Look, I realize that chemistry isn’t a necessity for an arranged marriage, but hear me out. The first time I saw Taryn Walsh our freshman year, I tripped over my own feet. The first time I tried to talk to her, I nearly choked on my own spit. The first time I finally worked up the nerve to hit on her, she rolled her eyes and walked away. And the first time we really talked, well, we really talked. She didn’t give me those fluttery eyes and fake giggles, like most girls do. We had an honest-to-God conversation—a debate about gun control of all things. I was hooked. I loved her attitude, her intelligence, her gorgeous face. We were at a pool party. I was surrounded by girls in tiny bikinis vying for my attention. Yet, it was in talking to a fully clothed Taryn that I felt the spark.
I mean, if my father is going to force me to get married, why shouldn’t there be a spark? I had no issue pushing Gráinne toward the Italian hulk who eventually became her fiancé, all while whispering in a few ears that there was another solution to this alliance we all need. I spent months planting that seed, letting others think they were responsible for its roots. I have no desire to get married this soon, but hell, if it’s going to happen? I’ll make damn sure I’m the one who decides who will be walking down that aisle.
So, no. I’m not answering Gráinne’s calls. She can try to convince me all she wants that her friend shouldn’t be strong-armed into marriage. Hell, I can even admit she’s right. Life isn’t fair. Especially the life we were born into. Yet, the more I think about climbing into bed every night with the redheaded beauty, the more the idea is growing on me. Although I’ve never cared much for the idea of monogamy, I’m eager to give this girl all of my time. Wait. Notthis girl. My fiancée.
My fiancée. Shit. I never thought I’d have cause to use that phrase in relation to myself. But, my father insists that I’ve “done enough sleeping around.” I don’t disagree, although I didn’t tell him that. Itisgetting old. He also informed me it’s high time I “take the world more seriously.” As if getting engaged will magically turn me into an asshole like him or make me value the same things he does.
I know that I’ll never be the man my father wants me to be, but I came to terms with that a long time ago. It is what it is. I’ve learned to control what I can. So, I didn’t argue. Hell, I never argue. Instead, I focused on how to get what I want behind the scenes. It’s where I do my best work. So, yes, I manipulated the situation because I honestly believe that Taryn and I can be happy together. Granted, I don’t know everything about her, but I can’t wait to learn it all. Sometimes, you just know. I can feel it in my gut when I look at her. Well, there and other places.
“Can I get another round of half and halfs?” Danny, my best friend and college roommate, asks the bartender as he drains the last of his black and tan.
We arrived back on campus earlier today. And, when we realized St. Agnes had absolutely nothing going on since everyone is still enjoying the last weekend of winter break, we headed over to the closest club, just outside the city. The university sits far enough away to be its own little refuge, yet it’s close enough to the city that a quick trip gives you access to all of its vices. I admit, I’ve experienced my fair share of those vices since I came to St. A’s. I swear, there are a million clubs in New York, but they are all the fucking same. Loud music. Drunk college students. Easy sex. The smell of sweat and spilled beer. Christ, I already miss the Loop and its cozy pubs. I’ll take the Windy City over the Big Apple any day.
“Do you expect the Italians to intervene?” Danny whispers in my ear while drumming his fingers on the bar, waiting impatiently for his next drink.
I shrug. “They don’t seem to be helping Rowan much.” I consider my next words. “The Family has some sort of arrangement with the Greeks. It’s likely they’ll just stay out of the way.”
The Greek mob is causing problems. In Chicago. In New York. They are united across cities, and unfortunately, we Irish are not. Not yet anyway. Girls are going missing from our clubs. Drug shipments are being stolen. They are close to making a move to increase their territory. After all, they don’t need the drugs or the girls. They need our weakness. And they are surprisingly well funded. The Italians aren’t doing anything to stop them, so Rowan’s alliance with The Family isn’t helping. Remaining neutral is the Italians’ way of showing support. Or so I’m told.
“Hi.” A small shoulder brushes against mine, and I look to my right.
I nod at the pretty girl with the fuck-me eyes who is biting her bottom lip, leaning against the bar. I give her a panty-melting smile before thinking twice. Habit.
