REAPER (Boston Underworld Book 2) (27 page)

Chapter Forty-Seven

Sasha

W
hen I said that I wanted Ronan to stay home with me, I didn’t really think he’d be able to. But he’s been here for four days, and he’s now officially driving me nuts.

Apparently he took everything that was mentioned at the doctor’s appointment as potential red flags. He’s been watching my every movement. Helping me downstairs. Refusing to let me cook. Telling Daisy she’s not allowed to sit near my belly anymore. I drew the line when he tried to install safety grab bars all over the bathroom, citing the potential slip risks.

“Ronan.”

“Aye?” he glances away from his book, his eyes scanning over me like something might be wrong.

“Don’t you have to go back to work?”

He blinks at me. And then frowns. “Do ye not want me here with you?”

“Of course I do,” I answer him. “But I also want things to be normal. I’d rather you got into the routine of running the club now so when I really need you later on, you can be here.”

“I have it all sorted,” he says. “I can be here now.”

“Okay, but…” I blow out a breath. “You need to chill a little, alright?”

“I don’t understand,” he answers.

And I know he really doesn’t.

“I’m okay. The baby’s okay. I know I had a little freak out at the doctor’s office. But I’m good now. I don’t want you to be so worried about everything, alright? It makes me anxious when you do that.”

“But I love you,” is his reply.

And I smile, because… well, Ronan.

I crawl across the sofa and sit down in his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him.

“I love you too, Ronan,” I murmur against him. “You’re lucky you’re adorable. Because sometimes you drive me crazy.”

“Now ye understand how I feel,” he says, cupping my ass in his hands. “I worry about ye all the bleeding time, Sasha. All the time. I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“That’s love,” I answer. “Wait until you meet our baby. It’s only going to get worse.”

He kisses me deep and hard and starts pawing at my body beneath my clothes. And then he’s carrying me down the hall to the bedroom, discarding them along the way. While it took me months to get him naked the first time, now he doesn’t want it any other way. He likes to feel his skin against mine. And I do too.

He makes love to me. It’s still feverish, but gentle too. Even after all this time, it still feels like the first time. He comes inside of me and stays there, kissing all over my face.

“This time next week,” he says. “Ye’re finally going to be my wife.”

***

During the week before our wedding, I spend a lot of time picking out things for the nursery. Ronan goes along wherever I do and never complains. He even puts everything together too.

It shouldn’t surprise me, but he’s very handy at that type of stuff as well. He always reads the instructions three times over before he begins, but once he’s done that he whips all the pieces into shape in no time at all.

I like to watch him do these things. Such simple things. But it’s part of building a life together. Piece by piece.

When I think about marrying him in only five short days, it still feels like a dream. Our life is nowhere near perfect. I’m marrying into the mafia. This world can be dark and chaotic and full of the unknown. But the one thing I know for certain is that with Ronan at my side, we can navigate it together.

I don’t want our pasts to dictate our future. I want to wash away the bad and replace it with good. Which is why I’ve been working on something for him, whenever I can find the time. Ronan’s life has been filled with evil and torment and pain. He has a dark side, but there’s so much good in him too.

I want to remind him of that. I want him to know that he isn’t only what his childhood created him to be. So I’ve drawn something for him. A man with angel’s wings. Wings that I hope will spread the length of his back and cover his old tattoos. The codes that were engraved on him when he had no choice in the matter.

It came to me in a dream one night while I lay at his side. And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. But now that I’ve finished, and I’m getting ready to unveil it, I feel sick.

I don’t know if he’s going to like it. I don’t know if he’d even be open to getting another tattoo. And I certainly don’t want him to think that I want to change him. Or that I don’t accept him for who he is. That isn’t the case at all.

All of these thoughts are going through my mind when he looks up at me from his place on the couch. He’s reading, and I’m watching TV. Which I insisted we buy. Ronan didn’t deny me. And more and more, I catch him watching the true crime shows with me. I think they fascinate him.

But right now, he’s looking at me. Like he knows something is up. Which is weird because I used to think he wasn’t perceptive at all. But really, Ronan is more perceptive than anybody would ever know. He just doesn’t let onto it.

“All good?” His eyes skim over my belly. “Are ye not feeling well?”

“I’m okay,” I tell him. “Just nervous.”

He closes the book in his hands and gives me his full attention.

“How can I make it better?” he asks, with such sincerity in his eyes I can’t help but smile at this handsome man. My soon to be husband. My rock, and my life.

“I love you,” I blurt. “You know that, right?”

“Aye,” he answers. “I do.”

“And I don’t want you to change. Ever. Unless you want to, I mean. I just…”

My words fall away and I get that panicky feeling in my chest again. Ronan reaches out and pulls me closer, his eyes meeting mine.

“Tell me anything, Sasha,” he says. “Ye have no need to be worried.”

“I made you something,” I admit. “But I’m not sure you’re going to like it.”

His thumb skates over the back of my hand, and just that small gesture has a way of anchoring me to him and keeping the panic at bay.

“Show me,” he insists.

I get up and walk to the cabinet, pulling out the file folder that has the drawing inside. I’m chewing on my lip as I thrust it into his hands.

“It’s just an idea,” I tell him. “You don’t have to do it. But I thought if you wanted to cover up your tattoos…”

Ronan opens the file and stares down at the drawing. For a really long time. The room is entirely too quiet. And I’m sure he’s going to hate it.

