“Hear me out. You don’t want to marry, but you have to. So if you have to do it anyway, why not marry someone you like? Someone you might even be able to love. Besides, being single in our world is dangerous. You need protection.”
I glance over his shoulder at my dad. Even though my parents had an arranged marriage, they always seemed to be happy with one another. Well, until her “sickness” took hold.
“I’m listening,” I tell Killian, willing to hear him out.
“Shane wants a connection between us and another group. How do you feel about Italians? I know here you guys aren’t as friendly, but I’m friendly with the Italians in New York.”
“I don’t know. Dad doesn’t like them. He is more worried about the Yakuza than any other group, but the Italians would be second on that list for him. That’s all I know.” I shrug.
He shakes his head. “Your father’s sheltering you too much. They have their own business dealings. Theirs are not the worst of them. The group I know has proven to be stand-up guys. Well, as much as you can guess without fully trusting the other. The one woman I know in their outfit is treated well. I could see if one of them would want to court you.”
“I hate that this is how I have to live my life. Can I think about it?” I plead.
“Of course. Let me know if you want me to run it by your father. I know this sucks. I just want you to have a little bit of a choice in this. I will do what I can to give you as much of a choice as I can.”
He pulls me in close, then kisses the top of my head. He glances over my shoulder and tenses.
“I’ll be right back.”
Before I can respond, he leaves me on the dance floor.
I watch as he marches over to the woman, who is now engaged in a conversation with another man.
I slowly make my way off the dance floor, but Father grabs me. “Cliona, I have someone I want you to meet.”
I glance over his shoulder and see a group of three older men waiting for us. My stomach turns. I knew a much older man was an option, but I never thought my father would go that far.
“Can I have a minute? I apologize, Father, I have to use the ladies’ room.”
He narrows his eyes, his hand tightening on my arm. “Of course. Come right back.”
I hear the warning in his tone.
I hurry out of the room and down the hall toward the restroom. I try the door, but find it locked. I let out a sigh of relief that I don’t have to make up a reason as to why it took so long to come back.
“Having that much fun, princess?”
My skin tingles at the deep voice coming from the dark end of the hall. The figure steps from the shadow, causing my heart to pick up its pace, thundering loudly in my chest. Standing less than five feet from me stands the most gorgeous man I have ever seen in real life. He’s only two or three inches taller than me. The man, and I mean all man, has jet black hair that is perfectly in place. My eyes take it upon themselves to peruse his body, taking in the perfectly tailored suit, hugging what I can only assume is a perfect body. Bringing my eyes back to his face, I meet his amused chocolate brown eyes.
“Like what you see, princess?” he asks, adjusting his glasses with his tattooed hand.
It takes me a moment, but I realize who is standing in front of me.
Haruaki Takahashi.
My nerves go haywire.
The Yakuza are our biggest rivals in Chicago. If I even think I see one, I am supposed to leave the area immediately and call for an extraction. That is, if my handler hasn’t already extracted me himself.
That was another downfall of being the daughter of an Irish mob Boss. I was usually not allowed to go anywhere without a guard.
That begs the question. Where is my guard now?
“You shouldn’t be talking to me,” I say, standing tall and facing him head-on.
Everything in me begs me to turn and run away from this man, but another part, the rebellious one, doesn’t want to show my fear.
Later, I might think back to this moment and think about how stupid I’m being, but I’m tired of these men running my life.
