Page 13 of The Mafia Marriage Contract

“If we go home together, we’re a bigger target,” I snap, planting my hands on my hips. “Whoever did this knows exactly where you live. Splitting up makes it harder for them.”

“That’s the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.” Kingston crosses his arms, looming over me. “You think separating makes yousafer? You think your team can protect you better than I can?”

“They’ve been doing it my entire life.”

“Well, congratulations,wife,” he drawls, voice thick with mockery. “That job’s mine now.”

Before I can spit back another retort, the terrace doors slam open.

A wave of silence ripples through the crowd as my father steps onto the terrace.

Cormac O’Callaghan.

Though he’s not as tall as most men, he’s broad-shouldered, dressed in a sharp black suit, and radiates the same untouchable supremacy Kingston does. Except he’s colder, less patient with fools. Deep lines on his face tell stories of battles won and the enemies he had buried in cement.

His silver-threaded hair is neatly combed, but his rich brown eyes burn with barely restrained fury as he approaches.

“You’re going home with Viacava, Livvie. No arguments,” he says, running an eye over my dress, checking for signs of injury. “There’s more at stake here than your independence. Empires will crumble if you screw it up.”

My hands curl into fists. “I don’t need him to?—”

He silences me with a glare. The kind that’s made grown men weep in the past.

“You’rehiswife now. And that means you gowith him.” His tone is absolute. Final.

I grind my teeth, hating the way I have to obey these men like a shiny object being passed from one to the other. Despite that, I know better than to argue with my father when he uses that tone.

He turns to Kingston, their eyes locking like wolves sizing each other up. “She’s your responsibility now, Viacava. I expect you to protect her as I would.Increase your staff and if you come up with any leads, let me know. I have my best man on it. If he can’t find the fucker, no one can.”

My stomach knots. He’s talking about Roman Keane.

Kingston nods once, unaware of my past.

“She’ll be with me twenty-four seven. You have my word. I’ll protect her.”

My father’s gaze cuts to me. “Focus on the honeymoon, Livvie, and post plenty of pictures for everyone to see the happy, believable couple.”

He lights up a cigar, satisfied with his input, and saunters back inside, leaving me standing there, fuming.

Kingston shifts closer, just enough to taunt me with his cologne and muscular build. He tilts his head, eyes gleaming with amusement. Then he smirks—cocky, provoking.

“See—I always get what I want,wife.”

I scowl at him. “Then ya should’ve married a woman who listens.”

He laughs, low and rich, and my belly swoops. “I like the one I got just fine.”

“Shame the feeling isn’t mutual.”

“Eventually, you’ll realize there’s no point fighting against this. Remember your vows? ’Til death do us part and all that bullshit. I’ll eliminate whoever took out a hit on us and that will ensure neither of us dies too soon. So grab your bags, wife. You’re all mine now.”

6

KINGSTON

A bullet to the heart would have been cleaner than this damn sham marriage.

We’re silent in the back of the blacked-out Escalade. Three more trucks follow behind us, one in front. My father sent his top security guards with us while the rest of his men and O’Callaghan’s security detail combed the venue, looking for the whereabouts of a fucking sniper.