Page 97 of The Mafia Marriage Contract

His eyes flash. “No, princess. I’ll drag you into it because you’re the only thing I can use to hurt that bastard.”

That lands like a punch to the gut.

My stomach turns.

“You hate my da that much,” I whisper, “that you’re willing to becomeworse… to hurt me?”

He slams a fist into the metal wall beside me, the clang echoing through the building. Dust sifts from the beams above. I don’t flinch this time. “You wear the crown, princess. You’re an O’Callaghan.”

“And that makes me guilty?”

“In my world, it makes you a pawn. One I intend to use.”

He yanks something from his coat. A silver pendant, tarnished and bent. It spins in his fingers as he stares at it with glassy eyes.

“My brother gave me this days before he died. Said the bloodline would end with us if we didn’t fight back.”

Roman’s voice turns distant. Hollow. “Now I get payback.”

There’s a sound behind us. Muffled footsteps and the low groan of a door. Roman stuffs the chain into his pocket and clears his throat.

A man in a dark overcoat appears at the far end of the warehouse. In the dim light he appears nondescript.

Average in height. Balding. But there’s a weight to his presence that makes my stomach twist.

He walks closer without batting an eye at my situation and looks straight at Roman.

“You said you had a name,” the man says, his voice old and rasping but not weak. “From the vault.”

Roman nods. “I want what was promised.”

“Information is earned. Not gifted. This better be worth the blood it cost.”

Roman hands him a folded slip of paper. The man tucks it into his coat.

Then he turns, eyes grazing over me as if I’m nothing but furniture. “This one has orders.”

Roman’s smile is razor-thin. “Is that so?”

“I’ll contact you after the meeting scheduled at pier 47.” The man leaves without another word. I glare at Roman, his face all satisfaction and shadow.

“What the hell was that?” I ask, throat dry and head thumping. “What have ya done, Roman?”

I don’t know what he just traded. But I’m wise to the smile on his face which means someone’s going to die.

He crouches beside me again, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “That, Livvie… was the beginning of the end for your family. You’ll know which one once the headlines break.”

My stomach flips, nausea rising fast and thick. The bile scorches my throat, and for a second I’m sure I’m going to throw up.

The skin on my wrists throbs against the cuffs, metal cutting deeper every time I wrestle with them.

But I force my breathing to remain steady. Force myself to glare at him.

“Fuck you, Roman,” I rasp, voice raw. “This isn’t just about revenge for your brother. Who, by the way, must have fucked up all by himself to deserve a kill order.”

He doesn’t flinch. That almost pisses me off more.

“You came unglued the second my da pulled us apart. You were obsessed then, and you’re worse now. Don’t pretend this is justice.”