Page 29 of The Boss

I’m really damn sad.

And I don’t get sad. I get angry. I get irritated. I get misty eyed sometimes, but that’s from frustration or overwhelm. This, this is much deeper.

Because that was it.

That was my wedding.

There was no glamour, no grace, no romance. I didn’t feel special or pretty or even, at the very least, powerful and in control, like I imagined I would feel marrying Bosco. It was all just…wrong, ugly, and sad.

Whatever, it’s over.

It was a necessary risk. It didn’t work but it might have. Everyone hated everything about that ceremony and reception—the live animals especially. There were a couple times I saw Quinn’s second, Mac, give his boss a worried expression. I caught Quinn grimacing and sighing a few times.

So, it was a calculated choice that didn’t pay off. Isn’t my first, won’t be my last. Time to move on.

I grab Marlon and head toward the limo. The driver opens the door for me, revealing a spread out Quinn talking on his flip phone. It looks like a toy in his massive hand. So stupid.

I decide to place Marlon right on his lap as I shuffle in and put my oversized purse at my feet. Before he looks at the dog, the giant Irishman does a double take at me in my almost-neon-yellow suit and hat. Then he looks down at his lap where I’ve placed my tiny, nervous animal.

Bite his crotch!I try to tell Marlon via ESP.Instead, he seems to actually calm down and get comfortable. No killer instincts, that one.

Quinn isn’t disgusted like I’d hoped, but he does scoop the pup in one hand and set him on the leather seat in between us. Marlon wobbles as the limo moves, looking pitiful. So I let out an exaggerated huff at my new husband and put the little guy on my lap instead.

He ignores both of us, giving one word answers to whoever is on the other end of his phone call.

“Baaaabe,” I whine, “You can’t spend our honeymoon on your phone.”

He gives me a side eye but then looks away as if I never spoke. I start some dramatic pouting, which I have to continue for the rest of the short drive. I’m nothing if not committed to my character.

We turn into the small airport and take a few turns before pulling into a hangar. There’s a fancy jet waiting, just like Papa’s. But the men in leather jackets, mostly beefy red heads, they’re definitelynotPapa’s men.

My nerves twist in my abdomen. This is it. I’m leaving my city, leaving my world, my kingdom, my dreams and goals. I start comforting Marlon in disgusting baby talk, telling him not to be nervous, how we’ll love our new home, basically a bunch of garbage I need to hear myself.

Then before I can blink we’re shuffled into the plane, bags are loaded, the door is shut and we’re off.

Quinn went to the cockpit for the start of the flight, then came out and chose to sit in the back with a couple of his men. Real me is relieved for the space. Fake me needs to make a fuss about that choice. I prance back to him, dog in hand, and stop at the group of plush leather captains chairs that are facing each other.

“Pooh Bear, you can’t leave me and Marlon up there all alone, we’ll miss you too much.”

Quinn sighs a heavy sigh that sounds a lot like victory to me. Like I’m finally getting to him.

Yes, Luna! Keep up the crazy!

“Leave us,” he says to his men. They stifle smiles as they walk away.

I take a seat next to him and turn to say something ridiculous, but Quinn holds up a hand.

“Enough, Luna. How long are you going to keep this up?”

I start to feel the blood drain from my face as I ask, “What do—”

“I admire your persistence. But you can stop pretending to be a crazy…cartoon woman. It won’t deter me and surely you’re tired of it.”

I pretend to be offended. “I don’t know what you mean, sweetie.”

“Stop.” His eyes are so intense it’s painful to hold his stare, but I do. I can’t look away. “You’re a Purple Belt in Jiu-Jitsu. Your knife collection is bigger than my own.”What…no. No no no no.“You can probably outshoot half my men with a pistol and a stationary target. You have a masters in Business.”Papa told him? How much does he know?

“You wanted to take over for daddy and play Don, yeah?” He leans closer to me, furrows his brow and takes up all the space in the whole cabin. The menace in his tone makes me want to lean back, or maybe run down the aisle, then promptly jump outof this plane. But I fight the urge. “Well, princess, I’m your don now. And nothing will stop this partnership or this marriage. No matter how batshit crazy you act, fill my house with frilly pink crap, buy another last-minute rat-dog. It won’t matter.” Fear is replaced by rage the more dismissive words he spews. “It’s over, it’s done. No way out. This is your life now, you might as well be yourself.”