Page 17 of Arranged Control

She sighs, drying a plate and putting it away. “You’ve barely talked about the wedding. Did you see the plans I sent you?”

“I took note of an email, but somehow it went to spam.”

“Convenient. For you, not for me.”

“What’s it matter?” I look at the water, avoiding her gaze as I clean, keeping my hands busy. “One wife’s like any other.”

“But this one’s pretty. Your dad showed me her Instagram profile.”

“Dad knows how to use Instagram?”

“He fumbled his way through.” She touches my arm lightly. “I heard about what you did to that boyfriend of hers.”

I grimace, staring down at the counter. “That was impulsive.”

“Story of your life.”

My jaw grinds. I can see that Alex prick all over again. I wasn’t going to bother the bastard, at least until one of my soldiers mentioned he was in a Whelan family drug house, one of the places my people control. I couldn’t help myself then. My future wife’s boyfriend getting high? Dick in the mouth of some toothless meth whore? Too juicy to ignore.

Shouldn’t have fucking done it.

“I was a real bastard to her. We talked that night.” I glance up at her before drying my hands. “I doubt she’s checking your emails about the wedding either.”

Mom lets out the sigh of a woman long aggrieved by her dickhead son. “What’d you do?”

“The usual.” I get another beer and crack it. “And here we are.”

She studies me. I do my best to gaze back, keeping my expression neutral. Dad might sit at the top of my pyramid, but Mom’s the whole base. She keeps us all going, and she’s the sharpest too. There’s no hiding anything from Siobhan Whelan.

“The wedding is going to be small and rushed,” she says finally, which is a huge relief. I really don’t want to talk about that night. Least of all with my mother.

“That’s fine by me. My two favorite traits in a wedding.”

“But I’m not sure it’ll be fine byher.”

I gesture with my beer can. “Why would it matter?”

“She’s a bratva princess, Seamus. I’m guessing she has certain ideas and expectations about her special day.”

“It’s an arrangement. She’ll get over it.”

Mom’s expression darkens. “She’s your futurewife. You want to keep her happy.”

I hear Alina’s moans in my head. I see her bliss-filled face as her eyes roll back. “I doubt I’m capable.”

“Step up. And go talk to her.”

“Why me?”

“You shouldn’t have to ask that question.” She whips me lightly with a kitchen towel. “Make sure your wife knows what to expect, okay? And bend over backwards to meet any demands she might make. Keep the girl happy.”

I look up at the ceiling.God, I’d fucking love to bend her over backward…

“I’ll do my best.”

“That’s my boy.” She pats my face lightly. “Now finish cleaning up. And stop being late to dinner. I’m going to keep Bianca company.”

She fishes a soda water from the refrigerator and heads out to the den.