Rosa
“Can’t you stay just a little longer?” I blurt out and then inwardly cringe at the sound of panic in my voice.
And by the way Alejandro’s brows immediately pull together in discontentment, he heard it too.
“Unfortunately, I’ve stayed longer than I should have. You forget I have my own wedding to attend to when I arrive back home,” he explains, making my teeth pull at my bottom lip at the somber reminder.
Somewhere out there is another girl in the same predicament I find myself in, anxious and afraid of what her future holds, alongside a man who, for her entire life, was dubbed to be her greatest foe. My selfishness in wanting my brother to stay for the entirety of my wedding reception suddenly dissipates, knowing that he too must make the same sacrifice as I have in the name of peace.
Although, I don’t need to nitpick much to know that our circumstances are far from being the same. Nothing is really going to change in my brother’s life, aside from the fact that he will now be tied down to a total stranger. Unlike me, Alejandro will still be able to live in the same house we grew up in. He will be able to enjoy Javier and Francesco’s company every day if he so wishes. He will walk down the familiar halls of our home or wander around in our garden, feeling the warm Mexican sun on his face. And at night, my brother will be able to sleep in his own bed, the only difference when he opens his eyes in the morning, will be the enemy lying asleep beside him.
The six daughters of the notorious crime families that came up with the treaty cannot boast the same, as we will be forever changed. Ripped from the bosom of our families, our homes, and everything we’ve ever known–all of us will be shipped out and delivered to live in cities we had been cautioned since birth never to enter. We will be expected to converse and live out our days with total strangers, and warm the beds of men that at one point would have rather wrapped their hands around our throats and extinguished the light from our eyes.
Even when men in our world are subjected to some form of sacrifice, it’s never as cruel or harsh as what a woman faces.
“I’m sad I won’t be there to see you get married, hermano ,” I say at last with a tender smile. “I wish you all the happiness in the world. Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll be able to meet her.”
“That might be sooner than you think.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t want to get your hopes up, but your husband insinuated to me last night that he might not be averse to visiting Mexico should you wish to see your family.”
“He did?” My eyes widen in astonishment, searching the large crowded reception hall for the man in question and not finding him amongst the many guests. “Do you believe him?” I ask hopefully.
“Men like us are born liars, Rosa, but there are some things we still hold sacred. When we give our word, then that is as binding as the wedding ring on your finger,” he states evenly, eyeing my wedding band that feels like a noose tightening around my neck every time I look at it.
“Then I guess I have something to look forward to,” I offer him another small smile, praying he doesn’t see how truly miserable I am. “Go, hermano . I don’t want my future sister-in-law to be cross with me because you showed up late to your wedding.”
My brother’s expression remains as stoic as ever, but by the way his jaw ticks, I know that he’s reluctant to leave me here alone with the Kellys.
“Five years, sweet sister. They fly by faster than you think.”
My throat tightens with the tears of sorrow that threaten to drown me, but like the well-groomed cartel princess that I am, I flash him a comforting smile, hoping that it will dim his anxiety at abandoning me here in this vipers’ nest.
“Safe travels, brother. Please tell everyone back home I’m thinking of them.”
He nods, grabbing my hands to give them a tender squeeze, knowing full well that if he hugged me right now, I’d break into a thousand pieces.
After I watch him leave, I go back to my seat at the large table at the head of the room, shrugging off the curious stares that follow my every move. I should get accustomed to them since I’m sure they will be my companions for the duration of my marriage, or at least until the shine of the novelty wears off.
But as the hours pass and the alcohol flows, the Kelly’s guests begin to show their true colors where I’m concerned. I squirm in my seat as the men throw out lewd remarks about my impending wedding night, while they cheer for their king’s good health and sexual prowess. A king who hasn’t said more than two words to me aside from the threat he uttered in the limo on the way here.
He called me a liar.
We haven’t even had a full conversation with one another, and already I’ve displeased him.
Not that the incident has dulled his sudden celebratory mood any. In the limo he acted as if our wedding was a mournful occasion, yet the minute we stepped into the reception hall, his disposition did a complete one-eighty. I’ve sat on the sidelines and watched Tiernan dance with every pretty girl here and drink from every cup handed to him. Since he’s made no attempt to include me in the festivities, I’m not naïve enough to think his gregarious nature has anything to do with being thrilled at our union. It almost looks like this wedding reception is more of an excuse to have one last hurrah with his men, than it is to commemorate the vows we took earlier today.
Not wanting to stare at my husband having a merry time of it, I take in his guests to see if there are any sympathetic faces to my plight. Anyone that can become a friend in this land filled with foes.
My gaze first lands on the less than obvious choice, my in-laws—Niall and Saoirse Kelly.
“Welcome to the family, Rosa,” was the only statement that Saoirse had said to me when Alejandro introduced us earlier. She said it in a way that didn’t hold any animosity in it, but not much affection in it either. My father-in-law, on the other hand, stood rigidly still beside her, making no attempts to look at me whatsoever.
