It only takes him about thirty minutes to draw something up and he hands it to me in a manila folder. As I take it from him, I can’t help but marvel at the fact that I’m really doing this. After years of shirking my responsibilities and hiding from reality, I’m getting married. And it just so happens that the woman of my dreams is a Jordan. If she were known by any other name, she would still be mine, but fate has dealt us this seemingly impossible situation which we’re turning to our favor.
“I’m an ordained minister,” Mr. Abbott tells me. “I’ll be more than happy to help you tie the knot if you don’t already have arrangements.”
I nod. “I just might take you up on that.”
He shakes my hand firmly. “I really think this relationship could be a turning point for your family—and hers.”
I know he’s right, but even if our families won’t accept us, it doesn’t change anything. I’m going to make Daphne mine, no matter what.
♦ ♦ ♦
Later that morning, Damien and I find the rest of the Latsis boys, including Mac, lounging by Losev Turgenev’s rooftop pool. Losev made my cousins ditch all their weapons before we could come up. Seriously, you wouldn’t think the shipping business would need so much hardware.
Losev’s wife, Evangeline, is in the opposite corner wearing a giant hat that shades both her and her baby from prying eyes and the sun’s rays. Beside her, cooing over the baby, is Valya Strakova, Andrej’s girlfriend. We know better than to mess with either of them, so we keep our distance, drinking spiked seltzer and soaking up the rays on our side of the pool. Every now and then, we dive in to cool off or horse around. A morning like this is the perfect cure for a hangover. Little do they know, I’m drunk on love, not liquor.
It’s nearing noon when the glass door opens and a familiar woman in tight jean shorts and a crop top showing off a tanned, bare midriff emerges onto the pool deck. She has dark sunglasses covering half her face, and it’s not until she pushes them on top of her head that I recognize her as Daphne’s friend. I jump up and hurry to meet her as the guys start catcalling her. She doesn’t look intimidated by their attention; if anything, she looks pleased.
“Well?” she asks, propping a hand on one hip. “Daphne asked me to come see if you had anything for her.”
I hand her the manila envelope with the signed prenup inside. “How is she?”
She takes the envelope and cuts her wide, dark eyes at me. “Fine. Nervous.” Then, she adds begrudgingly, “Happier than I’ve ever seen her.”
“Really?” I ask, brightening.
Pointing a finger at me, she lowers her voice in what I guess is meant to be a threatening gesture. “If you hurt her, I’ll kill you. Daphne is a good, strong, responsible person. Don’t fuck it up.”
“I would never,” I promise.
Mac comes up then, glancing between us and thrusting a hand toward her. “Hi. I’m Mac.”
She looks at the hand, her lips pursed, then back up at him. “I know who you are.”
It takes more than that to ruffle Mac’s feathers. He tucks his hands in the pockets of his swimming shorts and leans back on his heels. “Going for a swim?”
“I don’t have my suit,” she says, lowering her glasses back onto her face.
“We won’t object.”
I don’t have to see her eyes to know she’s rolling them behind the dark lenses. She turns back to me, then, effectively dismissing my cousin.
“Here.” She hands me a folded slip of paper. I open it and see a phone number scrawled there. “Remember what I said,” she says, and then she spins on her heel and heads back the way she came.
Mac hollers something after her that I ignore, already planning my escape so I can talk to Daphne and we can plan our future together. But Mac won’t let it go easily. As soon as the door closes behind her, he starts his interrogation.
“Are you fucking around with Valentina Rodriguez?” he asks. “Kline will fucking murder you.” Her brother-in-law, Tobias Kline, is one of the Oakwood Boys.
“Doesn’t she run with the Jordans?” someone else asks.
Damien catches my eye before answering. “Yes, she does.”
After more speculation from the guys, Mac finally turns back to me. “So? What’s going on?”
I take a deep breath, the ache of my bruised ribs reminding me how dangerous this really is. But I’m tired of staying quiet, tired of going with the flow. If I’m going to do this, I need to do it right. “I’m getting married.”
No one says anything for a long moment. Then, Mac asks, “Are you and Rosie finally tying the knot?” He turns to one of his friends and slaps his shoulder. “I never saw that coming, did you?”
“Not Rosie,” I say loudly.
“Who then?”
I look at Damien, who’s no help. “If you don’t tell them, I will,” he says.
“Daphne Jordan.”
While the others are stunned into silence, Mac jumps to his feet, betrayal in every line of his body. “What the fuck, Theo?”
“I can’t explain it—”
“Damn right, you can’t.” He shoves me backward, close to the edge of the pool. “This is some bullshit.”
I plant my feet and scowl at him. “Why? Because of her last name?”
“Because of who her family is,” Mac argues.
“Her family? I don’t give a shit about her family. Daphne hasn’t done anything to me but make me happy.”
Mac gets in my face then. “If you don’t give a shit about her family, then you don’t give a shit about yours. Or did you forget about what happened to my mom?”
There it is. Mac’s trump card. My Aunt Andromeda died a few years ago in a car crash when she was accidentally caught in the crosshairs of a fight between her husband and some of the Jordan boys. It was devastating to our entire family, and the thing we’re all reminded of whenever one of us tries to show a little mercy or compassion. But what Mac doesn’t seem to accept is the fact that if there’d been no feud in the first place, none of it would have happened. If his dad hadn’t opened fire on the Jordans, there would have been nothing for her to be caught in the middle of.
“Of course, I didn’t forget. That’s exactly the kind of thing Daphne and I want to stop.”
But Mac is done listening. He lashes out at me. I take a step back and lose my footing. When I reach out for something to hold me up, I end up grabbing his wrist. The two of us topple sideways into the pool and surface sputtering and treading water.
Mac whirls on me, ready to continue the fight, when a shrill whistle slices through the air.
“Enough!”
We turn and see Evangeline Turgenev at the edge of the pool glaring down at us like she’s our mother. Behind her, Valya is still by their chairs holding the baby, but she’s standing like she’s ready to run.
“You will not do this bullshit here,” Evangeline says. “Get the fuck out.”
I flick my hair back and wipe off my face as Mac pulls himself out of the pool. “Mac, wait,” I call, following him.
He takes a towel from one of our friends and turns on me. “I have nothing else to say to you. Traitor.” With a quick nod of apology at Evangeline, he storms away.