I caught her wrists.
She drew in a shaky breath. A smile tipped the corner of my mouth, and I tugged her further onto my lap. If it wasn’t for the damn white dress, I would have made her straddle my thighs. Without the frothy white material, her center would land directly over my aching cock.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze.
I stooped, bringing our faces close. “You’re very brave giving me orders.”
I was going for fear, but the throaty gasp sent another lightning bolt of need straight from root to tip. My dick throbbed painfully.
The moment shattered when a thick brogue rang out, declaring he was going to make a speech. The drunken fool. Johny didn’t have anything good to say about me, especially in this state. He would likely bring up his dead brother, which wasn’t wedding conversation material. Luckily, he was close to the head table, and the crowd was too boisterous to hear his bleating.
With Connor gone, there was no one close enough to stop him.
I’m going to fecking kill him.
This piece of gobshite was going to make me get up and leave my bride to deal with his dumb arse.
Unbelievable.
I should kill him.
Before he could stagger to a microphone, I pushed Gabriella roughly off my lap, and in three quick strides, I grabbed my second cousin, letting my gloved fingers sink into his collarbone. He bowed under the pressure I applied to the nerve.
“Walk,” I barked. He was going to pay for interrupting the moment with my bride.
If only Da hadn’t repeatedly instructed me that no blood was to be unnecessarily shed.
We attracted little attention as we pushed into the hall—where Connor was in a bloody fist fight.
More of the pack had joined. A half dozen assailants swamped my best friend. Connor threw a wicked left hook, which made the eejits face ripple. The man staggered back.
I picked Johny up by the back of his jacket and tossed him forward. Pulling my gun, I pointed at the ceiling. The pop-pop silenced the lot.
“Give me one good reason not to put a bullet in each of your fecking faces?” I barked.
They deserved it too. I just needed a reason convincing enough for my father to condone the bloodshed.
“Um, boss?” One of my men pointed at me.
The skin at the base of my neck prickled. I turned, already knowing what I’d find. Wide, warm eyes stared at me.
My little bride had followed me.
Gabriella didn’t flinch or cower by the partially open door. She stood tall. Her back was ramrod straight. She scanned the scene, then slid her gaze back to mine. There was no anger. Not a drop of fear. Maybe it was mild curiosity, but that was it.
“When you’re done, we need to cut the cake,” Gabriella said smoothly.
She didn’t balk at the violence. Didn’t quake at the sight of me with a gun drawn on my men.
Fuck me.
My little wife wasn’t afraid of monsters.
Clearing my throat, I turned and gave Connor a clipped nod.
“We’ll handle it, Liam.” The brute tipped his neck. It gave a vicious crack.
On my way back into the ballroom, I flicked my fingers. A few able-bodied blokes, who I trusted enough and who hadn’t been drinking heavily, jogged into the hall for back up. The brawlwasn’t what I minded. It was the undercurrent of violence that simmered like a fog, ready to smother us.
