“Connor will be in touch with the details,” he says flatly. “I suggest you start preparing yourself. This is happening whether you like it or not.”
“Get out,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Gladly.” His smile is cold. “Being in the same room as you makes my skin crawl.”
“Then fuck off back to whatever hole you crawled out of, Brennan,” I respond, enjoying his sudden flush of anger. “And tell Connor that if he wants an answer from me, he can ask me himself instead of sending his lapdog.”
Cillian’s jaw tightens, but he unfortunately doesn’t take the bait. He turns and walks away, not even stopping to say goodbye to Leo and Emma.
My brother is looking at me now.
He says something to Emma and starts to move toward me, but I shake my head.
I don’t want to talk to him right now.
Instead, I force a smile that I know doesn’t reach my eyes.
Not now.
Not here.
Not on his wedding day.
I mouth, “Tomorrow.”
Leo clearly doesn’t like it—the frustration and concern is written all over his face.
But Emma tugs on his hand, pulling his attention back to her, and after a moment he nods reluctantly.
Tomorrow.
I’ll tell him tomorrow after he and Emma have had this one perfect day without me ruining it with the news that I’m being bartered off to keep the peace.
History’s repeating itself in the worst possible way.
Because Cillian is right.
I’ll do it to keep the peace.
To make sure Leo and Emma survive to raise their daughter.
I’ll become Mrs. Cillian Brennan.
And there’s not a damn thing either of us can do to stop it.
I look down at the marriage proposal still clutched in my hand that might as well be a death sentence.
The music plays.
People laugh and I stand in the corner, holding the proposal that will chain me to a man I despise.
I feel the trap closing around me.
But I don’t cry, even though I can feel my eyes burning.
I won’t let anyone see how completely fucked I am.
I’m Valentina Santoro, and if I’m going down, I’m going down fighting.