She skims a finger around the rim of her cocktail glass. Encouraged, she leans closer. “I, um, haven’t seen you here before.”
I hold back a sigh. She’s good-looking enough, but I refrain from running my eyes over the rest of her body. I briefly consider whether I want to hook up with this one. I’m not engaged yet, so technically, no one could blame me.
I reach for the drink that’s being handed to me. Yeah. It’s not going to happen. Given that a certain redhead has been occupying my every thought lately, the pretty brunette isn’t doing it for me. Besides, I’m sick of all the games. They seem to be never ending despite the efforts I make to be brutally honest with every single one-night stand. I am always clear that it’s just sex. They always agree. Only a few mean it though, and those are the girls I’ve slept with more than once. Unfortunately, most put on a show. They think if they are wild and loud, I’ll want to see them again. Personally, I find ear-splitting screams and being called “Daddy” to be annoying as fuck. I always make sure they have a good time, but I hate cutting through unnecessary theatrics to figure out what a girl really likes. Sex shouldn’t be an audition. I wish someone would tell them that giving great head doesn’t make them special. And I have no idea why, but most of them want to be special. Hell, I just want to have a good time. A mutual, but brief, good time. Do I sound like an asshole? Probably.
I wonder what Taryn is up to tonight. There’s no doubt: she fascinates me. I find myself not only dreaming about her body—she’s starred ina lotof my favorite fantasies—but also about what makes her tick. The girl who argued that we need more stringent gun laws. I chuckle, thinking about the look on her face when I told her I agreed. When I explained my theory that cutting off the legitimate supply would only give more control to organized crime, I thought she was going to hit me. I almost wish she had tried. Jesus, she gets my blood pumping.
The girl next to me huffs when I give her my back and return to the conversation with my boys. I’m sure after the wide smile that crossed my face, I’ve confused her. Eh. Not my issue. I can’t help that I’ve become a little obsessed lately. My life is about to change. It’s a lot to take in.
“You turning her down?” Danny asks as the brunette with the pouty lips saunters away. “Damn. You still have one last night of freedom.” He watches her ass as she sulks away.
It doesn’t matter. It never matters. A blonde sidles up to replace her. I give her a polite nod and return to the guys.
“You know he has a big day tomorrow, right? He doesn’t need to be up late, fucking around,” Aidan grumbles at Danny. My brother doesn’t start at St. A’s until next fall, yet he’s joining the rest of our family for the reception that will be held to announce my engagement tomorrow. His fake ID helped him get into the club with us tonight.
Danny chuckles. “Ah, see? Maybe you shouldn’t try to keep up with the legal adults, Aid.”
Aidan grabs Danny in a chokehold and gives him a noogie, while I pull back from the bar so my drink doesn’t get caught up in their horseplay. I’m the oldest of four boys, which is how I am certain that they’ll end up rolling on the floor before too long if I don’t stop them. I’m also well aware that Aidan hates to lose.
“What’s your big day tomorrow?” the blonde asks me, ignoring the boys grappling on the other side of me. She doesn’t even pretend she wasn’t eavesdropping.
I raise a finger to tell her to hold on, then set my drink away from the action before grabbing my brother by the waist. Danny laughs, running his hands through his messed-up hair, as I pull my bullheaded brother off of him.
“Jesus, Aidan,” I grunt. Kid’s gotten heavier through his training. To my surprise, he smiles at me instead of getting annoyed.
“You’re getting married,” my brother laughs, a touch glassy-eyed. “Christ, Liam.” He shakes his head as if it just hit him. Yeah. I don’t think he needs another beer.
“You’re getting married?” The girl by my side makes a sound between a screech and a gasp. “Oh! Is this, like, a last night to, like, sow your wild oats or whatever?” Her eyes are wide and she pushes her tits into my arm.Sow my wild oats?What the fuck? Girls say the most messed-up shit sometimes. I chuckle as she runs her hand up my chest. Pushy little thing.
“I dunno. What’s the over/under on how long it takes your bride to run away screaming?” Danny jokes, drawing my attention again.
“Hmmm… I give her a week.” My turncoat brother snickers.
“Eh, I say two days tops.” Fantastic. Even my best friend doubts me.
