“Da––”
“Or,” he adds, “he falls into a shallow gravesomewhere out there.”
I freeze when he waves a hand to the farmland surrounding us, where only cattle graze.
“The Viacavas are your future, Tierney Blake,” he says, already turning away. “This is the beginning of a new life. Protection for Connor. And vows that bind us permanently to that powerful family.”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Because somewhere between Belfast and Bucharest, and that goddamn elevator ride with Bronx, I lost whatever control I thought I had over my life.
“You leave tonight,” he says over his shoulder. “I’ll come with you to the airfield. Gimme five minutes.”
“Six months,” I snap, fists clenched. “I’ll do six months so we can clear Connor. Then I’m getting a divorce.”
6
BRONX
I told Kingston I’d come up with a plan to fix the whole Blake heist shit show.
But I’m still coming up empty as I walk into Kingston's office on Tuesday morning for our Tuesday morning briefing. He’s not at his desk, though. He stands at the window, glaring at the city below with his spine stiff and jaw set.
“Congratulations,” he says without turning around. “You're getting married.”
I stop dead just inside the doorway. “I'm what?”
He lets out a sigh. “In a few days. It’ll be a courthouse ceremony. Simple, quick, and legal.” He finally turns, and his expression is carved from granite. “Tierney Blake will be your wife in four days.”
What the fuck?
“How the fuck does that help us? And how could you make a marriage deal without talking to me first?” Kingston raises an eyebrow at my tone, but I don't give a shit about diplomacy right now. “I told you I'dfigure out a way to?—"
“But you didn’t. So Declan Blake figured it out for us.” Kingston walks to his desk and drops into his chair like he's carrying the weight of the family on his shoulders. Which, to be fair, he usually is. “He called this morning at six. Woke my ass up to deliver his ultimatum.”
I sink into the chair across from him, my brain rattling with questions. “What kind of ultimatum?”
“The kind that doesn't leave any room for negotiation. You marry his daughter, or he releases every piece of intel Tierney stole.”
He scrubs his hand down the front of his face.
“And they have documents that can crush us for good. Financial records, operational details, names of every politician and judge we own. All of it. He threatened to post them online, send them to the FBI, distribute them to every rival family from here to Sicily.”
My jaw drops. Our entire empire, exposed. Decades of careful relationship-building, destroyed. The kind of leak that doesn't just hurt business. It ends bloodlines.
“He had us by the balls,” Kingston continues. “I had thirty seconds to give him an answer before the old bastard hung up and started uploading files.”
“So you said yes to a marriage without asking the groom.”
His eyes flash, ire sparking in his hard gaze. “I said yes to keeping this family alive. The rest are details we can work out later.”
I sink into a chair, defeat leaking out of me like I’m a goddamn popped balloon. Part of me is furious that he just rearranged my entire life without a heads-up. But the strategic part of my brain is already spinning, seeing all the angles, recognizing the opportunity that just fell into my lap.
“Smart move by Declan,” I say finally. “Desperate, but smart. He knows we can't refuse without destroying ourselves, and marriage ties give him exactly what he needs - our protection. The Tribunal won’t touch Connor if he’s connected to us by marriage.”
“Exactly. And it gives us the access we need to recover our stolen intel and ensure there are no more surprises.” Kingston’s expression holds a sliver of sympathy. “I know this isn't how you wanted to handle it, but?—"
“Nah, it's a perfect plan.”
His jaw drops. “You’re serious.”
