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Draven gave me his knife and I pull it from my back pocket, pushing the button to flip the blade out.
“Before I can even think about giving you my dick, I have a question for you,” I murmur, dragging the flat end of the knife down her throat. Her eyes grow with fear because this is not her kink. I grab her wrists and slam them above her head against the marble column behind her. “Do you remember Alexa? The theatre girl we went to school with?”
“Why…why? Alastair, please!”
“She tried to kill my future wife and son,” I whisper in her ear, too low to be picked up by the phone. The recording is for me in case Reginald ever decides to fuck me over. I fully plan to cover my ass.
“Noor should have died,” she snarls. “You hid her, you sick son of a bitch! Alexa deserved to have her revenge. She went to prison! Did you think I wouldn’t recognize her from a photo? You can’t share her like a toy, Alastair. Nope is an abomination.”
“That’s not her name,” I hiss, pressing the point of the blade against her throat. “Isla is not Noor. I think you need to take your psych meds again, dear stepsister. When you stop there are…accidents. Remember the mess Dad had to clean up for you?”
I can feel Reginald’s cornflower blue eyes on me, but there’s not a hint of love for Kelsie. Instead of the weak, mild-mannered man he presented himself as, he’s watching the interaction unfold.
“What… You can’t tell Reggie about those,” Kelsie hisses. “I’ve been so good, I really have. I just gave Alexa a little nudge in the right direction.”
“Is Alexa the woman in prison you were writing to for your church group?” Reginald asks, pushing off the wall to come closer. I nearly scoff, because my stepsister is an atheist. “You said you were helping her with resources since she was meeting with the parole board soon. Was that a lie, dearest?”
Kelsie’s eyes widen with fear as she sees that she’s caught like a fly in my web.
“Reggie,” she breathes.
“Yes, I’m all ears,” he croons. “What I’m hearing is that my wife is very sick.”
Reading the change in the room, I put the knife away and pull a syringe filled with a sedative for Kelsie from my pocket instead.
“She is,” I agree. “I think she needs long term care where she’ll be well looked after, don’t you?”
Reginald cups Kelsie’s cheek and I don’t see any signs that she loves him. They’re both using each other.
“Why are the pretty ones always crazy?” he asks as I slide the needle into her throat. “Oh.”
Reginald wraps his arm around her waist as Kelsie’s eyes begin to flutter closed and he smiles softly at her.
“I promise to find you a nice mental institution to take care of you,” he whispers. “This’ll definitely get me some sympathy votes.”
“I knew you’d do what’s best for her,” I reply, putting away the syringe as I step away. “I will always protect my family.”
“And I protect myself,” he grunts, lifting her into his arms. “My grandfather will know exactly what to do with her. I should have listened to him, but she can always have an accident at the hospital. Goodbye.”
Inclining my head as I hear the threat for what it is, I walk back to the party to say my goodbyes to the governor. Reginald might think his family is scary, but Noor’s is much worse. I carry the scars on my back to always remember that.
ARRAN
A private beach wedding in La Jolla couldn’t be any more perfect for us, but first, I need to find my wife. I didn’t get to spend the night with her last night, and I’m dying to kiss her lips. I can’t wait forty-five minutes until she walks down the aisle. I am dying.
My fancy shoes pinch my toes as I walk through the boutique hotel to find my future wife. I have no idea how Ciaran, Draven, and Alastair haven’t lost their minds yet waiting. We’re going to be taking photos afterward, and then we’re staying at the wedding suite here while Noor’s family takes Zayn for a couple of days.
It’ll give us the ability to just be together before life creeps back in. Could we have waited until after hockey season was over to get married? Maybe, but none of us wanted to wait.
“Hey,” Jared walks over, mischief in his eyes. “Need to see her?”
“Yes,” I sigh. “Can I?”
“Yeah,” he says, putting a key card in my hand. “Room two twenty-five. She’s already taken a million photos and she’s been ready. She would be grateful to take a break. Maybe you can get her to eat something. She’s nervous.”
“Of us?” I ask, surprised.
“It’s a big day,” he shrugs. “Sometimes nerves are from excitement.”
