Page 14 of Finn

“It’s not unusual in our life, Mama,” I say, cutting her off.

“No, it isn’t, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have a happy marriage. It may not be starting off exactly how you envisioned, but as far as I can tell, there’s no reason to believe Finn won’t make a good husband.”

It takes a monumental effort not to snort the sparkling wine through my nose. I can think of several reasons, the first being his reputation as a complete and unapologetic player. That doesn’t sound like good husband material to me.

“I’m sure everything will be fine. It’s not like he’s going into this with expectations of a doting wife being at his beck and call.” I made sure that was not the impression I made at dinner.

“Oh, I do hope you can find a way to hold your tongue, Alessia. If he thinks it’s going to be a fight every time he walks through the door, there isn’t anything stopping him from not coming home at all.”

“One could hope,” I mutter under my breath before taking another sip from my glass.

Though my mother doesn’t catch my remark, Gemma does and almost chokes on the wine that’s halfway down her throat.

My mother looks concerned while Gemma gets herself under control, and I watch her with an amused smirk.

“Sorry, wrong pipe,” she says, taking a drink of the water in front of her. Her hand lifts to get the waiter’s attention. “We should order. Mrs. Amatto, what are you having?”

I barely hold back my laughter as she quickly changes the subject.

“Are you meeting his family before the wedding?” Gemma asks after we order.

“We’ll be having dinner with them tomorrow night, in fact,” I reply, nodding to my mother.

“Well, that will be nice,” she offers, but I look anything but excited.

Being in Finn’s company is disorienting. Hearing him moan when he tasted his food at dinner and the way he looked at me with a dare in his gaze before I agreed to sign the marriage contract stirred something in me. I detest men who have reputations like his, but there was something about the way he carried himself the other night that sparked some sort of challenge between us that I can’t resist rising to. I’m used to men tiptoeing around me because of who my father is. Finn looked at me like he wanted to sink his teeth into me, and he was going to have a grand time doing it.

I lift my hand to signal to the waiter that we’re ready for another bottle.

Finn Monaghan can keep that damn eye twinkle and his teeth to himself.

I’m surprised the former head of the Monaghan family doesn’t live in a palatial estate like the one I grew up in. Don’t get me wrong, his house is huge and behind a gate with an armed guard. But it’s obvious when we pull up the driveway that Cormac and Maeve Monaghan have a house that’s more of a home rather than the giant estate I grew up on. My father built an empire, and he wanted anyone who visited his home to see that. The Monaghans don’t flaunt their wealth like my father does, even though I’m sure they’re just as wealthy as my family.

Instead of a guard waiting on the front porch like at my house, we’re greeted with the sight of an older couple, the woman with short blonde hair wearing a joyful smile on her face as we approach.

“Alessia, it’s so good to meet you,” she says, enveloping me in a hug.

When she pulls away, I give her a smile in return. “Nice to meet you as well, Mrs. Monaghan.”

“Please call me Maeve. We don’t stand on formalities.”

Cormac forgoes the hug and holds out his hand instead. “Cormac Monaghan. Nice to meet you.”

It’s like looking at an older version of Finn with the same tall frame and commanding presence. Cormac has similar blue eyes, but Finn must get the stormy blue hue of his from his mom.

The couple introduces themselves to my parents as I wonder where the hell my future husband is.

“Come in, come in,” Maeve tells my parents and me, opening the door to their home.

When we step inside, I see my earlier observations about their house are spot on. This house looks lived in and comfortable. Pictures of the family, some looking like they date back to the time when their relatives still lived in Ireland, cover every light-gray-painted wall. There’s no rhyme or reason to the placement, just row after row of photographs of several generations of Monaghans.

“The boys are in the family room,” Maeve says and waves for us to follow.

Yelling can be heard from where we stand. If I knew the woman better, I’d swear Maeve is not happy with the commotion by the way her shoulders seem to stiffen, even though she keeps a pleasant smile on her face. Entering the family room, I see my future husband. There’s a man who is the spitting image of Maeve sitting beside him on a large couch that looks more comfortable than any piece of furniture we have in our house, and they’re…playing a video game.

“You motherfucker,” the blond man next to Finn complains. “That’s cheating and you damn well know it.”

Maeve doesn’t waste a second and walks right behind the man and smacks him upside the head.

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