Of course, I didn’t expect them to welcome me into the fold with open arms, so I wasn’t offended by their lukewarm greeting. But as the day unfolded into night, I got a feeling that me marrying their first-born son wasn’t exactly on the top of the list of concerns for them, either.
On one of my many trips to the lady’s room to get some much-needed solitude, my suspicions were confirmed when I overheard some women gossip about how the Kelly’s youngest daughter, Iris, was probably marrying one of the Volkov brothers in Vegas as they spoke.
A shudder went down my spine at the frightening thought.
Up until that point, I never truly considered that marrying into the Kelly family was preferable in comparison to some other families—the Bratva being one of them. The Irish mob might be the unruly savages that my brother claimed them to be, but rumor has it that even Satan himself is afraid of the Volkovs, and has made sure that they remain unscathed just so he could buy himself some time before they enter his infernal domain and wreak havoc in hell.
It’s no wonder that my in-laws can’t crack a smile tonight. Unlike my father, it’s obviously apparent their thoughts are solely on the daughter they can no longer protect.
Unable to see so much restrained suffering, my gaze continues to scan the ample room, finding another person who looks just as unhappy to be here as I am.
Colin Kelly.
Alejandro was adamant that I stay away from him, and if he hadn’t forewarned me the man was as dangerous as they come, then one quick glance his way would have done the trick. Surprisingly enough, the reason behind me wanting to maintain a wide berth from the man, has nothing to do with the burn marks that crest the left side of his face. Those are simply scars of war, and Colin cannot be held accountable for the evil of other men. It was the emptiness in his green eyes that told me I need to be careful whenever I find myself in his presence in the future. Maybe it’s a childish notion, but I’ve always believed that the eyes were the window to a person’s soul. And in Colin’s case, his told me that he doesn’t have one.
Soulless.
Lifeless.
Unmerciful.
For a man’s soul to be that damaged, he must have endured too many horrors to count, ultimately making him unleash nightmares of his own. I wouldn’t be surprised if loud, tormented screams and tear-stricken pleas of mercy were like lullabies to him. The marks that have been branded on his skin are just a cautionary tale of what he must have done in order to ensure his survival. Men like him might not have been born evil, but they sure have been molded into becoming it.
Afraid that somehow Colin can sense the horrid images of him I’m conjuring in my mind, I shift my attention away and continue on with my perusal until someone catches me in the act. My throat tightens when Shay Kelly’s curious eyes meet mine from across the room.
Unlike Colin, Shay doesn’t seem to hold one facial flaw or have any scars that are visible to the naked eye. I’ve never considered myself to be a shallow person nor based my regard for a person purely on looks, but even I have to admit that Shay’s handsome features are too pronounced to ignore.
With shoulder-length light brown hair and a trimmed beard, paired with stunning clear blue eyes, he reminds me of Leonardo da Vinci’s infamous painting of The Last Supper, whose replica adorns one of my own childhood home’s walls. While his brother has an uncanny resemblance to the god of the underworld, Shay is his complete opposite, looking like the Irish version of Jesus Christ himself. But unlike the son of God, Shay wields his handsome looks like a sword, sure to capture the hearts of women all along the Massachusetts coast. While I’ve watched Tiernan limit himself only to dancing with the prettiest female guests here tonight, I’ve seen Shay do much more than just dance. He’s kissed at least five different women in a span of an hour from what I could tell. Lord knows what else he’s done where no one could see.
When my manwhore of a brother-in-law begins to walk in my direction, I curse at myself for not having been more discreet with my perusal. The crowd parts for him like the red sea, and all too soon he reaches my table. With a smug smile on his lips, Shay pulls out an empty chair beside me, twirls it around, and straddles it. He crosses his arms over the top rail of the chair, placing his chin on his wrist while staring at my side profile with no inhibitions whatsoever. When I refuse to look his way, he snickers in amusement.
“Not having fun?” he asks, his tone filled with mirth.
“Am I supposed to?”
“Don’t see why not? No one will judge you for having a good time on your wedding day.”
“Then hopefully no one will judge me if I don’t, either.”
Even from my peripheral, I can see the gleam of mischief in his eyes. I tilt my neck left to right, frustrated with the tension building up in it and my shoulders with the way he’s staring at me. I almost let out a relieved breath when his gaze falls away from my face and onto the untouched flute of champagne on the table.
“Don’t like champagne?”
“Never acquired much of a taste for it.”
“So you’re sober like a judge, huh?”
I nod.
“Shit. No wonder you’re bored.” He laughs. “Want a sip of mine?” he asks, holding out his beer bottle for me.
“I would rather stick with water. Thank you.”
“Water won’t make any of these pricks any more interesting, petal. Come on. Just one sip.”
“No, thank you.”
“Fuck. Are you always this polite?” He chuckles again in blatant mockery of me, making my lips pinch into a fine line. “Fine,” he relents when he sees I don’t find his light teasing amusing. “You don’t want to drink, then I won’t force you.”
