Page 23 of Iron Bride

But was I ever truly meant to share my life? Or was I meant to simply tolerate her enough to whelp out some pups, then live separately? It was never clear.

Marriage, aye. Sure. But my father never said I had to handfast her. I never had to take the blood oath that she would be my one and only until the end of my days. It was a tacit expectation that I step outside the marriage. That both of us would, at some point.

But that seemed… unlikely now.

Unlikely. Impossible. Undesirable.

My mum sat at the head of the table with my father to her right. The two held hands, as always. I took the seat facing my father, to the left of my mum. Then grunted, standing back up, before pulling out the seat beside me for my wife.

“Sorry, Love,” I apologized as I pushed in the chair, planting a kiss on her temple.

“Sorry… for?” she asked, watching me take the seat beside her.

“For his poor manners in not seating you first, of course,” my father explained. “He was taught better than that.”

I smiled, as my father kissed the back of Mum’s hand. I did the same, kissing Gia’s before placing her palm on my thigh, my hand covering hers.

“Merry Christmas, Gia,” my mum said, looking over to my wife with a kind smile.

“Merry Christmas,” Gia mumbled. “Thank you for having me, Aunt Kira.”

The rest of the rascals came in. Riordan, Maeve, Quinn. They all sat down, slumping in the chairs. Riordan was in a suit, trying to look like a distinguished man. Quinn was in sweats. Maeve wore something in between. Casual, but not loungewear.

The joys of us all living in the same building meant that we all had slightly different impressions of what it was to dress up for each other’s homes.

When the elevator dinged for the final guests, I straightened.

Randa, wearing her work attire as always, led the way for Cosima Durante, the final matriarch of the Durante clan. Her bodyguard, Marco Rossini, close beside her.

I scrutinized him. Everything from his slicked black hair and thick lower lip. From the slight freckle beneath his left eye, to the way his hands splayed to his side.

I even watched as my sisters nudged each other, as they looked at him with flirtatious glints to their childish expressions.

Over my dead body.

Like a servant, he stood back when Cosima was seated, and stared aimlessly forward.

“Take a seat,” I called out to him, my eyes pointing down to the vacant chair by Cosima.

There was no Loretta, as my wife had thought. Which was curious, but not wholly unexpected.

He looked at me with a quizzical expression, then glanced at Gia.

He must have read something in her face, because he did sit down, and watched me like a hawk.

“A toast, I think,” I said, coming back to my feet. “To my bride.”

How little my darling trusted me. Then again, she had no reason to. After all, I was about to cause her great pain.

“To the miracle of matrimony.”

I held up the champagne glass, as Riordan stared at me like I was a dog that had learned to speak. My sisters, on the other hand, were just looking with amusement, wondering at what drama was about to unfold at the family dinner.

Randa, on the other hand, stepped forward from the wall she was holding up, to come behind Cosima and Marco.

“To a partnership,” I stared down at my lovely wife.

She looked so much like the Beauty that was sent to the Beast. Her chestnut hair parted down the center, curled to ringlets down her heart-shaped face.

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