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CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Griffin

With the wedding receptionwinding down, the guys I love and trust the most move to an outdoor patio, right beyond the ballroom’s French doors that have been opened thanks to the warm summer night.

“Where are you going on your honeymoon?” Trace asks me, puffing on a cigar.

My throat goes tight. “I didn’t plan a honeymoon.”

“Why not?” my cousin shrieks.

“Because it was an arranged marriage.” As I say that, it feels like a lie. “What about you? Have you knocked up Shea yet?”

Trace drills me with a pensive look. “Shea can’t have children.”

My jaw drops. “Oh, shite. I’m sorry, mate. I didn’t know.”

“No worries. I loved her so much, it didn’t matter. In fact...” He leans in. “I’m getting clipped to make us even, so I can’t have kids either. We’re very happy that it’s just us.”

I think about my mother and how happy she looked today. She knows this is an arranged marriage, but she’s expecting more grandbabies. Suddenly, this deal Ava and I made to divorce in six months tastes sour in my mouth.

But she only softened to me because I’m giving her an out.

Ares struts over to us, still suited up, tie perfectly knotted around his tight throat. And us brats have discarded our jackets and my tie sits in a pocket. He’s so prim and proper, but he’s a second son like me who found himself a boss and in charge of a house embroiled in a war he never expected.

Yet, his power as the head of the Greek Mafia hums off him. I see no cracks in his armor. Do I look that way? Do my people see me as their king in the same flawless manner?

“The wedding is wrapping up,” Ares announces in his haughty British accent.

I catch Luke Hart, the hotel’s CEO, opening the ballroom doors toward the lobby so he can get as many people out of here as quickly as possible. He’s my brother-in-law’s brother, and I’m not sure what that makes us, other than extended family.

All that matters is that Luke and his other brother Tristan adore my sister and consider her one of them. She hastheirname now. She’s a Hart.

And Ava is a Quinlan.

Luke, the declared king of this hotel, saunters up to me. “Who do I send the bill to? We’re rounding midnight.”

“I thought we were family?” I counter low and deadly just to scare the shit out of the grumpy CEO.

“Wearefamily.” Grayson joins us looking suave in a light gray suit with an open plum dress shirt underneath. “I got this covered for you, Griffin.”

“Grayson...” I stand and cup his shoulder. “Let’s have dinner next week. I don’t expect you to pay for my wedding.”

The guyisa billionaire. I don’t even know how much fucking money I have. Kai’s been sending financial statements to Shane.

“We cantalkabout it.” Grayson Hart has pride like me. “Sabine retired upstairs to our penthouse. She was wiped out.”

“That brat and her ole’ Irish exit,” Shane mocks his twin.

Considering how big Sabine is carrying Grayson’s kid, I’m surprised she could walk at all.

“I’ll call her tomorrow,” I say.

Grayson nudges me. “Won’t you be on your honeymoon?”