It takes everything in me to bite back the thank you that wants to come out on reflex alone.
“But it will be a shame if you don’t have a little fun on your wedding day. Everyone else is having a grand ol’ time. Don’t see why you shouldn’t.”
It’s true.
Everyone is having a good time, while I sit here all alone, watching life pass me by.
“If getting stinking drunk is off the menu, then what would you like to do?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused, turning my head to face him at last.
The beaming triumphant smile that crests his lips should have me on high alert, but surprisingly, it doesn’t. I can see how Shay is able to snare his prey so easily. His smile alone is disarming.
“There must be something we can do to remedy the shitty time you’ve been having tonight. I mean, do you really want to look back on your wedding day and only remember how bored you were?”
“This is a transaction. Not exactly a cause for celebration.”
“You’re right,” he replies somewhat regretfully, as if only now remembering the circumstances that brought me to Boston in the first place. “Perdóname.”
I shrug off his apology.
“It is what it is. I’ve made peace with it,” I lie, turning my attention back to the party in front of me.
“Hmm,” he mumbles unconvinced. “Even so, you’ll only get married once. Which means this is all you’ve got, petal. Might as well make the most of it.”
I’m not sure what troubles me more. Shay wanting to salvage my night by imposing his glass half-full mentality on me, or his insistence on calling me petal. I’m about to chastise him for the ludicrous nickname and remind him of acceptable decorum, when I let out an unladylike shriek the minute Shay grabs the chair beneath me and turns it towards him.
“Nuh huh,” he reprimands, shaking his head while his hands grip the sides of my chair, his body leaning too close for comfort to mine. “Let’s imagine this is a happy occasion. That you have just married your prince charming and that everyone you love is here.”
I open my mouth to lecture him on the absurdity of his statement, but close it shut and widen my eyes when he has the audacity of pressing one lone finger to my lips.
“Just do it, Rosa. Come on. Name one thing you always imagined yourself doing on your wedding day. Just one thing and then I’ll leave you alone. Promise.”
“I don’t need your pity,” I rebuke coldly, leaning as far away from him as I can.
“Good, because you don’t have it. Now answer my question. All little girls fantasize about their wedding day. So don’t tell me there isn’t one thing you envisioned yourself doing today. I’m not buying it.”
All the humor in his expression has been stripped away, leaving only a man resolute in his mission. My nose crinkles and my shoulders slump as I turn my head away from him and watch the cheerful crowd laugh and dance the night away.
“I… um… I would have liked to dance at my wedding. At least once.”
I don’t have to look at Shay to see that his victorious smile has returned.
“That’s it? Just one dance?”
I nod shyly, hating that I’ve let him see such silly vulnerability in me.
“Then if that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get,” he states, but before he’s able to stand from his chair, I hold onto his wrist to stop him.
When his gaze zones in on my fingers on his skin, I quickly remember myself and pull them away. I swallow the lump in my throat as he waits for me to explain why I stopped him.
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
“I’m a nice guy. Just ask anyone,” he jokes lightheartedly.
“That’s not what I’ve heard.”
“Your brother’s opinion of me doesn’t count.”
To me, his is the only opinion that ever has.
“I’m being serious, Shay. Why do you even care? I’m no one to you.”
He takes a bit to think about it, his happy-go-lucky expression turning serious once again.
“You want the truth?”
“Si .”
“Because I need to believe that someone in Vegas is showing my kid sister the same kindness right now.”
The rough chain of steel that had been tightening its hold around my heart since I stepped foot on U.S. soil suddenly gives way and loosens. My own self-pity goggles lift from my eyes, and for the first time tonight, when I turn my attention to the Kelly family feasting amongst the joyful crowd, I see pain hidden behind their smiles.
I watch my husband camouflage his sadness over his absent sister by surrounding himself with his men and drinking the night away. I notice how Colin stands guard on the side, vigilantly watching his fearless leader, making sure no outside threat can harm him while he drowns his sorrows.
I remember how Niall Kelly refused to look at me. How his wife, Saoirse, was only able to say a couple of words to me, since my presence must be a painful reminder of the daughter they lost to the treaty.
And last but not least, sits Shay in front of me, who throughout the whole night has been trying to keep his hands and mind busy and away from his sister’s fate by seeking warmth in any woman’s arms.
The Kellys may be savage beasts like my brother had forewarned, but even an animal is capable of feeling the pains of love and loss. It’s Shay’s raw honesty that has me conceding to his wishes.
“One dance,” I say at last.
His wide smile is immediate.
“One dance,” he agrees. “Just give me two seconds,” he says before rushing off to the DJ on the other side of the room.
I try not to fidget in my seat while I wait for his return.
But when he does, I can’t help how my heart flutters in my chest when he offers me his hand.
“May I have this dance?”
“How can I say no to such a request?”
Virgen de Guadalupe, ayúdame.