Page 23 of Forbidden Vows

It’s a good thing they’re not aware of the massive sigh of relief that just unraveled deep inside of me. I’ll let it out once they all leave the room. I have to keep it cool for now; truth be told, four dissenters will turn to more later down the line, and Andrei and I both know it.

“Shall we get back to business then?” Andrei asks.

Sergei is anything but happy. He doesn’t seem too bummed out either. I can tell from the look on his face. I bet he’s doing the math in his head, thinking the same as me. Four could easily become six by the next council meeting. Then six could become eight and so on. If I lose my seat, Sergei will find an opening to do more damage to my family without a single care concerning our bond with the Donovans.

I guess I’ll just have to make sure I keep my seat.

Chapter 7

Eileen

“This is insane,” I tell my father as we wait outside the chapel for the bride to arrive. “The fact that you keep entertaining each of Ciara’s whims does not bode well for you, Dad.”

“Eileen, she wanted to get married quickly, and Anton agreed,” Dad says.

He’s paler than usual, dark circles blooming under his eyes. It’s been two months since the engagement party, two months since I learned that my stepsister’s husband-to-be is the father of the baby growing inside me, two months since I’ve been carrying this secret with an aching heart and a heavy soul.

It’s supposed to be a joyous occasion, right?

Wrong.

It’s been hell.

“Still, a wedding of this magnitude on such short notice,” I sigh deeply. “It’s not like Anton was going to change his mind.”

Though secretly I wish he had.

“Ciara was adamant that we do this sooner rather than later,” my father says, his gaze wandering over to the town car. “I think it was because she didn’t want you to have to wait as long to marry Sergei.”

Yeah, right.

“How magnanimous of her,” I mutter.

“Eileen, this animosity between you and Ciara has to stop,” he says, then winces. “We need to come across as a strong and tight-knit front for these Russian pricks.”

“Dad, what’s wrong with you?” I ask.

“Nothing.”

“Dad.”

“Nothing, Eileen. I’m just tired and stressed out of my mind. I’m giving away two daughters this year. I’d hoped I would have a little more time with you before you leave with Sergei. Honey, I love you more than life itself. It just hurts to let you go.”

The words sound nice enough in my head.

“Here comes the bride,” Dad says as Ciara steps out of a white limo.

Her bridal gown is ridiculously dramatic. She looks like a haute couture model about to make waves at the Met Gala. It’s not a dress; it’s a sculpture made of white satin and too many layers of tulle and pearls.

She’s beautiful. Her makeup is perfect. Her hair is dyed a cool platinum blonde and woven into an intricate bun, on top of which sits an elegant gold, diamond, and pearl tiara. The veil flows gently over her bare shoulders, diamonds dancing in herears and around her delicate neck.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous,” I tell Ciara with a warm smile. A bitter taste lingers on the back of my tongue. I’ve been throwing up all morning.

“Thank you, Eileen,” Ciara replies, measuring me from head to toe. “I wish I’d gone with the green bridesmaid dress, though. That salmon pink doesn’t do your complexion any good.”

“Eileen looks wonderful,” my father tells her, then lovingly squeezes my shoulder. “Like a proper Irish girl, this one.”

“Ready for your big day?” I ask through gritted teeth.

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