kicking against my shin as he struggles against my hold. “You shouldhave known he would find out. He’s the leader of the oldest crime family in Boston.”
Small hands tug at my arm desperately until I’m forced to look down at Isla, her eyes full of fear and determination. “Don’t hurt him,” she whispers. “It’s not his fault.”
“Then whose fault is it?” I bark, shoving Edward one last time before dropping him to the floor.
He tumbles to the floorboards at my feet, and I barely stop myself from picking him up again just to drop him. Maybe that would knock some sense into the fucking idiot.
“Yours.” She shoves at me. “This is your fault. You’re the reason he killed Aunt Clarissa, and now you’re the reason I’m losing my freedom.” Her voice breaks, the sadness cloaked with fire is almost enough to snap me out of my spiral. But not quite.
I prowl toward her as she stumbles backward, her eyes wide because she doesn’t know what I’m capable of. Fuck. I hope she never finds out. Without knowing anything about her, I can see she’s innocent. She might pretend to be tough, pretend she can make it on her own, but she’s a scared little girl on the inside.
Her back hits the wall she was huddled against a few minutes ago, and I press both palms on either side of her, bringing my face down until it’s mere inches from her. “I’m sure that’s the version of events you’ve been told your whole life, spitfire. But you know what they say about stories. There are always two sides.” Each word is on a low growl. “I don’t want to marry you any more than you want to marry me, but guess what? We’re both losing our freedom here. So, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to walk your pretty ass up those stairs and pack your shit. While you do that, I’m going to organize a fucking wedding for tomorrow, because Spade will most definitely have someone in attendance, and then once we’re man and wife, we’ll be going back to Chicago. Is that clear?”
Isla’s eyes are blown wide with fear, but the rebellion is there, just under the surface, begging to be set free. Her bottom lip disappears between her teeth, like she’s deciding whether she wants to argue. But she’ll soon find it’s pointless. She won’t win.
No matter how much she kicks and screams, she’s mine now, whether either of us like it or not.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ISLA
He’s not fucking around.
There’s a darkness within him unlike any I’ve seen before. Not that I’ve spent that much time with dangerous people. I’ve been surrounded by safeguards and rules. Things I always found annoying as hell that were there for my own good.
But I ignored them all, and now here I am. Crowded against a wall, no escape from a man who frankly scares the hell out of me. Not that I’ll ever tell him that.
His words repeat over and over in my mind.
“I don’t want to marry you any more than you want to marry me, but guess what? We’re both losing our freedom here. So, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to walk your pretty ass up those stairs and pack your shit. While you do that, I’m going to organize a fucking wedding for tomorrow, because Spade will most definitely have someone in attendance, and then once we’re man and wife, we’ll be going back to Chicago.”
All hope of talking him out of this arrangement is long gone, and now all that’s left is cold, hard reality.
I’m marrying Doc.
I’m marrying a man I was raised to hate.
And I’m doing it tomorrow.
I close my eyes and let out a steadying breath, training my emotions until I’m alone. I won’t let this man see what he’s doing to me. I refuse to break in front of him, even if that means I fall apart alone.
“I asked you a question, Isla. Don’t make me repeat myself,” he snarls, and I barely stop myself from flinching.
“Yes, I understand,” I force through gritted teeth.
He lingers there for another moment, my body trapped between his and the wall, before he stalks off toward the broken front door.
My feet carry me back up the stairs, but I’m too numb to feel anything other than despair. Any hopes or dreams I may have had are long gone, and suddenly I regret every night I spent out partying instead of studying.
Because ultimately that’s how I showed up on Spade’s radar.
Maybe I have played a part in all this, but now it’s a matter of whether I’ll be able to dig myself out again.
Every noise I hear downstairs makes me jump.
