Anya is in the middle of it. Smiling. Laughing about something Lorcan did. Leaning into Katya's shoulder to look at photos on a phone screen. She fits. That's the thing that keeps catching me off guard. She walked into this house two days ago as a stranger, and she's already woven herself into the fabric of it like she's been here all along.
I watch it from the edges, the way I watch most things, and I let myself have the small, stupid hope that maybe this is going to work.
But work doesn't stop for weddings. Not in this family.
I'm in the study Liam gave me as a temporary office, going through accounts from the Dublin operation I left behind, when my phone buzzes. It's Declan, my second in Dublin, and the message is short enough that I know it's bad before I read it.
Baron's people hit the pub on Grafton Street. Smashed the place up. Left a message. "The Orlovs take what isn't theirs. So will we."
I stare at the screen.
The pub on Grafton Street is one of ours. A front, mostly, running clean money through the taps to wash what comes in from other channels. It's small. It's not important in the grand scheme of things. And that's exactly why the Baron chose it. He's not trying to hurt us. He's trying to send a message. He's poking, prodding, testing how far he can push before we push back.
I call Declan.
"How bad?"
"Windows, furniture, the back office. They tossed the place but didn't take anything. Made sure the staff saw their faces." Declan's voice is tight. "This is a statement, Connor. He wants us to know he can reach us."
"He can reach a pub. He can't reach us."
"Maybe not. But if he starts hitting more of our businesses here, the lads are going to want to respond, and I can't hold them off forever."
"Hold them off for now. I'll talk to Liam."
I hang up and sit there for a minute, turning the phone over in my hand. The Baron is doing exactly what Liam predicted.He can't challenge the marriage directly, not with the Council already processing the Agapov alliance, so he's going to chip away at the edges. Hit our businesses. Cause enough noise that the Council starts asking questions. Make it expensive to be the family that took his prize.
And it's only going to get worse after Saturday.
I look at the phone one more time, then put it down and head for the kitchen. Liam needs to know about Grafton Street, but it can wait until after lunch. Right now, I want to walk through the chaos of the main floor and find Anya in the middle of it and see if she smiles when she sees me coming.
She's been doing that. Smiling when I walk into a room. Small and quick, like she's trying not to let me see it, but I see it every time, and every time it lands somewhere in my chest that I didn't know was still soft.
Tomorrow she will be my wife.
Anya
"No, the hydrangeas go on the end tables, not the altar. The altar gets the peonies." Katya points her fork at Grace without looking up from her waffles. "We talked about this."
"We talked about roses on the altar."
"We scrapped the roses. Keep up."
I'm sitting cross-legged on the living room floor surrounded by fabric swatches and ribbon samples and a catalog from a florist in town that Grace has bookmarked with color-coded tabs, and I can't stop smiling.
Tomorrow I'm marrying a man I met on Tuesday night, and instead of terror, I feel something warm and bright sitting in my chest like sunlight through a window. It's insane. The whole thing is insane. And I don't care.
Tanya is on the sofa beside Iris, scrolling through her phone with the calm focus of someone who has done this before. "The priest is confirmed for tomorrow afternoon. Three o'clock. He's discreet. Liam vetted him personally."
"Liam vets everyone personally," Iris mutters. "He vetted the florist. He vetted the baker. He probably vetted the ribbons."
"He did," Grace says cheerfully. "He wanted to make sure they weren't flammable."
"That's not..." Iris pauses. "Actually, that tracks."
Katya finishes her waffle and leans back, one hand resting on her belly. "Okay, we've got flowers, priest, food, music. What about the dress?" She looks at me. "Please tell me you have something and I don't need to perform a miracle in twenty-four hours."
My stomach drops a little, because the truth is I don't have anything. I left my home with my coat and my car keys and not much else. I don't have clothes here beyond what Iris has lent me, let alone a wedding dress.
