Page 141 of An Inevitable Marriage

Squeezing my eyes shut, I willed my mind away from the memory. It didn’t take much effort for a new image to form. Dark hair, green eyes, and the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen.

It was so vivid, it was as if she stood in front of me, giving me the courage to do what needed to be done. With a deep breath, I held on to that, on to her, and pushed my way into the library.

“Evening, Grandfather.”

I’d caught the fucker with his hand down his pants while he stared at heaven only knew what on the laptop screen in front of him. I had half a mind to snap a picture and hold it over his head like he’d done regarding my indiscretions.

But I wasn’t like him.

“How the fuck did you get in here?” he bellowed as he frantically shut the computer and fastened his pants. “Well?”

I shrugged. “Does the how matter more than the why?”

“Fine. I’ll play your little game,” he sneered. “Why are you here?”

Slowly moving closer to his desk, I made a show of looking around. “I can’t help but notice Shane’s absence. Didn’t you get him out of jail?”

My grandfather narrowed his eyes. “What did you do?”

“As of about an hour ago, your dearest grandson was taken into custody yet again. His bail was revoked, and his one phone call never materialized.” Bracing my fingers on the edge of his desk, I leaned forward. “No amount of money you throw at the system will help him now. I’ve made sure of it. He’ll pay for putting his filthy fucking hands on my wife.”

The old bastard threw his head back and laughed heartily. “Oh, that’s rich,” he said when he finally caught his breath. “You’re throwing a hissy fit because Shane gave her what she asked for. You can’t possibly believe he’d seek out a woman like that on his own accord. She offered it on a silver platter.” He, too, leaned forward. “Because that’s what fat whores do.”

I didn’t think. My hand shot out, and I curled my fingers around his tie. With one hard yank, I pulled him over the desk until our faces were mere inches apart.

“I swore I’d never lift my hands in anger again, but if you keep talking aboutmy wifelike that, I’ll gladly make a fucking exception.” My grip on his tie tightened and tightened until his face turned an angry shade of red.

Roughly letting him go, I straightened and smoothed my palm down the front of my shirt.

“Before you remind me that I am indeed my father’s son, remember that I let you live. I did not murder you in cold blood like he did my mother, and I didn’t cover it up with my filthy money like you did.”

My grandfather loosened his tie and tugged it from his neck before dropping it to the floor. “You’ve been singing that same sad song all your life, and yet you’re unable to prove any of it.”

“I know what I saw!” I yelled. “And you know it, too. He phoned you right after he strangled my mother and beat the shit out of me. And you were all too fucking happy to cover it up.”

I didn’t know what I’d expected, but it sure as shit wasn’t for him to laugh like a maniacal fuck.

“My son was a moron. If he’d done the job properly, there wouldn’t have been a body to begin with. Nevertheless, he was my son, and I wasn’t about to tarnish my name by having the public label him as a wife-beating murderer. So yes, I covered it up, and when the idiot somehow grew a conscience from all his drinking and wanted to confess to the police, I showed him how to do it properly.”

My jaw dropped. “You were responsible for his accident?”

“If by responsible you mean: did I pay the truck driver to run him over…” He shrugged. “Then yes, I guess I am.”

Funny how I couldn’t bring myself to mourn the loss of my father, even now knowing he’d at some point regretted it, I just couldn’t.

“You’re a bastard,” I told him, already backing away. “This game you’re playing? It’s done. So fucking done. You will stay away from me and, most importantly, from my wife. I have no desire to dirty my hands, but for you,dear grandfather, I will.”

Spinning on my heel, I marched out of his study and out of his house, feeling much lighter than I had walking in.

Chapter forty

Liam

Thehousewasdark,and I wasn’t sure if Snow had fallen asleep or was trying to set the mood. I found my answer when I entered the living room and found her sleeping on the couch with her open book splayed across her chest.

Taking the book, I took a peek at what she’d read before sleep had claimed her. My gaze darted over the words, eagerly taking them in. The more I read, the more my eyebrows rose, and the hotter my blood burned.

The characters on the page might have been fantastical, with pointy ears and magic powers, but we seemed to find ourselves in somewhat the same situation.