Chapter 2

We didn’t waste another second. Thirty minutes later, we arrived at O’Sullivan’s underground casino.

But we were stopped at the entrance.

While I stood there, completely at a loss, Moira turned on the waterworks and slipped into her best damsel‑in‑distress act for the armed guards.

“Please,” she sobbed, “I just need to see the footage! I have to know if my fiancé is actually cheating on me!”

While the guards were distracted by Moira’s fake panic, Bridget made her move, slipping a thick envelope of cash to the pit boss.

I hadn’t expected them to come this prepared.

Soon enough, we were escorted into the surveillance room, where we scrubbed through the security feed from the masquerade ball a week ago.

Every guest on the casino floor was wearing a flashy mask—except Seamus. He sat lazily by a high-stakes baccarat table, looking completely unbothered by the chaos around him.

Suddenly, on the screen, the Don turned his head. His dark eyes bypassed the dancing crowd and locked directly onto our table.

He slowly raised his whiskey glass right at us, a quiet smirk on his face, looking exactly like a predator who had just spotted its kill.

"He was looking right at us," Bridget whispered, the color draining from her face.

If he had supposedly set his sights on one of us that night, why did he violently slaughter every single Cavanaugh woman who tried to wear that ring?

"I'm going to the O'Sullivan estate," I announced, turning away from the monitors. "I have to talk to him directly."

An hour later, we stood outside the towering iron gates of the Don's mansion. Heavily armed mobsters immediately stepped forward, their hands resting on the grips of their rifles, completely blocking my path.

My hands shook violently, but I forced my chin up, reached into my coat, and held up the solid gold crest ring.

The head guard's eyes darted to the gleaming gold. His stance shifted. He tapped his earpiece, listened for a second, and looked back at me with absolute coldness.

"Open the gates," he barked. He gestured toward the long driveway. "But only the Bride goes in."

Walking alone into the grand, dimly lit living room of the mansion felt like stepping into a tomb.

Don was sitting on a massive leather sofa. The oppressive aura of a Mafia Boss suffocated the room.

I forced down the nausea churning in my stomach, clenched my fists to stop the shaking, and stepped forward.

"You finally showed up," his low rumble of a voice echoed.

Before I could even process the words, Seamus stood up and pulled me forcefully against his chest.

He took my right hand and kissed it.

I had to suppress a full-body shudder.

His hand then caught my chin, forcing my gaze to his.

After my dad died, I had been nothing but a punching bag for my stepfamily.

Untill that masquerade ball, a stranger in a mask had pulled me out of the shadows. He comforted me. We spent the night hidden away, wrapped up in an intense, masked romance. He looked at me with deep devotion and swore he would marry me.

I had waited for that stranger like a desperate idiot.

I stared at the face of the Mafia Don holding me. It was him.

The stranger from the ball was Seamus O'Sullivan.

I forced myself to breathe and held his gaze. "Are you absolutely sure I am the woman you are looking for? "

Seamus let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating against my chest.

He lifted my hand, his thumb tracing the metal of the signet ring.

"You are wearing it, Fiona. The size happens to be exact. It fits you perfectly."

"A perfect fit does not mean I am the right person," I challenged him, the pounding in my chest growing louder. "There were hundreds of women at your casino."

His smile faded. "I do not make mistakes, Fiona."

If he was so certain it was me, then why did he put a pillow over my face the second we reached the bedroom?

While my mind spun, his free hand started tracking down my waist, moving straight toward my inner thigh.

A spike of pure adrenaline hit my brain. This was the trigger.

In my last life, after seeing my tattoo, he lost his mind and smothered me.

Was the tattoo the problem?

I blindly grabbed his wrist, abruptly halting his hand before it could go any further.

He paused, his dark eyes looking down at my fingers wrapped around his arm in slight confusion.

"So... do you still remember what you promised me back at the casino?" I whispered. "About how you swore you'd fill our wedding aisle with red roses?"