03

« No, cousin. » He shook his head. « Elena. »

My hands twitched to throttle him. He knew I was obsessed with her. You’d think the idiot would have told me earlier.

« She’s getting married ? » I shouted. « When ? »

« Saturday. »

My nose flared. « That’s in two fucking days. » I ground out between clenched teeth.

I didn’t even notice that I crushed the cigarette in my hand until I brought it to my lips. No. No. Fuck no. She wasn’t allowed to marry anyone but me. There would be a wedding in two days, but it would be our wedding.

Yes, that could easily be arranged. I was so used to admiring and lusting after her from afar that I didn’t know what to feel now that I would take her. Would I feel a sense of satisfaction ? It was a peculiar feeling that rotted deep inside my stomach. It wasn’t unlike anything I’d ever felt before.

Apprehensiveness.

I was nervous about acquiring her, the object of all my desires. Elena Morelli belonged to me. From the very first moment I saw her, I knew she would be mine. There wasn’t a sense of rationality or sense. It didn’t exist when it revolved around her.

Nothing made sense when it came to Elena, and nothing would ever make sense. She didn’t know she belonged to me, but that wouldn’t last for too long. Her brother thought he could simply marry her off to form some fucked up version of an alliance, but he was always more hard-headed than smart.

Unlike his father, he wasn’t very much when it came to forging partnerships. The Russians cut off their contract the nanosecond he took over, and they were right to. Enzo had a short temper, which he proved throughout the months.

He was the type to act before thinking anything through. Everyone knew he was desperate for his father to pass so he could officially become Don of his family. A title was nothing without expertise, without stories, without successions.

People knew of me by name, as if I was some old legend that maybe didn’t exist. They made me seem like a myth or a scary bedtime story you told your kids so they wouldn’t stay out too late. Only those I deemed honorable and fit to meet me, to see my face, were allowed in the same room as me.

Those who weren’t didn’t live to see another day. You didn’t get a chance to see my face twice, nor did you get a chance to cheat, lie, or steal from me. I was Oisín Callahan of the Callahan family line. I was descended from generations of strong Irish leaders. My forefathers were all strong-willed and brave warriors and leaders.

The strength I carried in my blood was passed down to me by generations. I felt their bravery in my skin, strength, courage, and wisdom embedded in my very bones. Being a Callahan is a responsibility I took advantage of and used my skill set and intelligence to make our name infamous.

« Gather our men, cousin. Call the Bratva and tell them Oisín calls for aid. It looks like our invitation got lost in the mail. »

**

« Did you buy a new suit, cousin ? » Liam taunted me from behind me as I fixed my tie.

« Of course. It’s my wedding today. I need to look good for my bride. »

He shook his head as he laughed. « You’re a maniac. She is going to fight you to the death. »

I brought my hands up. « I welcome it. Ensure Aofie’s safety, and I want this house locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Where are the Bratva ? »

« The Pakhan couldn’t come. His daughter is in the hospital giving birth, but he sent his eldest son, Roman, and fifty men. »

I did a quick calculation in my head. The numbers were looking well, and since we had the element of surprise, this would be a quick fight. « Good. Where is Roman ? »

« Outside. »

I ran hands down my suit and once more through my hair before we stepped outside and towards the living room.

« Roman. » I greeted in respect.

Roman was Igor’s eldest son. His other two sons were still in middle school, but I’d met them occasionally. Roman was a good man and a good husband. He was loyal to his father and respectful, and I admired him.

He had long hair that he kept tight in a braid, and once he saw me, he took off his glasses, revealing those indigo eyes that his father had. Roman was skillful with a knife and could quickly gut you without a second thought.

He was less skillful with a gun but was a good shot if needed. I only kept those of proved themselves courageous close to me, and Roman and his father have done that and more.

« Oisín. » He smiled and shook my hand firmly before pulling me in and patting my back. « Congratulations. My father informed me of your future nuptials and says it’s good luck to congratulate you now. »

I pulled away, and the three of us sat back down. One of my men poured us all a drink and passed it around.

« Your father’s a very smart man. I pray for your sister and nephew’s safety and health. » I tilted my cup toward him. « Za nashe zdorov’ye. » I spoke in perfect Russian.

Elena

I couldn’t stop crying, and the poor lady doing my makeup seemed more anxious than angry as she calmed me down. Nonna stayed close to me, holding my hands and offering as much comfort as she could. My mother and I had fought the night before, and she proved she was still angry in the far corner of the room as she downed an entire bottle of wine.

I had begged her the other night to get Enzo to call it off, but she was still mourning for my father, and our fight escalated, and our screams grew. Enzo interrupted our argument by dragging me out of my mother’s room and back to my room.

He had gripped my elbow so hard that he left bruises, and my fingers skirted over them absentmindedly. I didn’t know what was worse, the bruises or the fact that his abuse didn’t relent.

He threatened me that night, and his words ran like knives through my heart. I sat in a wedding dress with tears falling down my face, and I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that I was getting married in a few hours.

It was cruel of Enzo to do this to me and even crueler, he waited for our father to pass to force me into this marriage. My father would have never done this to me, and the thought of my father had me crying harder.

Pamila set her makeup brush down on the table and pulled me in for a hug, rubbing my back and attempting to comfort me. But it didn’t comfort me. I didn’t want to get married to some man I didn’t know. I didn’t want to get married and be shipped to Florida. My life was here in Henderson with my family.

I couldn’t fathom a life where I couldn’t see my mother, my nonna, my cousins or wake up and get dressed to head to the bakery and bake. My heart ached tremendously, and even though I was still shaking, the crying somewhat seized, and Pamila pulled away.

Wiping my tears away with a wipe, she began the process all over again. Finally, I was able to stop crying long enough for her to finish my makeup. She began working on my hair, and I refused to even look in the mirror. I didn’t want to see myself.

I wasn’t a blushing bride. I wasn’t a happy bride. I was being forced into this, and I hated it. I hated the dress, the flowers, the makeup, and the hair. I hated the revenue, and I hated my brother.

How could he do this to me ? Didn’t he love me ? I knew we weren’t always so close, but we were family. He was my brother, my only brother, and yet he felt no remorse. He didn’t regret anything.

I sniffled as Pamila did my hair, adding too many pins to count and offering me small smiles. My nonna squeezed my hand in reassurance, and I looked down at our joined hands. She was weak and fragile, yet she was stronger than me. My nonna was a blessing, and I love her so very much.

« Starai bene. » She murmured in a shaky voice.

(Translation : You’ll be fine.)

Her pearly white hair was in a neat bun, and she was in a knitted two-piece skirt and blazer. My nonna hated jewelry and only ever wore her wedding band around her finger. She was the most sophisticated person I ever knew, and I treasured her with all my heart. I kissed both of her hands and placed them on my chest.

My chin trembled, and I smiled through the sadness. « I will be, » I assured her.

Thirty minutes later, Pamila was pulling away and tidying up my veil from behind as she encouraged me to look in the mirror. It’s not that I wasn’t beautiful or that I was insecure. I wasn’t. I loved myself and learned to love my body.