We make our way to the counter, and he places a thick wad of bills down.
“This is for any damage. My men will handle the cleanup.”
The cashier nods, his face instantly shifting into a mask of respect, though I have a feeling he’s the owner.
“It’s no problem at all, Mr. Marinov. You have a good day.”
I glance at the cameras above us, knowing full well they’re not recording.
As we head back to the car, I wrap my arms around his bicep. The quiet between us stretches, thick with unspoken words, and I can’t deny it anymore.
I’m falling for him. Hard. Fast.
The realization claws at me, terrifying me. Because I know I’m already too far gone, too tangled in him, to protect whatever’s left of my heart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
KONSTANTIN
Guests shuffleinto the grand entryway two days later, their laughter and voices bouncing off the marble floors. But none of them really interest me, my eyes constantly flicking toward the stairs, waiting for Tessa to walk down.
She’s been quiet since the day at the store, understandably shaken, and I blame myself for taking that business call. If I hadn’t, no man would have laid a finger on her. It’ll never happen again as long as I live.
Every time I close my eyes, I can’t get her expression out of my head. The way she looked while she choked the life out of him, like she wasn’t really there. I don’t even think she heard me calling her until I touched her.
My fingers curl at my side. Whatever she’s been through, it left an impact, and I will do everything I can to give her a better life.
More guests begin to pour in, drawing my attention, and soon, theQuinns appear at the entrance. Tynan, head of the Irish family, steps inside first with his wife, Elara, on his arm.
“Congratulations.” There’s a hint of amusement as he says that. “Can’t say I ever expected to see you tie the knot.”
Elara quickly elbows him, offering a warm smile in contrast. “What he means is, we’re truly happy for you. We can’t wait to meet her.”
“Bolshoye spasebo, dorogaya.”Thank you very much, darling.
Tynan’s brother Fionn and his wife, Amara, follow with their congratulations, more genuine and polite. Then their youngest sister, Eriu, steps in with her husband, Devlin.
“A bloody congratulations, you fecker,” Devlin says with a sharp grin, slapping me on the back hard enough to jar bone, while Eriu laughs, clearly amused.
And then Iseult Quinn-Marino struts in with her husband, Gio of the Messina crime family, right beside her. Her eyes lock on to mine as she strides toward me, that trademark smirk playing at her lips. I pity any man or woman who underestimates her. She’s a force, the oldest sister in the family, and one of the deadliest assassins I’ve ever encountered.
“Well, well, well, Konstantin,” she drawls, her tone laced with mockery. “Never thought I’d see the day you got married. I could’ve sworn you’d die alone. I was almost getting sad for you. Almost.”
A grin spreads across my face as I approach, wrapping my arms around her before greeting Gio with a nod. “You flatter me, dorogaya.”
She steps closer, her smile ice cold. “I’ll offer my condolences to your wife as soon as I meet her.”
“She’ll enjoy that.”
“Oh, then we’ll get along so well.” Her eyes sweep the room. “Where is she, anyway? She’s like a mythical creature. One has to see her to believe she’s real.”
Laughter ripples through the room, mine included.
“She’s getting ready. Should be down soon. In the meantime, head outside. There’s food, drinks, and more than enough to keep you entertained. I promise she’ll make her rounds.”
“Can’t wait.”
Then Cillian Quinn steps through the doorway with my cousin, Dinara, on one arm and her sister, Tatiana, beside them.
