Chapter 15: I got the wrong sister.
"Then why are we doing this?"
"Because I’m trying to make sure there aren’t more graves."
His jaw tightens.
"You really think they’ll honor the agreement?"
"I think they know what happens if they don’t."
Jeremiah scoffs.
"And you think marrying one of them magically fixes everything?"
"No."
I look toward the mansion again.
"Nothing magically fixes anything....especially not this much blood."
The truth is, I don’t expect peace to come easily.
There are too many scars, too much blood nd too much hatred built into both families but someone has to stop it and if neither side is willing to put down their weapons, then I’ll force them to.
Jeremiah shakes his head.
"You’re sacrificing yourself for people who wouldn’t do the same for you."
I look at him.
"They’re my people."
"They’re not worth this."
"They are."
He goes quiet.
I reach over and tap his shoulder.
"Come on."
He doesn’t move so I give him a warning look.
"Jerry."
He finally follows.
We start toward the mansion, each step brings me closer to the Luciano family.
Closer to the agreement, closer to the woman whose name I barely know.
The moment I walk through those doors, everything changes. I’ll be tied to the Luciano family, their enemies become mine, their problems become mine and their daughter becomes my wife.
I stop at the entrance.
Jeremiah looks at me.
"You ready?"
No.
Not even remotely br I nod anyway.
"Let’s get this over with."
The doors open.
And the moment I step inside, every Luciano guard in the room turns toward me.
Their hands hover near their weapons.
My men do the same.
One wrong movement, one stupid decision and weeks of negotiations will disappear beneath a pile of bodies.
I keep walking.
I don’t look at anyon, I to don’t need to.
I’m here to end a war not continue it.
Even if it means marrying the enemy to do it.
I step into the conference room expecting....i don’t know what I was expecting but it’s definitely not her.
For one fucking second, I forget how to breathe. She’s standing near the table, her back partly turned toward me, listening to someone speak.
Dark hair....That slightly familiar posture, my heart gives one hard, vicious beat against my ribs.
No. It can’t be.
I stare at her.
Four years disappear replaced by a woman kneeling in front of me while I had a gun pressed against her head....a woman who should have been terrified enough to run.
Instead, she had looked me directly in the eyes and told me she wasn’t trying to hurt me.
Then she’d dragged my half-dead body into her apartment.
She had saved my life.
My Riot....The name had come to me that night.
She had been small compared to me, but somehow she’d made enough noise to fill the entire fucking room.
Brave, annoying.....cause she spoke too much but damn was she beautiful.
I’d thought about her more times than I cared to admit. After I recovered, I went back.
I needed to find her, I told myself it was because I owed her.
That was the lie.
I wanted to see her again, I wanted to know who she was, I wanted to know why a woman who had every reason to run from a bleeding stranger had stayed.
But when I found the apartment building, the place was no longer hers.
Someone else lived there.
I even had the man investigated, the person looked nothing like her.
Nothing.
And after a while, I jst stopped looking.
Not because I didn’t want to bt because there was nothing left to find, I had assumed I’d never see her again.
And now she’s standing three feet away from me.
Alive, older and more beautiful than I remember.
My gaze moves over her face.
It’s her.
There is no doubt, those eyes, the face.
The man across the table looks at the young woman beside him nd the first time since we walked into this room, he doesn’t look like the Don.
He looks like a tired old man....almost regretful too.
I don’t know these people well enough to know what that means, but whatever he’s about to say clearly isn’t something anyone in this room wants to hear.
"There isn’t an easy way to say this."
The young woman beside him frowns.
I glance at Jeremiah as th man exhales slowly and leans back in his chair.
"If there were another way..."
He pauses.
Hs eyes briefly dropping to the table before returning to the young woman.
"...I’d take it."
Her brows pull together.
"Take what?"
The man’s jaw tightens.
"But there isn’t. Not one that doesn’t end in more blood."
The young woman’s expression changes.
"Uncle, what are you talking about?"
Uncle.....So this is her uncle.
"You’re going to marry Lysander Sanchez."
Everything stops as fr a second, I don’t understand the sentence.
The woman is going to marry me.
I look at her....its.....it’s not my Riot.
"What?"
The man’s voice remains steady.
"You will marry Lysander. The marriage will seal the agreement between our families and bring the war to an end."
I glance across the table.
The dark-haired woman is still sitting there.
My eyes linger on her for a second longer than they should.
Damn.
I had hoped it would be her...since walking into this room and finding her. I had hoped it would be her....my little Riot.
The woman beside her blinks several times looking surprised.
"No, Uncle."
I say nothing.
This isn’t my decision to announce.
Then the chair beside the table suddenly scrapes against the floor.
I look up.
The dark-haired woman is standing, hr palm slams against the table.
"What the fuck did you just say?"
The man turns toward her.
"Nerissa."
Ahhhhh Nerissa....So that’s her name.
My Riot has a name.
She points toward the woman sitting beside her.
"You’re marrying her off to a Sanchez?"
Her voice rises.
"One of the fucking Sanchez?"
"Nerissa."
"No!"
She moves around the table and stands directly in front of the other woman.
Protecting her with her little body
My eyes narrow slightly.
I remember tha, that stubbornness and the instinct to throw herself between someone else and danger.
She did the same thing the night we met.
"You can’t do this."
The man looks at her sternly.
"It’s already decided."
"Then un-decide it."
"Watch your tone."
"Fuck my tone."
Ahhh fuck this is turning me on.....Don’t blame me, I like my women with fire.
