“You didn’t think to ask my permission before you proposed?”
The trap wouldn’t have been any more obvious if it had been in neon.
“Would your daughter have said yes afterward if I had?”
Rolf laughed, the sound booming in the room, as he walked with Lucas to Ruby’s side. “You do know my little spitfire well.” He took his daughter’s left hand and held it up. “Where’s the ring?”
Lips compressed into a line, Ruby tugged her hand free. “I’m designing it now. You know how picky I can be, Daddy.”
The vein in Rolf’s temple pulsed, and he flexed his jaw. Ruby tensed at his side. Warning sirens blaring in his head, Lucas laid his palm against the small of Ruby’s back, pressing gently against her and rubbing the pad of this thumb in slow, small circles as time stood still. Finally, millimeter by millimeter, she relaxed into his touch.
“I guess that’s the trouble with marrying a jewelry designer,” he said, keeping his tone as light as the mood was heavy.
Rolf slid his flinty gaze over to Lucas. There was more than just annoyance there. He couldn’t pin it down, but whatever it was, it made Lucas’s fingers itch for the cold comfort of his 9mm. Then it was gone and the proud papa was back.
“Well then,” Rolf said, strolling over to the nearby liquor cabinet. “The only thing left for me to do is to pour some drinks so we can toast the newest member of our family.”
He poured a clear liquid into three small glasses and handed one to Ruby and then to him. The sweet and spicy, slightly peppery scent of caraway wafted up from the glass. Akvavit. The Macintoshes may not be Elskovian by birth or geography, but had clearly adopted some of his country’s customs if they toasted with the national drink that would put even the best vodka to shame.
“To the happy couple.” Rolf lifted his glass in toast.
Lucas and Ruby did the same before downing the akvavit in one swallow. It burned its way down his throat, bringing back memories of other toasts with criminals just as depraved—if not as successful—as the man he faced. None of them had ever known that the man with whom they toasted would destroy their organizations from the inside out.
“Have you two set a date?” Rolf poured another shot of akvavit into each of their glasses. “Your mother will want to know.”
“Not yet.” Ruby’s fingers tightened on the tiny glass until her knuckles paled. “How is she?”
“Much the same, but this news will cheer her up.” He lifted the glass to his mouth but stopped before it reached its intended target. His jaw went slack, and he let out a throaty laugh as he shook his head with wide-eyed wonder. “You know what? You should get married here at Fare Island this weekend. There’s nothing like a wedding to cheer up your mother.”
Lucas choked on the akvavit, searing his esophagus in both directions.
Ruby spoke up. “I don’t think that’s—”
“If you’re going to get married anyway,” her father interrupted, steel threading through his words. “Why not do it here and make your poor mother happy?”
The words hung in the air as Lucas ran through the scenarios in his head. Say no and the jig could be up. The old man was suspicious. He’d have to be an idiot not to be. They didn’t need him to be a true believer; they just needed him to believe enough to let down his guard the slightest fraction.
“It’s Monday. We haven’t done any planning.” The words tumbled out of Ruby’s mouth in a rush. “I don’t even have a dress yet.”
His brain continued to spin as he watched the tension grow between stepfather and stepdaughter. Say yes and he’d find himself married, under his legal name, Luc Svendsen, to a woman known—rightly or wrongly—as a black widow and expected to become part of the family business in some shape or form. Divorce was a given, but that came with complications of its own for his cover.
“Mere details that shouldn’t matter if you are really in love and truly ready to make this kind of commitment,” Rolf countered with a wave of his hand. “I can fly in Antoine Alstar to design a one-of-a-kind wedding dress, and Father Simon is always happy to come visit. It’s the perfect plan, unless you aren’t ready to make an honest man out of Luc here.”
On the surface, it was typical banter, but there was no mistaking the pressure building in the room. Even the guards had lost their bored expressions watching one of the most feared men in Europe being openly defied. The angry red splotch was back at the base of the old man’s throat. There wasn’t any more time to consider his options.
“Let’s do it,” Lucas said before he had time to second-guess himself.
Ruby whipped her head around to face him. “Are you serious?”
Time to sell it. Taking her chin between his thumb and finger, he tilted her head upward. Anticipation snapped between them like a live current. “Without a doubt.”
He dipped his head. Her gaze softened, and her lips parted. Later he could justify it to himself as necessary for the farce they were playing out in the middle of a dangerous den of thieves, but at that moment, he couldn’t lie to himself. He had to taste her. Before he could close the distance between his lips and hers, she spoke.
“As long as we can find Jasper so he can be here for the ceremony. It wouldn’t be the same without him.” Triumph flashed in her eyes for a moment and then was replaced with the besotted look of a woman in love. “Could you use your connections to find him on such short notice and get him to Fare Island for the wedding?”
Bloody hell. She had him by the balls, and she knew it. Unlike him, she hadn’t given in, even momentarily, to the tug of attraction between them. That fact should have frozen the hungry heat spiraling through him. But nothing about him seemed to work right when it came to Ruby Macintosh.
“For you?” He dropped his focus to her very kissable mouth. “Of course.”