Page 130 of Sinful Sacrifice

“That doesn’t matter.”

This time, it’s not me trying to pull away.

It’s him.

“What did you have to do for Cernach?” I cry out, my arms falling slack at my sides.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does. There’s always a price with him.”

“I told you before that I’ll pay any price for you.” He kisses my forehead again and walks away.

Leaving me alone on the balcony to feel the pain I caused us both.

Leaving me alone, staring at an altar, at what could’ve been our future.

There’s practically a syllabus for Riona’s wedding events.

Engagement announcement party. I missed that one, thank God.

Engagement party. Where I currently am. FML.

Bachelor and bachelorette parties. No, freaking thank you. If Cernach forces me, I’m faking my death.

Rehearsal dinner.

Wedding.

My aunt Fedelma, Cernach’s wife, is behind the packed schedule. That woman calls herself the Irish Martha Stewart. She likes to keep herself busy and away from her husband. Not that I can blame her.

Cernach insisted we attend tonight’s dinner. I’ve yet to mention Damien saying he got me out of the marriage agreement. If I do, Cernach will know we’ve been in contact.

The invitation said the social starts at seven and dinner begins at eight.

We’re here at 7:59. I’ll blame it on too much traffic during our drive from New York to Boston.

“I’m really sorry,” Lanie whispers as I hand The Ritz-Carlton valet my keys.

I offer her a timid smile. “It’s okay, I promise.”

Her shoulders slump.

I can’t blame my naive sister for believing she could trust Cernach. She didn’t hear the stories I did. She saw him open the studio and help our mom.

My mom lingers behind us. I hardly spoke to her on the drive here. I’d have preferred we rode separately, but she doesn’t have a car.

Sometimes, I war with myself on whether to hate or pity her.

Then, I think about how I’d act in the same situation. If a man treated my daughters how Cernach treats us, I’d either kill him or run. I wouldn’t care what it cost me. I’d put them above everything.

She had the guts to stick up for herself many years ago when it was her freedom on the line. Yet she won’t do it for us. I’ll never forgive her for that.

I hate that I search the ballroom for Damien as soon as we enter.

He’s not here yet.

I accept a champagne glass from a server and pretend to listen while my mom introduces me to family members I don’t care to meet. My attention stays on the entrance as I wait for him.

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