Instead I say, “Where’s Callum? Did he drown?”
“Luckily for you, he did not,” Fergus replies.
Papa, Dante, and Nero close rank around me. They might be angry as hell that I got us into this mess, but they’re not going to stand for anyone threatening me.
“Don’t talk to her,” Dante says roughly.
With a little more tact, Papa says, “You wanted a meeting. Let’s go inside and have one.”
Fergus nods. His two men enter the restaurant first, making sure it really is empty inside. This place belongs to Ellis Foster, a restaurateur and broker who has connections to both the Irish and our family. That’s why it’s neutral ground.
Once we’re all inside, Fergus says to my father, “I think it’s best if we speak alone.”
Papa slowly nods.
“Wait here,” he says to my brothers.
Papa and Fergus disappear into one of the private dining rooms, closed off by double glass doors. I can see their outlines as they sit down together, but I can’t make out any details of their expressions. And I can’t hear a word they’re saying.
Dante and Nero pull a couple of chairs out from the nearest table. Fergus’s men do the same at a table ten feet away. My brothers and I sit along the same side, so we can glare across at Fergus’s goons while we wait.
That keeps us occupied for about ten minutes. But looking at their ugly mugs is pretty boring. Waiting in general is boring. I’d like to get a drink from the bar, or maybe even poke into the kitchen for a snack.
The second I start to rise up from my seat, Dante says, “Don’t even think about it,” without looking at me.
“I’m hungry,” I tell him.
Nero has his knife out and he’s playing with it. He can do all sorts of tricks. The blade is so sharp that if he made a mistake, he’d lop off a finger. But he hasn’t made one yet.
It might look like he’s trying to intimidate Griffin’s men, but it’s not for their benefit. He does this all the time.
“I don’t understand how you’re the one that eats the most out of any of us,” Nero says, without looking up from his knife.
“I don’t!”
“How many times have you eaten today already? Tell the truth.”
“Four,” I lie.
“Bullshit,” Nero scoffs.
“I’m not as worried about my figure as you are,” I tease him.
Nero is vain about his appearance. With good reason—all my brothers are handsome, but Nero has that male-model prettiness that seems to make girls’ panties spontaneously combust. I don’t know a single girl who hasn’t slept with him, or tried to.
It’s a weird thing to know about your own brother, but we’re all pretty open with each other. That’s what comes of living in the same house for so long, with no mom around to keep them from treating me like just another little brother.
And that’s how I like it. I’m not anti-woman—I’ve got no problem with girls who want to be pretty or feminine or sexy or whatever the hell. I just don’t want to be “treated like a girl,” if that makes sense. I want to be treated as myself, for better or worse. Nothing more or nothing less. Just Aida.
Aida who is bored out of her mind.
Aida who is starting to get sleepy.
Aida who is heartily regretting annoying the Griffins, if only because I’m going to be trapped here until the end of time while Fergus and Papa talk and talk and talk forever . . .
And then finally, almost three hours later, the two patriarchs come out of the private dining room, both looking somber and resigned.
“Well?” Dante says.
“It’s settled,” Papa replies.
He sounds like a judge pronouncing a sentence. I don’t like his tone one bit, or the expression on his face. He’s looking at me mournfully.
As we head outside, he says to Nero, “Take my car back. I’m going to drive home with Aida.”
Nero nods and gets in Papa’s Mercedes. Dante climbs into the driver’s side of the SUV, and Papa gets in the back with me.
I definitely don’t like this at all.
I turn to face him, not bothering with my seatbelt.
“What is it?” I say. “What did you decide?”
“You’re going to marry Callum Griffin in two weeks,” Papa says.
This is so ridiculous that I actually laugh—a weird, barking sound that fades away in the silent car.
Papa is watching me, the lines on his face more deeply engraved than ever. His eyes look completely black in the dim light inside the car.
“You can’t be serious,” I say.
“I am absolutely serious. This is not up for debate. It’s settled with the Griffins.”
“I’m not getting married!” I say. “Especially not to that psychopath.”
I look to the driver’s seat for Dante’s support. He’s staring straight forward at the road, hands clenched on the steering wheel.
My father looks exhausted.
“This feud has been going on too long,” he says. “It’s an ember that smolders and smolders and continually bursts into flame, burning down everything we’ve worked for. The last time we had an eruption, you lost two of your uncles. Our family is smaller than it should be, because of the Griffins. The same is true for them. Too many people lost on both sides, down through the generations. It’s time for that to change. It’s time for the opposite to happen. We will align together. We will prosper together.”
“Why do I have to get married for that to happen?” I shout. “That won’t help anything! Because I’m going to murder that bastard the moment I see him!”
“You’ll do as you’re told!” my father snaps. I can see that his patience is at an end. It’s 3:00 in the morning. He’s tired, and he looks old. He is old, really. He was forty-eight when he had me. He’s nearly seventy now.
“I’ve spoiled you,” he says, fixing me with those black eyes. “Let you run wild. You’ve never had to face the consequences of your actions. Now you will. You lit the match that started this particular blaze. It’s you who will have to put it out again. Not by violence, but by your own sacrifice. You’ll marry Callum Griffin. You’ll bear the children that will be the next generation of our mutual lineage. That is the agreement. And you will uphold it.”
This is some kind of fucking nightmare.
I’m getting married?
I’m having fucking babies?!
And I’m supposed to do it with the man I hate worse than anyone on this planet?
“He crippled Sebastian!” I shout, my last-ditch effort to express how utterly revolting this man is to me.
“That’s as much on your head as his,” Papa says coldly.
There’s nothing I can say in response to that.
Because deep down, I know that it’s true.
6
Callum
I’m sitting on the back deck, watching the hired staff clean up the last remnants of trash and supplies from the party. They’ve been working all night. My mother insisted that it all be cleaned up immediately, so none of our neighbors would have to see a hint of disarray on our grounds on their way to work in the morning.