Page 56 of Gilded Cage (Kovalyov Bratva 1)

“She’s just a girl. Same as any other.”

“You can lie with the best of them, my man,” Cillian says. “But not to me. We’ve known each other for too long. You and I both know there’s something there.”

If you only fucking knew.

“Fucking hell,” I groan. “What the fuck is up with you today? You wanna talk wedding plans or something? You wanna help me pick out china patterns or floral displays? Is that it?”

Cillian just smiles in his easygoing way, completely at ease.

“Nah, that shit doesn’t do it for me,” he says. “But I do want to talk about the bachelor party.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course you do.”

“But, typically, that comes after choosing the best man.”

I look at his serious expression with wide eyes and then burst out laughing.

“You are a fucking cupcake,” I wheeze.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing,” Cillian scowls. “This is a very serious issue.”

I shake my head as my laughter subsides.

“Like I said, this is not a real fucking marriage. It’s a business arrangement. She may be my wife soon, but my cock is still destined for every other woman in L.A.”

Cillian cocks one eyebrow and looks at me pointedly.

I know damn well what he’s thinking.

In the last several months, I hadn’t exactly been sticking my cock anywhere.

Well, except for Esme.

But he doesn’t need to know that.

“What?” I challenge.

He holds up his hands in surrender. “Easy, tiger,” he replies. “I dunno. Maybe this could be something.”

“Are you fucking on something? It’s a little early to start boozing, Cillian.”

He raises a hand like he’s swearing an oath. “Sober as the day I was born, chief. Scout’s honor. I’m just saying, she’s the daughter of a mafia boss and you’re the son of a mafia boss. She understands the life better than most. Remember how hard it was for Marisha?”

I squeeze the armrests hard until my knuckles go white.

Her name sends a ripple of pain shooting through me.

Cillian is the only one who’s allowed to talk to me about Marisha—mostly because he was the only one with me in the days following her death.

He saw my rage, my pain, my sadness. He suffered when I had so much fury I lashed out.

And he stayed through it. He was loyal.Isloyal. I owe him my loyalty in return.

That doesn’t mean I like hearing it, though.

“I remember,” I nod with gritted teeth.

“She was strong,” Cillian continues. “But it takes a different kind of strength to live this life. To be a don’s daughter. To be a don’s wife.”

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