Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Tears fell down Niamh’s cheeks. I was breaking her heart and there was nothing I could do about it.
“We don’t have a choice, do we?” she asked.
“No”
She nodded. “Then I guess you and I are getting married.”
Chapter Fourteen
Niamh
One Month Later
I’m no longer Niamh Byrne.
Nope.
Staring down at my wedding band as I sat on the toilet, trying to avoid the wedding reception, I’m Niamh Byrne-Orlov. At Ivan’s insistence, I was to keep my last name and just add that touch of Peter. Peter didn’t argue. Neither did I. There was no point.
I was at a wedding where I didn’t know a single wedding guest. I’d not invited any of my family because in the past month, my mom had phoned five times, attempting to lure me away from Peter’s home.
My father wanted me back in his care, but he had no intention of caring for me. I saw that now. The only reason Finn had ever come around was because of the inheritance, which I’d not been aware of. I couldn’t help but wonder if my mom knew the truth. I doubted it, because she would have found some way to use me to get money for herself.
That was all it was about with my family—money and power.
The sound of feminine giggles filled the bathroom, but I didn’t go out to join them. Ivan had helped me choose my bridesmaids. They had been the wives of the other Brigadiers. I had only met them a couple of times. All three of them seemed nice, so too did a woman who asked me to call her Butcher.
Again, I was not going to question it.
At the moment, I preferred to be on autopilot. It made life a lot safer for me, and I didn’t have to think.
I put my hand on my stomach. I tried not to have moments like these where I started to think about what I had lost. A baby. My baby. Someone I could love and who might, if I was a good mom, love me back. I didn’t want to force anyone to love me, but just for once, it
would be nice to meet someone who could potentially love me for me. No one else ever had. Not even Peter.
Tears filled my eyes, and with the makeup I wore, I didn’t want anyone asking questions. Someone walked into the bathroom and in a calm, collected voice, ordered everyone out. This made me frown.
“You can come out, Niamh.”
I wanted to stay inside the bathroom and not come out, but at that instruction, I was a little pissed, so I unlocked the door of the cubicle and opened it to find The Butcher standing with her arms folded.
“Why are you hidden away in here?” she asked.
“I’m not hiding. I had to use the bathroom.”
“You’ve been locked away for half an hour. Did you have to do a number two?”
This made me frown. “What? Why are you asking me that?”
“If you’re struggling to go, then I recommend some water or fiber.”
I put my hand over my ears and frowned. “No, please stop.”
She shrugged. “I’m only trying to help. So, if you’re not taking the world’s largest dump, why are you keeping yourself in the bathroom?”
I had never met a woman like her. She wouldn’t tell me her real name, and in the last month, I had seen a lot of The Butcher. Peter told me to be careful around her. I didn’t know why. She’d only ever been kind to me.
“I’m not locking myself away.”
She raised both her eyebrows and didn’t say a word. She looked so beautiful. The lilac bridesmaid dresses Ivan had picked out made all the women at my wedding look stunning.
The Butcher had her hair pinned back at the nape of her neck, with ringlets cascading down her face. She looked stunning.
The dress molded to her curves, and she had a figure I wished I had. She had full breasts and hips, and to me, she had the body of a curvy model. Peter told me not to be easily fooled. The Butcher was a cold-blooded killer. She had more kills than anyone else he knew, apart from perhaps The Beast, but apparently there was a great deal of debate in how many kills either of them had.
Again, this was not a topic of conversation I was ever going to have. Ivan had already made me aware that The Butcher was sticking close because of Finn. The Volkov Bratva had promised to take care of me, and I was never going to be hurt like I was last time. Again, I wanted to touch my stomach, but I stopped myself from doing that, and instead glanced over at the woman who was in the bathroom with me.
“You do know I can tell you’re lying,” she said.
“I’m fine, I wanted to be alone. Is that a crime?”