Page 62 of Brutal Vows

He doesn’t look at me, but I sense a huge change in him from when we last spoke. He’s glowering and agitated, drumming his fingers restlessly on the tabletop, a thundercloud of temper settled over his features.

Honestly, the man should see a doctor about his mood changes. A girl could get a broken neck trying to keep up.

Gianni glances at him as if waiting for permission to speak. When it doesn’t come, he says abruptly, “We’ve decided to move up the wedding date. For Lili’s own safety and—”

“I agree,” I interrupt, calmly stirring an enormous pot of carbonara sauce.

Quinn’s sharp gaze snaps in my direction. My body temperature rises several degrees. No one says anything for several moments, then Gianni clears his throat.

“Well… good. She needs a gown. And she’ll have to be all packed and ready to go to Boston. Her clothes and belongings, whatever she needs.”

“Of course. I’ll take care of everything. How much time do I have?”

“A week.”

My stirring falters for only the briefest of seconds before I start up again. “I see. The venue?”

Quinn says gruffly, “The Old North Church in Boston.”

Shocked, I glance up at him, meeting his penetrating gaze. “A church? Is that safe? Somewhere so public?”

“It’s our home parish. If the head of the Mob can be safely married there, so can his men.”

When I look at Gianni, he nods. I suspect they’ve had in-depth discussions about the exact safety precautions that will be put in place for the ceremony. Discussions I won’t be privy to, so I’ll just have to trust they know what they’re doing.

I don’t, but I’ll have to try.

“What about the rehearsal dinner? Where will that be held?”

Looking stumped, Gianni glances at Quinn. “Do we need a rehearsal dinner?”

Quinn examines my face for several seconds. “What do you think, Reyna?”

I almost drop the spoon in surprise but manage to compose myself in time. “We definitely need a formal meeting between the two families before the wedding.”

Gianni says, “I’m making the trip to Boston tomorrow to meet Mr. O’Donnell.”

“That’s fine, but you’ve got to get the women involved, too.”

Gianni looks irritated by that. “Why do we have to get the women involved?”

Leveling him with a stony stare, I say, “Because we’re joining our families, and it’s respectful to include us in something so important. Because it will help Lili adjust to her new life in Boston if she’s already met some of the women she’ll be spending time with. And because we’re the ones who decide if your home lives are heaven or hell, so you should accommodate us once in a while.”

Sighing, he says, “Fine. We’ll have a rehearsal dinner.”

“Thank you. Quinn, will you please put me in touch with your contact at the church so I can make arrangements for flowers, music, and the other ceremony details?”

“Aye.”

“What about the guest list? Who’s handling that?”

I get a bunch of blank stares in response to that question.

Seriously, how are men in charge of anything? They’re totally incompetent with logistics. Did they think we’d send out carrier pigeons?

Trying to rein in my temper, I say, “How many people does the church hold?”

“Four hundred max,” says Quinn.