It's the truth. I have only seen Dáire Delaney a handful of times in the past year. I’ve been with her at all the Syndicate functions, at our engagement party, and any occasions where we were required to be together and perform as an engaged couple. But during those few times, we barely said more than a few words to one another.
"Ronan?" My father hisses.
"It would seem," Ronan seethes, "that my daughter and Rurik have been seeing each other."
Rurik. Of course it's that fucking prick. I don't react. I remember what my father taught me, never show any emotion, don't let your enemy know what you're thinking and right now, Ronan is very much my enemy.
Rurik Morozov. God, that motherfucker. I remember our engagement party, how Dáire had disappeared for a while and now thinking back, Rurik was nowhere to be seen either.
"How long?" my father asks.
"From what I've gathered," Ronan says, jaw tight, "it's been going on for over a year. Since before the engagement was even announced."
My breath catches but I control it in the same instant, but not fast enough. I hear it happen. A single sharp intake.
Before the engagement. Before Ronan and my father sat across a table and agreed to our names. Before I stood in a meeting room with the other Syndicate families and accepted this as my duty. Before any of it was formal or sealed or spoken aloud.
Before everything.
Which means while negotiations were being conducted, while I was being told who I would marry and when, Dáire Delaney had already made a different decision. She had already chosen. She was already somewhere with Rurik Morozov, already building something, and the engagement we announced to the entire Syndicate was never anything more than a structure she was enduring until she could find a way out of it.
I was a political cover. I was the name on a contract for a deal she had already refused to honor.
They made me the fool before I even knew I was playing.
I hold my face still. I hold my hands still. I look at the wall just past Ronan's shoulder and I breathe.
"And what do you propose we do about this situation?" my father asks. His voice is deceptively even. I recognize that evenness. It means he is angrier than he is showing.
Ronan straightens. "I believe the only honorable course is to dissolve the engagement between Lorenzo and Dáire. And to arrange a new union between Dáire and Rurik."
I process it, quickly, logically. It is the only solution that holds. A pregnancy changes every arrangement on the table. Dáire cannot marry me. The Syndicate doesn't accommodate that kind of complication and neither does the alliance structure. The engagement dissolves, Dáire marries Rurik, the Morozov family absorbs the fallout.
It’s clean, it’s practical, and it costs me nothing, except for looking the fool and that’s the part I won’t forget.
"And what of the agreement between our families?" my father asks.
Ronan exhales slowly. "I propose we shift the arrangement. My younger daughter, Quinn, is of marriageable age now. Perhaps she could be a suitable match for Lorenzo?"
Quinn.
I know the name, and I have seen her at some of the Syndicate events over the years. She's the younger Delaney daughter, eighteen, barely of age. She's quiet, from what I remember. I can't seem to recall what she looks like. Then again, does it really matter? I'm going to marry her no matter what. Besides, everyone will know exactly what she is. A replacement bride. One Delaney daughter for another. The Syndicate needs the alliance. The alliance requires the marriage. Quinn is eighteen and available. That's all there is to it.
My father turns to look at me. His jaw is set, and his lips pull into a thin line. He's beyond pissed. Everyone will be talking about this for a long time and it makes not only us but the entire Syndicate look bad. Dáire and Rurik have brought even more scrutiny to us. Our enemies are always looking for ways to get to us and having those two fuck up something that was suppose to strengthen the ties between us shows just how fucked up this Syndicate is.
Do they not realize the full depth of what the Harringtons did?
"Lorenzo?" My father calls, his voice cold but my name comes out as a question. The truth is, I have no actual choice here but my agreement needs to be spoken aloud.
I take a breath, trying hard not to grit my teeth. "If that's what's best for the family and the Syndicate," I say evenly. "I'll agree to it."
My father's eyes glow with pride for a brief moment before they return to normal. I know that he thinks I'm handling this with exceptional composure just as he raised me to do.
I'm doing my damn job. I'm Cesare Mariano's firstborn and heir to the famiglia. I'll do whatever it takes for my family. La famiglia è tutto. Family is everything.
My father and Ronan start to discuss tomorrow's meeting, how they'll tell the other families, along with how the public announcement gets managed. What spin the Syndicate can put on it to limit damage. How Rurik and Dáire's wedding won't be a spectacle as it would have been had they not disgraced the families, but instead, they'll marry within the next month. It'll be a quiet and quick wedding without any fuss.
My mind continues to whirl. Rurik, that motherfucker, knew damn well what he was doing. He was silent, let the date and engagement go ahead, while he and Dáire were fucking around. It's not that part that bothers me, it's the part where he could have made it known he wanted to marry her and that could have happened. Instead, they went about it behind everyone's back and now look at where we are. Fucked.
