Page 35 of Forced Vows

It doesn't.

"Miceli has no authority over me or in this house. Ollie is my bodyguard."

"Text Mr. De Luca and he'll tell you," the woman suggests.

Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. I don't have Miceli's number. And doesn't that just say it all?

"You're not that bright, are you? I just told you that Miceli De Luca is not my boss. That means I don't care if he sent you, or not."

I'm sure he did, the arrogant jerk. These two never would have gotten past the gate guards and into the house otherwise. At least not without bloodshed.

Since no alarms have gone off and Ollie looks angry, not worried, I'm going with these mafia soldiers are here with my uncle's permission.

"How about this?" I speak slowly for the made men, whatever their gender, in the room. "You text him and tell him that I don't need you."

The woman crosses her arms. "We have our orders."

The man pulls out his phone and taps on the screen. Sending a text, but I doubt it's to inform his boss that I don't need the new bodyguards.

This is because of Portland.

The hypocrite. It was fine for him to be out trolling for a sex partner without security, but not the woman he now plans to marry.

Someday. In the very distant future.

A girl can hope.

Ollie's phone pings and premonition makes my stomach queasy. Or is that lack of breakfast? It's a good thing Ollie keeps meal bars in the glove box for me.

"Fecking hell," my bodyguard mutters as he reads the text. Then he looks up at me. "The boss says these two puffed up Jackeens are now on your security detail too."

"No." My denial is visceral and heartfelt. "I'm not trusting my life to Cosa Nostra gangsters."

Foxes and henhouses come to mind, the words spoken in moma's soft Irish burr.

"The Cosa Nostra is the strongest syndicate around."

This woman is really getting on my nerves.

I smile sweetly at her, if sweet comes with a side of shark's teeth. "Tell that to the network of Irish mob families with control of territories the Cosa Nostra can't touch."

Yes, the Cosa Nostra is one of the strongest criminal organizations operating, but there's a reason the powerful and ruthless don of the Genovese wants an alliance with my uncle.

Through our ties in Ireland and here in the U.S., the Shaughnessy mob has alliances and/or influence with most of the Irish crime families in the world.

I used to think that made us special. Because it made my dad proud. Now, I think it makes us at the top of the rotting heap of organized crime.

If I'd been born into a normal family, I wouldn't be forced to sign my life away at the age of twenty for the sake of alliances and more power. If my dad were still alive, he wouldn't have allowed it to happen either.

But Uncle Brogan is different. There's family love there, but the mob comes first. For my dad, me and my mom came first.

"Rosy, what are those people doing here?" Fiona's voice wavers with stress.

I look past the two would-be bodyguards and force a genuine smile. "Nothing to worry about, Fi. They work for Miceli De Luca."

Fiona's gaze doesn't meet mine. It's stuck on the Cosa Nostra soldiers. "Why are they here?"

The woman steps toward Fiona, smiling. "You must be Fiona. I saw your picture. I'm Zoey." She indicates the man who is at least ten years older than us both. "This is Allessio. We're your cousin's new security team."

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