Page 18 of Conor
Conor hasn’t taken his eyes off me. And when the vows are read, he repeats them back word for word like they really mean something to him. It scares me even more than the idea that they don’t. Nevertheless, I find myself caught up in the moment, repeating them back just the same.
The ceremony is short, simple, and to the point. It’s over before I can really grasp what I’ve done. And then the officiant pronounces us husband and wife.
Mr. and Mrs. O’Callahan.
She tells Conor he can kiss me, and nervous laughter bubbles up my throat but gets caught there before it can escape. He’s staring at me like he didn’t think about this part. I’m trying to think of something to say, but Conor surprises me when he steps forward and slides his hand up to rest on the back of my neck.
“Just a wee one,” he whispers. And then his head tilts toward mine, hot lips brushing against my mouth that currently feels like the desert.
I’m too stunned to think about it. I can’t understand what’s happening when Conor lets out the smallest of groans, and I start to kiss him back. My lips part, and his tongue invades my mouth as his grip on me tightens. My head spins, and I feel off balance, almost drunk as I melt into his body. He’s so bad for me, but nothing else has ever felt so good.
He tastes of whiskey and mint and danger.So much danger.Surely, I should remember that. But I can’t seem to think of anything else when my hands curl into his vest, adhering to him as our simple kiss turns into an almost x rated show for the officiant.
Conor is the one who finally pulls away, breathless and stunned as his brows pinch together and he examines me like he doesn’t know what just happened either. Neither of us acknowledges it as we put ourselves back together and look anywhere but at each other.
At Conor’s request, the clerk snaps a few perfunctory photos of us, and then we are free to leave. Or in their words, free to start our lives of wedded bliss together.
Outside City Hall, the rest of the bleeding world carries on with their lives as if they don’t have a clue how badly I’ve just fucked up mine. I offer Ivy a smile for her benefit, but she doesn’t notice. As soon as we stepped outside, she shut down, opting for despondency as we drive in silence.
I want to assure her again that everything is going to be alright, but I can’t find it in me to do it. Telling Crow that I’ve gone behind his back and married the girl I was supposed to kill is not a recipe for good things to come.
The enormity of what I’ve done hits me in waves. I don’t suspect Ivy is all that clued in on our mafia culture, and I probably should have warned her that when we marry, that contract lasts a lifetime. It doesn’t matter if she hates the sight of me, we signed our names on the dotted line and now she’s mine and I’m hers.Forever.
When I sneak a glance at her, pale and uncertain, it occurs to me that I like the idea of that a little too much. As fecked up as the whole situation might be, the man in me is satisfied with the fact that I’ve laid claim to her. At least, in my own mind. It will take some time before I confess to Crow. I need to let him get used to the idea before I drop a bomb like this.
There are rules we all have to abide by. And if there’s one thing I can be certain of, it’s that I’ve saved Ivy’s life and secured her protection from the brotherhood.
Wives are off limits.
Maybe it’s cheap, but Crow will have to honor that sacred agreement. It doesn’t mean he can’t and won’t have me killed for it though. What I’ve done is a betrayal of our trust, and I’ll remember that every time I look myself in the mirror.
I never thought there was anything that could test my loyalty. Two weeks ago, nothing could have convinced me otherwise. But two weeks ago, I didn’t know her. There is something about this girl that crawled under my skin the moment she stumbled into my life. It was easy to believe that I did all of this because of the kid. I didn’t want him growing up an orphan. But that has nothing to do with the way my eyes have been roaming over her. Or the fact that when we kissed it was like ten thousand volts of electricity straight to my dick. Now all I can seem to think about is being inside of her. Owning her. Laying claim to her body and her mind.
Ivy doesn’t seem to be on the same train of thought. Her hands curl together in her lap all the way home and she stares out the window, silent. I want to know what she’s thinking. I want to know what she’s feeling, and I hate myself for it.
If this is going to work, I need to cop on to myself. Ivy isn’t here because she likes me. She isn’t here because she wants me. She’s here because it’s the only way she can stay alive. At the end of the day, there will always be a part of her that hates me.
The reality of our situation makes my throat itch for a drink and my fists desperate to pummel a punching bag just to bleed some of this tension out of my body. But before I do any of that I have to establish the ground rules with her.
The moment we walk in the door, she tries to make a mad dash down the hall to change out of her dress, and I grab her by the arm. She looks up at me, wide eyed, pink cheeks, and so pretty I could fuck her right now. I wonder if she’s thought about it. I wonder if the idea repulses her. And then I wonder what the fuck is wrong with me.
I tell her to sit down on the couch and she does. My eyes rake over her, and she’s back to being skittish as a fecking mouse. We have a long way to go. She’s been beaten down by life and hungry for far too long and I intend to put a good twenty pounds back on her frame by feeding her regular meals and taking care of her. But the first thing I need to do is establish how this relationship is going to work between us.
“I have to go out tonight,” I tell her. “Work shite. But before you go getting any big ideas about running out on me, I need you to know one thing. If ye do run there isn’t a place on this earth I won’t find you. That my brothers won’t find you. And those vows we said today, I meant them, Ivy. I hope you took them seriously, because I won’t be able to save you if you break them. I know what Muerto did to you. I know the threats he made. But ye have my word as long as there’s breath in my lungs Archer will be safe. I can’t promise you the same unless you stay here and abide by my rules.”
Her eyes are glassy, but she jerks her chin in agreement. I’m fairly certain I’ve made my point when she comes back at me with something I seem to have forgotten.
“I still have to work tonight,” she says. “Crow is expecting me, and I can’t let him down.”
Her observation feeds the irritation festering inside of me. She’s right that Crow’s expecting her, but that isn’t what bothers me. What bothers me is that she wants to go. It shouldn’t make a damn bit of difference to me. I have no reason to deny her being up on that stage for all the world to see. Other than the fact that she’s now my wife, and I don’t want any other bleeding imbeciles looking at her like that. But I’m not about to admit that to her especially when I don’t want her getting any ideas that this is any sort of romantic arrangement between us.
Ivy holds her breath and waits for me to tell her what we’re going to do.
“I still want to work,” she volunteers. “I can’t just sit around here with nothing to do, and I gave Crow my word.”
I want to prove it makes no goddamned difference to me, and that’s the reason I find myself nodding along. But I can’t change the fact that my voice is full of acid. “If shaking your arse up on stage for all the lads to see is what gets your jollies off, be my guest. You better sort yourself out because I’m heading to the club in ten minutes.”
And with that sentiment I leave her on the couch while I fuck on out the door to wait in the car.
