Page 74 of Dublin Devil

“I’m not marrying you,” I repeat.

“So you say.”

Arkady returns with an unopened bottle of Russian vodka and hands it to his boss. Then he hangs a dress bag on a hook on the closet door.

He can’t seriously have a wedding dress in there, can he? Even as my brain stumbles to make sense of any of this, I know he does.

He’s just that crazy.

Vladmir breaks the seal of the vodka and holds up the bottle. “To Vladmir and Piper.” He knocks back a couple of long swallows of vodka and then puts the bottle in my mouth and tips it back.

I choke, swallowing and sputtering as the alcohol burns its way down my throat.

“Good girl. Tonight we transform you into magnificent Russian princess.”

He takes another swig of vodka and then strides over to the closet. After unzipping the garment bag, he pulls a god-awful mass of white lace free of its confines. “So beautiful. My mother sent dress from Russia. It belonged to first wife.”

I blink. “How many wives have you had?”

“Four. You will be youngest and most beautiful. Special in your own way.”

Is he implying that he’s gone through multiple wives, or that he has a harem stashed away back in Russia? I’m not sure, but I have no intention of finding out.

Somehow, I have to get out of here.

Somehow, I need to get back to Sean.

“Rest now, firesnapper.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s firecracker, not firesnapper.”

He grins. “See? Already we make good for one another.”

Vladmir leaves the room and after the door closes, a dead bolt slides into place.

I want to scream but need a plan of escape more.

I pull at the restraints binding my hands. There’s no give to them and without something sharp, I’ll never break their hold.

I won’t be getting out of here until I’m let out.

And that will be when either Arkady or Vladmir comes to get me for the wedding. I clamp my eyes shut as hot tears escape.

I can’t marry into the Bratva—I won’t.

My heart belongs to another crime family. I would gladly give up my McGuire name to be a Quinn.

Mrs. Sean Quinn.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Sean

It’s four in the afternoon, and I’m losing patience with the fucking world. Tag has had us patrolling up and down the river, watching the warehouses all day, and not one damned thing has happened.

Whether Mattie took a day off to honor his family—which I highly doubt—or he’s fucking with us, today was nothing but wasted hours and wasted gas.

“Am I keeping you from something, brother?” I glance to the head of the meeting table and meet Tag’s scrutinizing gaze. “You’ve checked your phone ten times in the last ten minutes. Is there something I should know about?”

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