Marriage of Sin: An Arranged Marriage Mafia Romance by Hamel B. B

Author:Hamel, B. B.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-06-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 26

Finn

I order a car that night to take us out to the Crowley family mansion.

Dara’s quiet beside me, wearing a new cream blouse and a pair of dark slacks. She looks gorgeous with her hair down, her lips pink and her eyes bright, staring out at the night as we wind our way from the city toward the affluent suburbs.

Without thinking, I put my hand on her thigh, which makes her flinch.

But she doesn’t knock it away.

“I need you to know something,” I say, looking at her, holding her gaze. I hit the button to raise the privacy screen, blocking out the driver. “No matter what happens, I’m on your side. Do you understand?”

“How bad is this going to be?” She tilts toward me, eyes wide.

A fair question. I tighten my grip, digging my fingers into her slightly, before shaking my head. “I don’t know,” I admit. “But it won’t be good.”

“Your father—your family—you’re all, uh, you know, criminals, right?” She hesitates, picking her words carefully. “Does that mean violence is a possibility?”

I smile tightly. “If I were anyone else in the organization, then yes, my father wouldn’t hesitate to kill me. Disobedience and betrayal are the two greatest crimes we can commit.”

She pales. “But since you’re his son, you’re safe?”

“Mostly.” I don’t mention that there are things he could do which are worse than killing me. “You don’t have to stress. I promise, no matter what, I’m going to take care of you. We’re married, and I don’t plan on going back on that commitment. Besides, I have contingency plans.”

Dozens of them. From running to Mexico to bribing him with work.

But she doesn’t seem reassured. “Even if he threatens to kill you? Or me?”

My eyes narrow. “He won’t, and if he does, I’ll make sure he never follows through.”

She doesn’t look convinced, not that I can blame her, but she doesn’t press the issue. We finish the car ride in silence, switching from busy city streets to winding rural ones flanked by massive trees as the twilight turns to early evening and the sun sinks down beneath the horizon.

The car pulls down a short path before stopping at a gate. We’re buzzed through, and Dara leans forward as the house comes into sight.

I’m used to this by now, but it’s interesting to watch Dara experience the Crowley mansion for the first time.

It’s an enormous Victorian structure with a fully stone facade and a gray slate roof. Multiple peaks, chimneys, dozens of windows, and more than one door stretch out across the front wall, with more disappearing around the side toward the back. The grass is manicured, the bushes trimmed to tiny little perfect globes, and the trees are pointed like picture-book drawings.

“Did you grow up here?” she asks, blinking rapidly.

“I did,” I confirm, smiling to myself, though I don’t have too many good memories from my childhood. “The house felt like it went on forever. I explored the grounds with my brothers, ran through streams, climbed trees. Except my room was always freezing in the winter and stifling in the summer.

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