“This was really stupid.” I try to take the folder back, but he keeps hold of it, his eyes taking in every detail the way they always do.

“I like it,” he says.

That’s it. Simple and to the point. And just so Ronan. But I need more.

“You do? Really?”

“Aye,” he answers gruffly. “You drew it for me. So I like it. I fancy all of your drawings. But this one is mine.”

A blush creeps over my cheeks and I wring my hands together. I sometimes forget that Ronan was watching me when I didn’t know it. That he’s probably seen a lot of things I wouldn’t normally have shown anyone. Like my drawings. My journal. My underwear.

“I’ll get it done tomorrow,” he says, interrupting my thoughts.

“Tomorrow?” I question. “But you’ll need to make an appointment. Find the right artist…”

“The syndicate has a lad who does them,” he says. “I’ll have him come tomorrow.”

“Oh.”

“It’s settled then.” He reaches for my hand and pulls me into his lap.

He kisses my face and nuzzles into my neck. His words are quiet and soft and betraying a rare emotion when he whispers into my ear.

“Thank you, love.”

Chapter Forty-Eight

Sasha

“
I
’m as big as a frigging house,” Mack whines as she stares at herself in the mirror. “Are you sure you want me to walk with you out there? Nobody will be looking at you when you have me thundering down the aisle beside you.”

I laugh at her, and it turns out to be just what I need at the moment. I’m a nervous wreck.

“Mack, you look beautiful,” I assure her. “And I’ve got nobody else to walk out there with me. I really need you.”

“Oh fine.” She pouts. “You’re gonna play that card, huh?”

“I am.”

She turns to me and starts fussing over my dress. A white floor length, empire waist ensemble with a touch of gold trim. It’s not what I imagined myself getting married in. But when I was looking at dresses, Ronan admitted his favorite color on me was white.

He likes to think of me as pure and good. The light to his darkness. I’m definitely no angel, but he’s not the devil he thinks he is either. So for him, I wear white.

I hadn’t planned on doing anything in the traditional way. I mean, I’m getting married in a strip club. Run by the mafia. There’s pretty much nothing traditional about that. But it turns out, Ronan’s very traditional in some aspects.

He wanted to see me walk down the aisle. He wanted to show the world that I’m his. I couldn’t deny him.

So even though I’m a bit panicky at the prospect of having everyone’s eyes on me, I know it will all go away the moment I see his. Standing there, waiting for me.

The music starts, and I grab Mack’s arms in a vice grip.

“It’s okay, Sash,” she says. “Just breathe.”

I do. I take a deep breath and close my eyes.

“There’s nobody out there but Ronan, okay. Just focus on him.”

“Okay.” I nod and she guides me out the door.

I’m shaking like a leaf, and my stomach flips when I see the room full of faces. They are all staring at me.

Mack squeezes my hand in hers and gives me a much needed support.

“Look at Ronan,” she whispers.

I do. I find his eyes at the end of the aisle. Soft and brown and focused only on me. He’s anxious too. Impatient. This was all his idea, but now it’s clear he just wants me there next to him. He doesn’t like to have me out of arm’s reach, especially around this many people. It’s just his way of protecting me.

I steel myself with several more deep breaths and take a step. And then another. And my eyes never leave Ronan’s. He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. Right now, in his suit, he’s even more so. It’s the same suit he always wears. But today it’s different. Today he looks like my husband.

Mack hands me off to Ronan at the end of the aisle, and he takes my hands in his. Almost immediately, my shaking stops, and everything else falls away. It’s only us now, and the sound of Rory’s voice as he performs the ceremony.

I recite the vows that were crafted for members of the syndicate. They are by no means normal. They speak of family, honor, and blood. Loyalty and protecting one another at all costs.

They couldn’t be more perfect if I’d written them myself.

I will always protect Ronan, just as I know he will always protect me.

When Rory moves onto the blood rite, he hands me the ceremonial blade first. Ronan and I both knew we wouldn’t be able to cut each other, which was tradition, so we opted to do it ourselves. The only other option was having Rory perform the ritual, however I had a feeling Ronan might very well murder him if he cut me.

So with Ronan’s eyes on mine, while Rory recites the words that bind our souls together for eternity, I take the blade to my finger and then hand it off to Ronan. He does the same, and then our hands are bound together with a piece of ribbon.

“My
anam cara
,” we both repeat together.

They are the same words carved into our wedding rings in Ogham script. The words that mean, quite simply, his soul is mated to mine.

The ritual is more powerful than I expected it to be. Raw energy pulses between us, our souls and our love binding us as one. There are tears in my eyes when we exchange the rings. I’ve never felt more emotional in my life. The love that I have for this man overwhelms me. That love is reflected in Ronan’s eyes.

And finally come the words that seal our fates.

My life, my love, my breath.

May we always have each other, in this life and the next.

Rory hands us a cup which we both drink from, and then he proclaims the words that make it official.

We are now husband and wife.

Ronan kisses me, in front of everyone, and he doesn’t hold back. When he finally pulls away at Rory’s insistence, I’m laughing and a little off kilter.

We both walk to the alter and perform the last and final step of the ceremony. The lighting of the candle.

And then he promptly bundles me up into his arms and carries me to the back office which he insists is custom as well. I’m pretty sure he’s making that part up, but I go with it, because… Ronan.

Always Ronan.