Page 11 of The Wrong Mafia Bride
“I’m not hungry,” I answer evenly.
He scoffs. “That’s bullshit. You have never not been hungry.”
“We had a big lunch,” Erin cuts in quickly, smiling too wide.
Seamus’s eyes narrow. “Funny, because I hear you two haven’t been in the same room together, let alone broken bread.”
“I’ve been busy with the wedding,” Erin says smoothly, her smile tightening at the edges.
I snort before I can stop myself, the sound sharp and ugly in the quiet that follows. She has been busy, just not with anything related to this marriage. She has been busy finding moments with Dolan whenever someone looks the other way, busy carving out a future that does not include the man she is meant to marry. Maybe that is why this burns so badly, why the silence feels likebetrayal layered on top of betrayal. Why would she keep this from me? Why would she treat me like an afterthought? Did she really believe I would not keep her secret? Did she think I would not protect her, like I always have, like I promised I always would, even if it meant standing against our father? I love her. I have always loved her. How could she ever doubt that?
“You have something to say?” Erin snaps, her voice sharp enough to draw blood. “Because if you do, now would be a great time to say it.”
“I have nothing to say,” I reply, my tone flat and controlled.
“That’s a lie,” she fires back, pushing her chair back slightly. “You’ve been glaring at me for two days like I committed a crime.”
“You did,” I answer quietly.
The room tightens in the silence that follows and I watch the muscle ticking in Erin’s jaw. Patrick shifts in his chair, clearly uncomfortable, and Seamus’s gaze hardens, the humor draining from his face as he looks between us.
“Both of you have been at each other for two days, and I am over it,” he says firmly.
Erin turns to him at once. “Daddy?—”
“No,” Seamus cuts in, raising a hand. “No, I thought Rosie’s favorite dinner and a Guinness chocolate cake for Erin would make this better. I thought it was cold feet, but obviously it is something more.”
“It’s nothing,” I mutter, looking down at my pie again.
He looks at me then, his expression unreadable. “You calling me a liar, Rosalina?”
“No, Papa but--”
He gestures toward the hallway with two fingers, a small motion that carries the weight of a command. “Go outside. Talk it out. I won’t have my house tense on the eve of my daughter’s wedding.”
Erin stands immediately, her chair scraping softly against the floor as she pushes it back. The sound slices through my nerves sharper than her raised voice ever could. She does not look at me as she rises, and that hurts more than if she had, because it tells me she already knows this conversation will cost her something.
I follow a second later, my movements controlled to the point of stiffness. Every instinct in me is screaming to stay, to keep my eyes on Father, to read his face for any sign that he already suspects the truth, but discipline wins out over fear. I straighten my spine, set my shoulders, and step away from the table like a guard dismissed from duty rather than a daughter being sent to settle a private war.
My jaw is locked tight enough to ache, tension crawling up my neck and settling behind my eyes. I am acutely aware of how exposed my back feels as I turn, of how vulnerable Erin is walking ahead of me without my body between her and anything that might strike. I have spent years positioning myself instinctively in front of danger, and now I am being told to step aside and talk instead, as if words can shield her the way I have.
Behind us, Seamus turns back to Patrick, his tone lightening despite his irritation. “The flaws of raising two young women.”
Patrick chuckles. “Don’t worry, Seamus. I remember the teenage years. It was like a minefield.”
I hear the unmistakable sound of Patrick’s hand smacking Seamus’s shoulder, friendly and familiar.
Seamus lifts his glass slightly. “Then let’s drink to escaping the teenage years.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Patrick laughs, just as the dining room doors close behind us.
The minute I enter the hallway I notice two guards lingering near the corner by the stairwell, murmuring quietly to each other as they trade watch notes. Another stands farther down the corridor, posture relaxed but eyes alert, pretending not to notice us while noticing everything. Anything that is said in the hallway will be told back to Seamus, so I keep that in mind, but I don’t think Erin noticed.
Erin spins toward me the moment we clear the threshold, her face flushed, eyes bright with frustration. “You didn’t have to embarrass me like that.”
I stop short, my voice already sharp when I answer. “You embarrassed yourself when you lied to his face. Oh, I’m Erin and I have have been busy getting ready to get married tomorrow.”
Her breath hitches. “I did not lie. I have been getting ready.”
