“If that’s what you need, boss.”
“That is what I need.” Sean sits back in his seat and smiles at each one in turn around the room. He may be trying to appear friendly with his grin, but his eyes dare anyone to question his decision.
Deklan nods and glances at the floor. He tightens his hand into a fist again and then crosses his arms in front of his chest. I can see the muscles in his forearm tense through his shirt. He looks up, meets my gaze briefly, and then looks back at his boss.
“My daughter,” Dad says with a growl, “is not marrying some brute.”
“Your daughter isn’t yours,” Sean replies with a smile. “Her life belongs to me. Did I not make that clear? She’ll marry who I say she’ll marry, or I’ll have the groom put a bullet between her eyes. Would you prefer that?”
I watch Deklan shift his eyes toward his boss as he uncrosses his arms and moves his hand closer to his waist.
Near his gun.
“Cormick,” Mom whispers as she puts her hand on my father’s arm. With her other hand, she reaches out and clasps my fingers.
“It’s okay, Dad,” I say again. “Really, it’s fine. I’m fine with it.”
If I keep saying it, maybe it will be true. Deklan looks at me again, but his face holds no expression. I have no idea what he’s thinking.
“It’s not,” Dad says softly, but there’s no fight in his tone. “You were supposed to live in prosperity, here, not marry some random…”
Dad’s voice trails off as Mom grips his arm tightly. He looks at me, his eyes filled with terror, and his mouth slightly open, but I have no words to comfort him. I smile gently, hoping the gesture will reassure him.
Inside, numbness and shock conflict with panic.
“Mr. O’Conner has mistaken you for some commoner, Dek.” Sean clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Let’s hope he doesn’t make any more mistakes.”
My father clasps his hands in his lap and bows his head, defeated. I’m all too familiar with the look. It’s the same look he often has when returning from Vegas or Atlantic City.
“Aww, don’t look so sad!” Sean grins again and calls to Neil, telling him to pour everyone a drink. Neil passes out glasses of Irish whiskey to everyone but me, and Sean continues. “How about this? You hand me the money you owed my father at the time of your little girl’s ordeal, plus interest, in cash, right now, and we’ll forget the whole thing.”
I glance at Dad. I have no idea what kind of money he owes to the Foleys, only that it is substantial.
“Teagan”—Sean turns toward his sister, the math wiz—“starting with the original amount and calculating the interest at the usual thirty-five percent, going back five years, what does Mr. O’Conner owe today?”
Teagan stares into space for only a few moments.
“Four hundred twenty-three thousand, six hundred and fifty-four dollars. Rounded.”
“Quite a chunk.” Sean whistles low and loud. “You got that in your pocket, Mr. O’Conner?”
Dad doesn’t respond.
“Then I guess we’ll be having a wedding.”
My mind is racing, but I can’t make sense of any of my thoughts. Sean doesn’t seem like the same man I had met in the past. He’s not temperate and friendly. In the past, he had seemed nearly submissive at his father’s side. Not anymore. It’s like something in his brain switched on when his father died, and he is now a completely different person.
A maniacal, insane person.
“Cheers!” Sean holds up his glass for a second and then quickly downs it with another snicker.
This can’t be happening.
Chapter 3
Flowers lining the path leading up to a white trellis covered in roses, hundreds of guests dressed in their finest as the sun begins to set in the distance, and a huge champagne fountain decorating the vast garden behind the Foley estate—that’s the image I had in my head.
It’s far from the reality of the day.