Page 5 of Deadly Obsession

“Yes,” Viv replied. “For wedding planning.”

Evie turned to Aidan. “Nine o’clock. Please don’t be late.”

Aidan seethed as she turned and walked away. If it wasn’t bad enough that he was expected to go through with the wedding, now they wanted him to help plan the fucking thing too? What the hell did he care what flowers they chose or what music they danced to? All of it was a sham.

“Not much experience planning weddings, I take it.”

When Aidan turned back to Viv, she was studying him carefully. “No desire to.”

She gave a quick nod. “I can’t say I’ve ever been one to dream of getting married myself. But we’re in this together, so I guess we’ll figure it out.”

As quickly as the sentiment bloomed, he squashed it. They were not in this together. They would not be friends. To let her think otherwise was dangerous, if not cruel. She might be beautiful and captivating and intelligent, but he had one duty here.

“But we aren’t, are we?” He kept his voice measured, cold. “This marriage has one purpose. Once it's fulfilled, we won’t need to be anything else to each other.”

He watched her closely. Noted the subtle straightening of her spine, the imperceptible lift in her chin, the way the light faded from her eyes and left them hard and unblinking. It was like watching all semblance of hope that this would be anything other than a business transaction leech out slowly, replaced by steeled indifference.

When she brushed past him without a word, he turned to watch her go, ignoring the tightening in his chest as she slipped through the door. It would be better for them both this way. She clearly wanted affection, a connection he simply wasn’t capable of. She deserved to know what she was getting into. Now she did.

ChapterThree

Viv let herself into the bakery the following morning. It was still dark yet, but she’d timed her arrival to after the early morning rush and before the late morning baking started. This way, most of the activity was over near the sinks and not in the main prep area.

She glanced around for her sister, hoping Sofia was busy with the line she’d seen snaking around the front of the building and wouldn’t be in the back to play twenty questions. Viv tied her hair back in a low bun and bent to retrieve the ingredients she needed off the bottom shelf.

Her great-grandfather had opened Romano’s Bakery in the fifties as an insurance policy for his family during the post-war boom while the Mafia underwent yet another fracturing reconstruction. He hadn’t trusted the stability of the Mafia’s top leadership as they fought among themselves for power.

He’d grown it carefully, going to great lengths to keep it as far away from Mafia influence as possible, and passed it down to his son, who’d passed it down to his daughter, Viv’s mother. It had certainly seen them through rough periods in Mafia history in the decades since. Only now she knew her parents worried it might be a liability, something someone could exploit or target to punish her father.

She hoped they didn’t sell it. She’d grown up here, standing on a stool next to the counter while her mother and grandmother taught her every recipe they knew. She could make most of their family recipes from memory and loved developing new ones to see what would do well and what needed tweaking.

If they did decide to sell, maybe she could buy them out. Assuming being a Callahan bride gave her some kind of access to Callahan wealth. The alliance itself might dissuade people from taking such a direct public shot at them. Callahan retribution was always swift and merciless.

But she had no reason to expect anything from them, least of all to save a family-owned business that paled in comparison to their empire. The bakery was a drop in the bucket to what they controlled, and any hope that she might have been able to come to a mutual understanding, if not a partnership, with her future husband had been ruthlessly stamped out at dinner last night.

Temper flaring, she reached onto a high shelf for a stainless steel bowl and began measuring ingredients into it. She knew Aidan Callahan by reputation only. He’d fucked more than one of her friends, and the story was always the same. He was the best sex they’d ever had, but always gone by morning. Whether he was or they were, no one ever spent the night with him.

Not that she was a prude. She'd enjoyed a nice sweaty fuck with a guy whose name she didn’t care to remember more than once. Aidan was exactly the kind of man she might like to have that nice, sweaty…she shook her head. This wasn’t a one-night stand. It was altogether different. Unavoidable. Forever.

It had been too much to hope that he would be interested in at least meeting her halfway. She knew what was expected of her and that she had no choice. Her father might have phrased the option to marry Aidan Callahan as a question, but it hadn’t been one. She imagined the same was likely true for him.

She wasn’t harboring any delusions that they’d fall in love at first sight or even that they might fall in love over time. She wasn’t a child, and this wasn’t a fairy tale. What she did hope for was mutual respect. Something he clearly wasn’t capable of.

That was fine. Once he’d fulfilled hispurpose,she could busy herself with motherhood while he busied himself with whoever was willing to lie underneath him.

“What are you doing here?”

Viv winced as she finished mixing the ingredients and dumped the dough onto a baking tray to shape. Busted.

“I’m baking something.”

“I can see that.” Sofia came closer and pushed onto her tiptoes to peer over her sister’s shoulder. Even with Viv in flat shoes, Sofia was several inches shorter than Viv’s five-nine. “Can’t you make biscotti at home?”

“I could.” Viv turned and slid the baking tray into the oven. “But then I’d be trying to avoid having the same conversation with Mama. With less success.”

“What conversation is that?”

Viv cocked a brow as she set the timer. “Well, if you’re not going to bring it up, I’m definitely not going to bring it up.”

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