I’m trying to remember all the names and faces of those I don’t know, but they start to blur the moment the Quinn family arrives, also known as Irish Mob.
“Congratulations,” Eriu, the youngest sibling, says warmly, her brown hair pulled back into some elegant braid I could never pull off.
She kisses my cheek like we’re old friends, and she has this light about her that shouldn’t belong in this world, but somehow does. Her husband, Devlin, gives a polite nod and a firm handshake. There’s a pause when he turns to Aleksei. A subtle shift in the air before they shake hands. Like there’s history there neither of them wants to revisit in public.
Tynan Quinn, the head of the family, follows, his expression stoic as he greets us. I swear he could pass for a Marinov with that stare. But his wife is softer, more open.
“I’m Elara,” she says, offering a gentle hug. “It’s very nice to meet you. You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I fight the instinct to excuse myself and hide in the bathroom.
God, I just want this day to end. None of this is normal for me—to interact with these people, to break bread with them.
Tynan’s brother Fionn and his wife, Amara, come next. It’s obvious by his easy grin that he’s the more laid-back member of the family. Well, as laid-back as the Mob can be.
Then another Quinn arrives—Cillian this time, with two women beside him, both stunning and dark eyed. Though the older one carries a smile that could melt steel.
“Hey, I’m Dinara,” she says, extending a hand. “Aleksei’s cousin. And this is my sister, Tatiana.” She gestures toward the younger one. “My condolences, by the way.”
Her lips quirk as her gaze flicks to Aleksei.
He raises a brow. “Careful.”
“What?” She laughs, flipping her hand in the air. “It wouldn’t kill you to smile. It’s your wedding, after all.”
“You’re not funny,” he mutters flatly.
“I think she’s hilarious.” Cillian slides an arm around her, kissing her cheek like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.
And for a moment, something in me twists. Because I want that. Not just the kiss. Or a man. But the ease of it. The quiet intimacy of being with someone who makes it feel simple.
I glance across at Aleksei, and the muscle in his jaw tics. When his gaze drops to my mouth, I wonder if he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
I clear my throat. “So, is every Quinn in attendance? Because I’m trying to remember everyone’s name and feel like I’m failing.”
Except that’s a lie. I know the names of each one.
Eriu glances around. “Well, my sister should be?—”
“Saving the best for last,” comes a voice behind her, and Eriu instantly grins.
A woman steps forward, tall and striking, flipping her bright red hair past her slender shoulders. As she approaches, she does nothing to hide the holster around her thigh, clearly visible through the slit in her black gown like it’s part of the outfit.
“I’m Iseult Quinn, and this is my husband, Gio Marino.”
A tall man with dark eyes nods. “Nice to meet you.”
I know exactly who the Marinos are. They’re Italian Mafia, the ones who run the Messina crime family, one of the five families in New York.
And just behind them, the boss himself arrives: Michael Marino. Dark features, expensive suit, and the long scar on his right cheek only makes him that much more terrifying.
He gives me a firm handshake while his wife, Elsie, beams at me like this is a Hallmark movie.
“I’m sorry my brothers could not attend,” Michael says. “They sent a gift.”
“It was last-minute.” Aleksei throws a hand in the air. “We understand.”
Dinara leans into me while Aleksei talks to Michael. “You’re going to need a family tree when this is over.”
