Aweek later, I’m staring into Danica’s tired blue eyes, my butt freezing to the metal patio set of the outdoor café. The large cinderblocks surround the tables and chairs from moving traffic, and the umbrellas overhead dull the hazy sunlight. It’s not warm enough for a sundress—yet—but I’m holding out hope that real spring is right around the corner.
Across from me, Danica wears a large purple sweater and tight jean skirt one season past its prime. In the light of day, and without drugs, she looks drawn, depleted.
I hold the cup of coffee between two hands, sucking up its warmth to fight against the late chill.
I ignore the cold and the various people who gawk at me. Most are waiting for me to screw up, to make a mess. A part of me despises the joy people take in my downfall, but a bigger part relishes knowing they’re paying attention to me.
“I’m glad to see you’re alright,” Danica says gently, sipping her tea, soft British accent heavy with fatigue. “I thought that man was going to kill you and dump your body in the harbor.”
“You could have stayed,” I comment, ignoring the pang in my heart. She abandoned me, deciding it was more important to take care of herself than to look out for me.
Honestly, it’s not surprising. She’s someone I can have fun with, who is as much a mess as I am. If I expected her to stay, that’d be my mistake.
There’s still a pang of disappointment, though.
I haven’t seen or spoken to Danica since the night at the club, over a week ago.
If the mystery man hadn’t been there to intervene, my night would have looked differently. I don’t really care; it’s a pretty common occurrence.
I didn’t even get his name before his driver took me home. Not like it mattered. I’m sure once I was married to his second, I’d know all the men in the De Luca family.
To have that accent, he must be closely related. Maybe a cousin.
Danica shifts, uncomfortably. “Oh, come now, you were fine. And look, you even got to meet someone in the family you’re being forced to married into.”
I frown. I hate being reminded of that. “Right. A super bonus there, D. Instead of sticking it out and getting me home, you left me with some mobster wannabe and didn’t even call to check on me.”
“In my defense.” She holds up a finger. The bright pink nail is chipped. “I was pretty wasted. I got home, somehow, and then passed out. I didn’t wake up until like the next night.”
I glare dryly. This is just typical.
“Anyway…” She taps the metal table in thought, ignoring my frown. “You’re alive, that’s nice. Also, great touch on the billboard.” I smirk at her dangerous wink.
It was childish, but after my conversation with the mystery man, I realized what I was headed for. No more freedom, no more nights out. No matter what his cousin said, that I’d be a leader, a partner in the family, I knew what was coming. He’d want a traditional wife.
I am not that wife. I won’t be. And I wanted him to know that in advance.
So in true Sloane uncontrollable fashion, I decided to take out a billboard on the interstate. Perfect view for incoming drivers, tourists, and if you had the right spot in the city, you could see it from your window.
Like from the family mansion that Nico De Luca lived in. With his nephew, Alessio.
A nephew who probably woke up the day after my brief, irritating interlude with his man, coffee in hand and looked out across the city he thought he owned and saw my message to him.
‘Alessio De Luca, thanks for the crabs. I prefer the ones from the sea, though.’
Maeve still hasn’t said anything to me about it. I’m practically humming with energy waiting for her backlash. If she’s like Pops, there will be a fight waiting for me any day now.
Once Alessio sees it, I’m sure he’ll be too embarrassed to go through with the wedding. What man wants his future bride spewing secrets of sexually transmitted diseases and therefore emasculating him? What man wants a wife bold enough to plaster it on a billboard?
No mobster would tolerate it.
Alessio will call off the wedding, I just know it. Then, Maeve won’t be able to claim I didn’t follow her decree. I’ll still have my family, my home, and I won’t be forced out into some creep’s bed, worried he’ll kill me in the middle of the night.
I’ll be free.
“I’m thinking we go out tonight and paint the town red. Maybe I repay the favor in the club.” Her bright blue eyes darken at the thought.
I’m not high nor warm enough to even flirt. I just don’t have it in me.
“Can’t. I’m needed at home.” I bring the cup to my mouth. “Maeve set up a little meet and greet for my future husband and his family. An engagement dinner.” I roll my eyes at the irony. “I’m expected to be there.”
