Page 60 of The Irish Arrangement

Enough time for now.

I wasn’t sure anymore if one lifetime would be enough for how much I wanted her.

22

CARA

While choosing a dress with Declan’s help was… fun, wearing it to this gala was not.

It wouldn’t have mattered what I wore. The discomfort that claimed me once I set foot in this posh, humongous ballroom would follow me regardless of any wardrobe change I could have attempted.

I don’t belong here.

Among the rich and famous. Next to the influential, pompous people gathered here like stars and leaders.

Or thugs. Now that I’d married a Mob man, I felt confident that I knew the type. It was all in the eyes, that brooding, dark stare that promised pain and death.

Women cast me glances, their disgust evident in their amused smirks. Hair done up, dresses hugging their slender bodies, and so much makeup that I felt too plain. These women were not like me. I would never have the willpower or energy to doll myself up and inject chemicals under my skin to look that fake, that plastic—and I swore for some of them, drugged up and too high, unable to socialize without help.

Tuxedoed men milled around the lavish space. Their bling glittered under so many chandeliers. All their hands bore gems and jewels, expensive watches and hard-earned scars.

These people were strangers, set aside by wealth and purpose as the denizens of the criminal world.

And next to Declan, I wished I could hide further.

He kept me next to him. His hand had yet to leave me. If he wasn’t holding my hand, he was touching the small of my back. Then when he wasn’t hugging me, commanding my attention on him as he stole a kiss, he was standing behind me with his arm possessively over my stomach as he pulled me back to him.

I wouldn’t complain.

His hard, hot body was familiar. It reminded me of the security he gave me when he took control. In and out of the bed. With him glued to my side, I relied on his comfort and ease of mingling in this crowd that I was certain I’d never feel a part of.

Down to my bones, I was nothing but a farm girl. A hardworking, middle-class plebeian. Expected to show up here, I was cast so far out of my element that I wished I could try my hand at seducing my husband to lure him out of here.

“You rub that ass against me one more time…” he growled into my ear, leaning over me as he stood braced behind me.

I couldn’t help the shiver his threatening, husky tone incited.

He groaned, kissing along my jawline as he inched his hand over my dress.

Goddamn, was he handsy. And possessive. I wouldn’t have been shocked if he was acting like this, doting and attentive, because he saw how uncomfortable and out of my element I was.

Or maybe he was marking his territory, letting everyone see that he’d truly married me and had taken me as his.

No one had come to our wedding. An average-sized crowd had attended the reception. Here, we seemed to be broadcasting our married status to the whole world.

And among the many fancy, cold people drinking and dancing in the ballroom, I spotted them. My so-called family who’d wanted me so little that they conspired to force me to marry Declan.

Shane and Keira stood together, seeming to be a couple in love. From a distance, I could tell that they were faking it, acting at ease while their smiles didn’t meet their eyes. While their gazes wandered.

“I should just fuck you right now,” Declan rasped in my ear.

Are you faking it too? I’d never been in public like this to know if this was how he always acted with a woman. I enjoyed his gruff possession, but he seemed to be laying it on thickly.

Is it an act for you?

I sighed, hating that I could still be so jaded, so quick to assume that he could mean it that he wanted me to feel secure and desired, even in public. The only time I’d had to get to know him were in private moments, so far, usually as we fucked.

This felt like a trial.

---