“I don’t want that dirty money,” I hiss.
“One step at a time,” Rhys says and kisses my forehead.
But Griffin cuts in. “And that first step is I insist you and Rhys get married. It’s for your protection, Fallon.”
“From who? If my father is dead…” I stare at Rhys. “Kosta? He’s dead too, right?”
Worried looks fly around the room. “Kosta’s last name was Orlov. But he was really a Volkov. He’s a son of the head of the New York City Bratva. An old man with not many years left.”
Heat soars through me. “And you killed him.”
“Shane made the entire ordeal look like a horrible accident,” Rhys says. “Your marriage to Kosta was supposed to bring your father into the Bratva. Your father was staying independent to secure an exclusive contract with the Volkovs. But they won’t retaliate. Not over a man who failed. The Bratva buries its mistakes.”
“And you still want to marry me, Rhys?” I ask, heart stuttering.
He hates being told what to do. He hates being cornered. Instead, he smiles. His arms hold me closer, his breath brushes my ear.
“It’s what I want, Fallon, because I love you.” He squeezes my hand and smiles. “Will you marry me? We can get rings later. I’ll ask you at the ice rink, the ornament store, your garden, anywhere. I’m sorry this isn’t?—”
“Yes.” The word bursts out of me, wild and bright. “Yes, I’ll marry you!”
His grin is slow and soft and dangerous all at once.
“Today?” I ask, worried because a wedding is not on the calendar.
But I have to learn to be spontaneous. Go with the flow.
Rhys shakes his head, then brushes a kiss against my hair. “No. I want you to put it on your whiteboard and plan a nice wedding for us.” A maddening smile tugs at his mouth. “Do you have any ideas of what you’d like?”
A flurry of ideas bombards me. My brain cranks ahead, already racing through dresses and flowers and table settings. It all pours in faster than I can catch them. My palms itch for my markers and glitter tabs.
“I sure do.”
He laughs under his breath and hugs me tighter. “I have a feeling a very chaotic whiteboard is in my future.”
“Let’s leave them alone,” Trace says, steering Raina and Griffin out the front door.
Except, the guards have to stay. It’s for my protection.
It all fades away until there’s only Rhys, his sexy accent, and his golden eyes locked with mine.
“I can’t wait for that future to start, Fallon,” he whispers. “With you. Only you.”
Just like that, the panic, the drugs, the cold cells, and the silence of poinsettias all vanish.
No one will ever silence or hurt me again.
Epilogue
Rhys
The invitation from Ares Zervas came hand-delivered by a bloke who waited for my reply. Okay, I got a late invite. But hundreds of people are at his New Year’s Eve party. It’s on the roof of a Gothic revival missions building.
He purchased it last year, and it’s the new seat of their growing and consolidated Mafia power.
The only reason I’m here is that my cousins and brother are all here, too.
I was told it was mandatory because we are aligned with the Greeks.
