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"Bring her out like a doll when needed?" Ronan says. His tone is always flat and hard to interpret.

"She'll need cleaning up, but your mother will handle that," Dario adds.

"Cleaning up?" War says, sounding confused. What, is War suddenly a parrot? "Don't ask this of me. Anything else but this."

"No, you've forced my hand. It's time you settled down. You want to take over?"

"You know I do." That’s all he cares about. Why I thought differently is my own mistake.

"Then this is that last piece." I take another few steps backward before I turn and take off.

The tears burn in my eyes. I place the flowers on the kitchen island as I head back out through the patio. I can’t go home right now. My mom will see my face, and she will know I’m upset. She wasn’t a fan of this whole thing from the beginning, and seeing me this way will only make her feel worse.

I head toward the pond on the east side of the estate. It’s where I always go when I need to think. I don’t stop running until I make it to the dock. I swipe at my cheeks.

I’m such a stupid, silly girl. I shake my head at myself. How did I let myself get carried away with excitement over this marriage stuff? Now I really get how upset my mom is. She and Dad are hopelessly in love. I have always wanted a love like that. Mom knows I won’t get that with War.

I’ve let my imagination get away from me when it comes to him. The man never really talked to me, and I made up this whole story in my head that maybe he liked me the same way I did him. I drop down to sit on the dock and let myself cry.

I need to get it out. To have this moment and then harden myself for what’s to come because if I know anything, it’s that the Marino family always gets what they want. It doesn’t matter if you owe them or not. My parents never had a chance.

Neither do I.

Chapter Four

WARREN

Does he know? I eye my father as he stands to leave. “This could have been an email,” Z mutters, annoyed he was pulled away from his own office. He lives and breathes his computer. Our father has no idea the things Z can do, but I might be wrong. He may be paying better attention to what's going on than I thought. Even being over in Europe, he seems to still be in the know.

“It’s good for you to get out.” Father straightens his tie. “Maybe you need a wife next.”

“Fuck that.” Z stands.

“The Sullivans did try and talk me into marrying her to you instead.” I watch the blood drain from Z’s face while I fight my own reaction.

They would rather Tova marry Z than me. I can't say I blame them, but that is never fucking happening. The thought alone has me fisting my hands at my sides. I quickly release them, remembering that my father is more perceptive than I thought.

"I'm not War; I'll bounce the fuck out of here," Z warns.

"We'll see," our father says before strolling from my office. Ronan was smart to keep his mouth firmly shut.

“He’s really doing this shit.” Z shakes his head. “I’m not getting fucking married.” Ronan grunts in agreement. None of us should be getting married. While I’m trying to clean things up, it doesn't mean that we still don’t have enemies. History just doesn’t erase all of the ones we’ve made.

My own father knows this firsthand. He went through it years ago when our mother was taken. I was fifteen at the time, but I’ll never forget those two days. The worry and fear I felt that I would never see her again. They knew where to strike to get my father’s full attention.

It worked too. I always knew my father loved our mother, but I hadn’t understood how deeply. Gone was the greatly feared Dario once she was kidnapped. I didn’t recognize my father for those two days. It changed all of our lives.

It taught me all I needed to know about this lifestyle. Loving someone means you have a weakness. That your enemies have something to use against you. I vowed long ago that I would never be put in that position.

“You need anything?” Ronan asks. I shake my head, not sure how I’m going to handle this. Ronan nods, knocking on my desk twice before turning to leave himself.

“Is there something you need to tell me?” My attention swings to my youngest brother.

“What?” he asks, looking confused by my question. I study his expression. Why had Tova’s parents rather her marry him? Does she have a crush on him?

“Is there something going on with you and fucking Tova?” Z’s brows rise, but he doesn’t answer the damn question. I slam my hand down on my desk. “Answer the question.”

“Holy shit, man.” Z puts his hands up, stepping back. “No, I talk to the girl occasionally. She’s sweet.”