Chapter 2

Marnie stared at the suitcase at her feet, then up at me, her eyes wide with shock. 

I turned my glare right onto the towering man beside her. 

"Are your long legs just for show, Mr. Flaherty?" I snapped. "Walk faster. I'm exhausted." 

Marnie let out a tiny gasp. "Eamon, she's so loud..." 

Eamon simply stepped forward, grabbed the handle of my bag, and lifted it like it weighed nothing. "Let's go."

I followed him. Ah, I thought. Now I get it. 

No wonder my cousin Cora died of depression in her last life. You had Marnie playing the weak, helpless victim, and Eamon acting like a brick wall who never spoke up. Anyone would choke to death in that kind of marriage. 

But I'm not Cora. If anyone makes me uncomfortable, I'm going to make sure everyone in the room feels it ten times worse. 

The mob works fast. The marriage paperwork was already filed in advance to seal the Keating-Flaherty alliance. Just three days later, we held the wedding in the massive backyard of the Flaherty estate. 

No church. No fancy choir. Just a hundred hardened bootleggers, capos, and their wives. 

I wore a simple white gown. Marnie showed up in a pale pink dress that looked entirely too bridal. 

She stood near the front row, her shoulders slumped, dabbing a lace handkerchief at her eyes. 

"I just envy Miss Fiona," Marnie sniffled. "She gets to marry Eamon just because of some old family promise. I grew up in this house, but I guess... at the end of the day, I'll always just be an outsider." 

I smiled. I took two steps forward, grabbed Eamon by the lapels of his sharp tuxedo, and pulled him down to my level. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him hard right on the mouth. 

I raised an eyebrow and looked dead at Marnie. 

"You're damn right I'm lucky," I said. "My man is rich, powerful, and capable. He deserves a lucky woman like me. If you don't have the luck, don't try to catch the blessing. You'll just break your neck." 

To seal the deal, I reached down and pinched Eamon's right butt cheek. Hard and secretly. 

A dark red flush crept up Eamon’s neck and hit his ears. He froze completely. 

Marnie’s face twisted. Tears spilled over her eyelashes as she looked up at him. 

"Eamon..." she whispered, her voice trembling. "Tomorrow is my parents' death anniversary. You... you'll still go to the cemetery with me, right? You've never missed a year." 

Eamon cleared his throat, recovering his composure. He nodded. "I'll be there. Don't worry." 

My grip on his arm tightened. 

This was it. Tomorrow was the day Eamon abandoned his new bride to comfort the grieving orphan. He didn't even leave Cora a note. That was the start of her lifelong sentence in a cold, lonely house. 

Not on my watch. 

I grabbed Eamon's arm, slid my foot behind his ankle, pivoted, and threw my entire weight forward. 

Wham. 

He slammed into the manicured grass flat on his back. 

The entire yard stopped breathing. 

"Fiona! How dare you!" Marnie shrieked. "Are you insane? How could you do that to him in front of everyone? He's the boss!" 

Eamon groaned. He pushed himself off the ground and dusted the grass off his wool suit pants. He wasn’t angry. He just looked at me, his dark eyes unreadable. 

Then, he reached out and grabbed my hand. 

"You're coming to the cemetery with us tomorrow," he said. "Let's finish the wedding. I'll explain everything tonight." 

Marnie looked like she had just been slapped across the face. She covered her mouth, let out a loud sob, and ran crying into the mansion. 

The guests were terrified. The priest rushed through the rest of the ceremony like the cops were outside. 

Night fell. I sat on the edge of the massive soft bed in the master suite, smacking my hand against the mattress. 

The door clicked open. Eamon walked in, loosening his tie. 

I stood up and crossed my arms. 

"Let's get one thing straight right now," I said. "I can't stand a man with messy baggage. If you plan on letting other women parade around this house acting like they own the place, we are done. I'll pack my bags, go back to New York, and marry someone else. I won't get in the way of you taking care of your precious little sister." 

Eamon frowned. His thick eyebrows pulled together. "We have a family alliance. I married you. I’ll take responsibility for you." 

I scoffed loudly. "Responsibility? Mr. Flaherty, a marriage contract binds businesses, not my life. If we can make it work, we stay together. If we can't, we split. Nobody wastes anyone's time." 

He stood there for a long moment. Then, he sighed. He walked over, sat down next to me on the bed, and took my hand. 

"Fiona," he said, his tone surprisingly sincere. "There is nothing going on between me and Marnie. There never will be. Her father took a bullet for my dad. Both her parents died. I promised I would look after her. That's it." 

He looked down at our hands, then back up at my eyes. "I'm bad with words. I don't know how to talk to women. If you're unhappy with something, tell me straight to my face. I'll fix it." 

The warm yellow glow of the bedside lamp hit his sharp jawline. He looked deadly, but his eyes were completely earnest. 

My face suddenly felt hot. 

"I have a terrible temper," I muttered, looking away. "If you can handle it, fine. If you can't, tell me early." 

A rare, quiet smile touched his lips. 

I bit my lip. Screw it. I leaned in and kissed him. 

He didn't freeze this time. His hands moved to my waist, pulling me flush against his chest. The air in the room instantly grew hot. His lips were rough but demanding, and my hands tangled in his dark hair. 

Bang! Bang! Bang! 

Someone hammered on the bedroom door. We jerked apart. 

"Boss! Boss, it's bad!" a guy yelled from the hallway. 

"What?" 

"It's Miss Marnie! She left a letter! She ran off to the docks and said she doesn't want to drag you down anymore! She's going to jump in the ocean to be with her parents!" 

Eamon's body instantly went rigid. He stood up and grabbed his coat.