Is it childish to hope Alessio doesn’t show to the dinner, too enraged at the billboard and wanting to annul the contract? Maybe. But it’s a hope I’m holding on to with two hands and a big fucking wish.
“Ew.” She wrinkles her nose. “An engagement dinner, like you see on all those old money TV shows? Next, they’ll have you wearing mink cowls, pushing a baby stroller, pregnant with your second before the end of your third year of marriage.”
Danica has made it abundantly clear she doesn’t want children and marriage in her future. And until recently, I didn’t think I did either.
I can’t deny the idea of being a mom, a better mom that what I ever had, is something I’d like to see. Not now. But someday.
Preferably when I’m free of this marriage contract.
“It’s what they wanted.” I can’t help the shrug, fighting against a breeze. “Maeve is in charge, and as long as I’m an O’Brien, I have to follow her rule.”
“Actually, you don’t,” she says, draining her cup. “You could be like Briar and just take off.”
I shake my head, already not listening. “No, that’s different. Briar left without getting his decree. Pops never cut him off, because if he did, everyone would know he couldn’t handle his children.” Much like he always tried to wrangle me in private, using his fists to deter my wild ways. “Maeve has given me a choice. If I don’t take it, I’m out. No communication, no money, nothing.”
I can’t imagine how Briar has handled being on his own for so long, alone.
“Is that such a bad thing?”
Narrowing my eyes, I try not to let her callousness get to me. Danica is estranged from her parents since we graduated high school; they didn’t approve of her sexuality and decided it was easier if they lived apart. They still send her money to stay in the states, so she’s cared for, but they rarely talk.
“My family might be shit, but they’re still mine.” We didn’t have the normal upbringing that most kids got, but I still remember the good times.
Collins and I staying up late, sneaking treats from the pantry after dinner. Briar and I climbing through the woods behind the house, pretending we were on an adventure.
Even Maeve, smiling at me over one of her books, as I twirled and danced on the patio before my ballet recitals.
It’s been a long time since we’ve been that happy with each other, but they’re still my siblings. They’re still my family. I don’t want to cut them off.
“Anyway,” Danica interrupts, leaning back in her chair. “There’s a party tonight. Very exclusive. Very high-end. It’s on one of those yachts that just pulled in. Blow off that dinner and come with me.” Her eyes light up as she speaks. “I hear the host is a hot shot European rich boy. They always have the best candies.”
Candies meaning drugs.
Shaking my head, I sigh. “The dinner starts at seven.” And Collins has been made my jailer to make sure I attend.
She pouts, but I don’t miss the flash of frustration in those eyes. She hates being pushed aside. Unless she’s the one doing it.
“You think he’ll show?” She glances up, toward where the billboard sits behind the brick buildings and skyscrapers. “That was a large red flag you paid for.”
I smirk against the cold. “Fingers crossed. Most men in this life don’t want a disrespecting wife. They want someone obedient. Quiet. That billboard is a powder keg ready to blow up Alessio De Luca’s perfect image.”
“What if your sister makes you go through with it? She’s kind of a monster.”
Draining the rest of the frigid coffee, I hunker into my red wool coat. “I’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” I have more tricks up my sleeve.
So far, I’ve been a participant in this arrangement. No more. I have ideas and ways to break this contract if the billboard doesn’t.
There’s a reason Sloane O’Brien is always on the front page when I screw up. I do it spectacularly.
Checking my phone, I see Collins’ message.
Collins: Be home soon, we need to make sure you’re presentable.
I can’t stop rolling my eyes. My perfect older sister is making sure I don’t skip out or do anything to embarrass Maeve.
The urge to spite her, spite Maeve for this whole situation, rears its ugly head like a snake readying to strike. But I can’t risk either of their retaliations.
“Raincheck,” I promise. I don’t immediately shoot her down—I might need an escape if he shows to this dinner and isn’t deter by my sign.
Texting a reply, I harden my resolve. I can’t falter in this plan. Before, I was willing to go along with Maeve’s order because that was expected. Now?
Now, I’m readying for a war. I don’t want to be the kind of wife people like my father demanded. I want to be free, to explore, to enjoy life without a man who would leash me.
If Alessio is like every other man in this city, he’ll expect me to bow to him.
Sloane O’Brien doesn’t bow. Especially to a man.
