“The wedding will still be tomorrow,” Sean says, and my mother lets out a sigh of relief. Sean tilts his head and grins. “However, there will be a slight change.”
My father lifts his head with a jerk, staring straight at Sean. I can see his shoulders tense, and my own anxiety is an automatic response. When my father gets angry, someone usually gets hurt. Most of the time that’s Mom, but sometimes it’s just whoever happens to be closest, and I’m sitting right next to him.
“What change?” my father asks. I can see his throat bob up and down, and he grips his thighs with his fingers, making the knuckles go white.
“The venue, for one,” Sean says. “With the funeral plans, there’s just no time to set up the garden outside. We’ll hold the ceremony here with a justice of the peace.” He pauses as he taps his cigar into an ashtray, stares at the tip, and tries to light it again. This time, he is successful, and the tip glows briefly as he puffs. “Oh yes”—he uses the cigar to point toward the ceiling—“and the groom. The groom is going to change.”
Chapter 2
My whole body goes cold. I realize my mouth is hanging open, and I close it quickly. Dad straightens in his seat, and my mother places her hand over her mouth.
“But, the arrangement with your father—” Dad starts to speak before he’s interrupted.
“You mean the dead guy?” Sean’s hollow laugh fills the room as his eyes dance around with their electric flashes. “It’s null and void, Mr. O’Conner. Nevertheless, out of the slim respect I had for the man, I won’t leave you or little Kera here out in the cold, but I have no intention of marrying her myself.”
I rub at my wrist as a thousand thoughts and emotions run through me. There’s dread—how else will my father pay his debt? There’s relief—I don’t have to marry this man. There’s terror—who does he want me to marry instead?
“That…that wasn’t the arrangement,” Dad says. “Kera is supposed to become a Foley, not be sold off.”
“No,” Sean says with a shake of his head, “she’s payment for everything you owe my family.” He leans forward and places his elbows on his knees. He stares at my father and grins, showing his teeth. “I already have her in my wallet. How I choose to spend her is completely up to me.”
I stop breathing. I keep my eyes down, refusing to look up at Sean Foley’s insane, laughing face. I’m reminded of Jack Nicholson in The Shining. My heart is pounding, and my palms are clammy. I shove one hand between my leg and the cushion of the couch and grab my wrist with my other hand, trying to stop them both from trembling.
In this day and age, it’s one thing to know I’ve been betrothed to someone, but to be referred to as property—not even property, but currency—is another thing entirely. I want to speak up and tell Sean to go fuck himself. I want to say that I’m not on the gold standard, but I can’t. I can’t say anything. The debt is still owed, and there is no way my father can pay it in actual cash. If my father won’t offer me as payment, Sean will take it out on him in some other way. Without funds, my father can only pay in blood.
Whose? His? Mom’s? Mine?
When someone else controls the distribution of the cards, you can’t argue the hand you’re dealt. They’re already holding all the aces, and bluffing is futile.
My gambling father should know that.
“It’s okay,” I say quietly. Without looking up, I pull my hand from under my thigh and place it on my Dad’s arm. “Really, Dad. It’s okay with me.”
My father glances at me, and I try to keep my expression in check. I swallow hard and blink to keep the burning in my eyes from turning into tears.
“Smart girl,” Sean says. I glance up briefly, and he winks at me.
I shudder and look away.
“Who…who will she marry?” My mother’s voice is barely audible.
“I haven’t decided yet.” Sean leans back in the chair and puffs on the cigar as he looks around the room. “Neil won’t work out. I’m pretty sure he’d be caught cheating on her—probably with the pool boy.”
Sean laughs in his cousin’s direction, and Neil snorts as he shakes his head slowly before taking a big gulp from his glass, draining it. He places the glass on a nearby table, crosses his arms, and taps a shiny brown loafer against the floor. Teagan finally looks up from her phone, staring at Sean with raised eyebrows.
“How old are you, Lucas?” Sean asks abruptly.
Lucas takes a step away from the couch where he’s been leaning and tilts his head to one side as he frowns. His mouth opens and closes a couple of times before he answers.
“Forty-eight.”
“How much Viagra would you need to keep up with this young, hot piece of ass on the couch, huh?”
Lucas grins and then leers at me.
“I might need a few,” he says, “just in case.”
My father stands before my mother can grab him, and his shoulders tense as he points a finger at Sean Foley.