“Tiggy,” I murmur, slugging back some more champagne and steeling myself not to flinch away from him.
“I’m yer new shadow, Tiggy,” he breathes into my ear, a shudder working its way up my spine. “And I don’t trust ye.”
I swallow more champagne to hide my gulp of nerves.
“Good to know.” I’m immensely proud of how cool my tone is. “I’ll make sure to keep an eye out for you.”
Niall Byrne watches me with his hooded green eyes as I do my best to ignore him, turning to face the room. For the first time tonight, Seamus is watching us, his eyes inscrutable. Locking my gaze with his, I tug the corners of my mouth up into a smirk, raising my half-empty champagne glass to salute him.
I’m tickled pink at my boldness.
“May I have this dance?”
I jump in surprise, tearing my eyes away from Seamus as I turn to my right to see Sean Fitzpatrick standing there. Carefully placing my glass on the table, I set my hand in his outstretched one. I can’t very well refuse the head of the Boston Irish Mafia, my new father-in-law.
He leads me onto the dance floor, positioning us as the music picks up, guiding me around. I can feel Seamus’s eyes on us the entire time.
“What do ye think of my son?”
I raise my eyes to meet his steely blue ones. There is curiosity there, alongside admiration. The admiration will be because I look pretty right now. A blushing bride in white. Too bad my husband doesn’t look at me like that. I would settle for a little less resentment.
“He’s very sure of himself,” I settle on.
A ghost of a smile flits across Sean’s face. “And so he should be. He’s my named successor.”
We dance in silence for a while as I process that piece of information. Shit. This isn’t just an arranged marriage between the children of the heads of the Irish and Romanian factions. I’m going to be the wife of the head of the Irish Mafia in Boston someday. If I live that long.
It sounds dramatic, but then again, neither of our mothers are present at our wedding, so perhaps it’s not a dramatic thought.
“We’ll have eyes on ye at every moment, lass.” Sean is talking again, and I meet his gaze again. “So toe the line and don’t try anything funny.”
Don’t be a mole. Don’t betray them. Not if I want to live. It’s what he doesn’t say and exactly what I hear. I want to cry. I never even got to say goodbye to my father, unaware he wouldn’t be here at the wedding reception, and now I can never see him again.
Hell. I can never speak Romanian again. That part of my life and culture is over, and I feel crushing grief pressing against my chest. I focus on my breathing, grounding myself by counting five familiar things in this room. Just like I’ve done ever since I was fourteen, and the panic started creeping up on me.
Just like I teach the children whose cases I manage. Taught. Because that’s not my life anymore. Crap. I refocus. One, the golden bracelet on my left wrist, which was my mother's. Two, the gardenia perfume I have worn every day since I was fourteen. Three, the fact that I am surrounded by mobsters. Four….
“May I cut in?”
Sean steps away as Seamus takes his place, holding me much closer than his father did. Once we’re alone in our little bubble, he leans his head closer to my face.
“You’re panicking,” he murmurs accusingly, low enough so only I can hear. Four, four, four. I’ve run out of familiar things.
He sighs, picking my hand up off his shoulder and pressing it against my heart so I can feel my rapid heartbeat. Four, my heartbeat. Five. I close my eyes, five, the fact that I only have myself to rely on.
I blow out a long breath, feeling calmer now I have finished my list. My eyes flutter open, and I stare at Seamus, watching me carefully.
“I think that’s enough champagne for you tonight,” he drawls, and I blink in surprise.
The flash of kindness when he helped me out of my panic spiral has disappeared, and his eyes are hard again.
“Niall will take you up to our room.”
He lifts his eyes over my shoulder and nods to someone, stepping back as he leads me off the dance floor. Niall gestures at the door, and when I glance over my shoulder as I leave, Seamus has moved back across the room to his crew.
The opulent halls of the hotel are practically deserted at this time of night. We’ve been at the reception for hours. Our trek is silent, my companion still exuding that air of menace. I wonder if he will go back downstairs after delivering me to my room or if his night is over.
The room Niall takes me to is on the seventh floor. He unlocks the door with a card key and gestures for me to enter.