Page 30 of Malevolent Hearts
Suddenly, my gaze flicks to the fridge next to the sink, or more importantly, the Polaroid photo I pinned to it with a magnet on Friday. My feet carry me around the breakfast island until I’m ripping the last image I took of my brother off the metal door. All the air vacates my lungs as I stare down at the selfie I’d made him take before he left with Rohan to collect Saoirse. A large smile broadens my face as I look up at my brother with his tongue poking out between his teeth, two fingers holding up a peace sign.
The wave of sadness I expect never comes, instead it’s replaced by a fire of fury that licks through me. It hits me all at once—my brother didn’t just die, someone had him killed. Yet here I am, drowning in sorrow when I should be burning the world down to avenge him.
It’s then, as I stare down at the last memory I will ever have of Liam, I decide I’m done falling victim to my tears.
Time to find the girl I was before the grief broke her. Thankfully, I know the first place to look.
Seventeen
Cadden
The Past
In the tapestry of secrets, duty’s threads entwine,
Love and hate’s delicate balance, a story divine.
Sealed by a contract, two names on a line,
An arranged marriage, with destinies defined.
—Cadden James Connelly
Unease coils under my skin as I sit in one of two chairs facing my father’s office desk. Next to me, Beibhinn takes up residence in the other. Tension rolls off her in waves. We knew this day was coming—the day my father and Oliver decide whether or not Beibhinn will become my wife––and even though things between Beibhinn and I have progressed since the beginning of the summer, the heavy weight of our pending futures still burdens us.
I swallow the thick lump in my throat and fix my gaze on my father and Oliver. They’re standing in front of the window, blocking the daylight from entering the room. Their heads bow together while they engage in whispered small talk, excluding Beibhinn and me from whatever conclusion they’ve come to.
My heart throbs wildly in my chest. I hate that they hold all the cards even though I’m hoping this plays out in my and Beibhinn’s favour. Regardless of our growing feelings or physical presence, we aren’t privy to their hushed discussion because, like it or not, we don’t have any say on how the rest of this meeting—or our lives—progress.
Growing up, I never gave much thought to syndicate legislation surrounding marriage, opting to put it on hold until the time came. But now that day is here, and I’m a ball of conflicting emotions. My racing pulse drums in my ears, matching the fidgety bounce in my left leg. In a piss-poor attempt to distract myself, I take in my surroundings. I start by counting the colours in the stained glass. Then I move to the lead lines that separate each colour. The more my gaze wanders, the more evident my family’s wealth becomes. Finn Connelly spared no expense in creating a domain that emits power and authority, using dark oak furnishings with leather accents to create a rich masculine aesthetic. The crystal decanters on the shelves house expensive aged whiskey while the distinct fragrance of cigar smoke ferments the air. Everything about this space screams business dealings made by men. And I despise it.
My palms sweat with the realisation that one day all this will be mine. Not because it’s earned or wanted, but because I am Cadden Connelly, only son of the current Munster king and heir to the Munster throne. My stomach coils at the thought. My future is the penance I’ll pay for the sins I commit in my father’s name.
Satisfied my eyes have swept every corner, my gaze trails to the girl sitting next to me. Gone are the softened edges she lets me see in our private moments. Instead, her bold and unbreakable armour is back in place. But beyond her veil of give no fucks, apprehension lingers in her icy blue eyes, somewhat overruled by her determination. Sass pouts her lips as frustration furrows her brow. But even with her prickly exterior, she’s still breathtakingly stunning. Especially when her eyes flick towards me and I see what she doesn’t allow others to view—a vulnerability towards the unknown.
It should bother me that Beibhinn doesn’t want this life, but how could it? She deserves more than to be tied to a man out of obligation or duty. It doesn’t matter that we share feelings most other arranged marriages don’t. I knew from the beginning she never wanted to be a decorative trophy wife in my kingdom by the sea. She needs more for herself, and she should. She’s too strong, too proud, too fucking stubborn to be a queen in a king’s kingdom. She’s a leader, but our fathers are forcing her to follow and there’s nothing she nor I can do about it.
I’m snapped back to reality when my father—a man of few words but immense influence—suddenly produces a stack of paper, crisp and official in appearance. “This contract,” he begins, his voice firm, “is the first step to solidifying the union between our families. When you reach eligibility, you will merge two sectors of the Emerald Isle Syndicate, creating a powerful alliance that will prosper for generations to come.” He drops the contract onto the desktop in front of Beibhinn with a thud. “These papers are a way to ensure your impending nuptials by confirming your intent to marry.”
I swallow the growing lump in my throat, fighting through the conflicting emotions brewing inside me. On one hand, I’m thrilled my father decided Beibhhinn and I were a good fit, but on the other hand, I hate that I will be the cost of her freedom. “What happens if we don’t sign?”
Oliver’s sharp gaze cuts towards me, his expression unreadable. “Listen up, boy! It’s no skin off my nose if you refuse this marriage. But once my daughter leaves here without a signature, she will not be back. This arrangement is as good as you’re going to get. If you or my daughter resist, the outcome will remain the same for her. With or without you, Beibhinn will marry a syndicate king.”
Bile bubbles in the pit of my stomach. The thought of Beibhinn being tied to anyone but me doesn’t sit right. Either way, her father will make her choose a king. Am I selfish to hope it’s me she picks?
Oliver shares a look with my father before directing his beady stare at Beibhinn. “I’ve given you ample time to get to know Cadden and your new kingdom, and to be frank, it’s more than most get. I couldn’t give a rat’s arse if you two spend the rest of your lives hating each other. Finn and I have decided this deal is beneficial to all parties involved. If you choose to forgo this option, you will take your place next to Orion Murphy instead.”
Orion? He can’t be fucking serious. That gombeen is as thick as two planks. She’d eat him for breakfast after he handed her the fucking spoon.
Next to me, Beibhinn is uncharacteristically quiet, but I can see she’s working through her thoughts by the set of her narrowed brow. I hold my breath, waiting for her to come to a conclusion. All summer long we’ve kept up our facade of hate, fearing what our fathers would do if they knew we’d been seeing each other. We didn’t want to risk anything, and from the way today is playing out, we were right to keep our feelings for each other hidden.
Finally, after what feels like a fucking lifetime, Beibhinn slides the papers towards her and picks up a pen. “Let it be known,” she barks, “I don’t agree with any of this backward arranged-marriage bullshit. But seeing as I don’t have much of a choice…”
Her eyes flick in my direction, and my lungs tighten as she turns to the last page and scribbles her name on the highlighted line, dotting her i’s with tiny skulls before punctuating her signature with a drawing of a middle finger. Once she’s completed her drawing, her shoulders drop, and she seeks my gaze. “If I am signing my life away, it may as well be to the devil I know.”
My lips hitch into a subtle smile, and I follow suit. On the outside, I am the picture of composure, but underneath, my body rattles with nerves as I reach for the contract. Much like Beibhinn did, I skim the papers, then flick straight to the last page where there is an X marked next to where I should sign. I scrawl my signature along the dotted line below hers. Then, for what feels like the first time since I entered my father’s office, I take a breath and slide the contract across the desk. It’s official. One day, Beibhinn Devereux will become my wife.
Blocked from both of our fathers’ views, hidden behind the safety of the office desk, Beibhinn’s trembling hand reaches for mine. My grip tightens on hers, enclosing her palm with mine, offering reassurance.