Page 29 of Malicious Wedding

“Only because your father vouched for him. We don’t just accept anyone and haven’t for a long time. We don’t need to recruit like that.”

“How’s that supposed to make me feel better?”

“You blame me, but Iain made his choice, and your father made it happen.”

“You were his friend. You could’ve stopped it.”

“Why would I do that? You think the Crowley organization is just a bunch of mindless thugs, but we’re more than that.”

She shakes her head and stands. “I don’t know what stories you’re telling yourself, but no matter how much power and influence you have, no matter how much money you make, you’re still a bunch of criminals. That’ll never change.”

I catch her wrist as she tries to walk past. “I don’t control what people do with their lives. Your brother made his own choices.”

“Yet here you are, trying to control me.” She stares straight ahead, jaw set. “This marriage thing is just another way of getting your hooks into my family.”

I hold on tighter. Does she really think this is about anything more than how badly I want her? Can she really believe anything matters to me as much as she does?

But she can’t see into my heart. She can’t feel what I’m feeling.

I release her. “Let’s go home.”

“Not my home.”

“Not yet.”

“Never will be.” She glances at me, her expression hard. “I don’t care what sort of dick voodoo you’ve got going on—”

“Dick voodoo?” My eyebrows raise.

“You know what I’m saying.” She cheeks turn pink with frustration. “Having a physical connection is never going to be enough. Do you hear me, Carson? It doesn’t matter if you’re right. It’s not enough.”

She walks out of the room, leaving me behind.

My hands curl into fists.

A physical connection.

That girl has no clue what she just unleashed inside of me.

Chapter14

Ash

The Crowley mansion is magnificent.

Massive. Opulent. My brain fails to comprehend the scale. The landscaping is pristine, each bush perfectly manicured, each flower trimmed, and not a weed in sight. The grass looks like a football field. White columns line the front like the Parthenon. The front doors are massive, imposing.

Carson takes me in through the side. “How many people live here?” I ask, staring around at the art lining the walls. Staff passes us by, nodding respectfully as they hurry on to whatever pressing task makes them scamper around. Sound gets sucked into the heavy drapes, the thick carpets, the lush decor.

“Hard to say,” Carson admits. “Mom and Dad most of the time. My brothers and I come and go as needed though we all have our own places in the city. Some of the staff are here full-time. There are aunts, uncles, cousins. Members of the organization stay here occasionally, along with visiting diplomats and other rival family heads.”

“It’s like a hotel.”

“More like a circus.” I take her through back halls, avoiding the main section of the house where we might run into Dad. “Growing up here was interesting.”

“I can’t even imagine. We just passed, like… two dozen rooms already.”

“And I’ve explored every one. My brothers and I loved this house when we were kids. It was like our own little Narnia, at least until we got older and Dad cracked down on the childish games. Things changed when we became teenagers, but up until then…” He trails off, looking into the distance with a faraway stare.

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