Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 79462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
He shakes his head, shoulders slumped, like he’s worn down to a nub. “It’ll ask everything. You know that.”
He leaves me alone on the balcony.
I return to my whiskey and the ocean.
Chapter 3
Fallon
The Oceanview Hotel in Atlantic City is an opulent absurdity. Lots of marble, gaudy paintings, caught somewhere between Greek and medieval Italian architecture. It’s a mishmash, a total mistake in judgment. Whoever designed the hotel was either drunk or just had terrible taste.
“It’s lovely, being back in America,” I say to Rian as we walk through the casino together. Lights flash, folks shout. The place is a maze, designed to disorient and confuse, but mostly to fleece patrons of all their hard-won cash. America in its purest form. A few seconds of bliss then ruin.
“Did you really miss it?” he asks.
“Sometimes. College was fun, you know? I made some decent friends. I’ve been thinking that while I’m in the States, I might as well try to see them again, right?”
“Right, you should.” Rian doesn’t add that I’ll have plenty of time to do it, seeing as I’ll be living here for the rest of my life.
Coming here for university, or college as they say, that had been my dream ever since I was a little girl. I’m not sure why America seemed so incredible to me, but it felt like there was so much opportunity and excitement in the new world.
Ireland’s always been a drab place full of sheep, beautiful views, and crappy little villages. We love our pints, our football, and our poets, but that pales compared to the insane capitalistic nightmare that is a major American metropolis. It’s like there’s so little history here and anyone can become a part of this place’s mythology.
I spent most of my childhood begging Papa to let me attend school overseas, and by some miracle, it actually happened. I did all four years at Barnard, a little liberal arts school for ladies, and earned a beautiful Bachelor of Arts degree in English Literature, which Papa found amusing.
That feels like forever and a world away. Even though I graduated only four years ago.
We pause beside a forest of slot machines, their lights flashing like maniacs, the people sitting at them prodding at the button as though it held their salvation. Screens click, letters and numbers appear as if at random, it keeps on going that way. None of it makes any sense. The place reeks of beer and sweat and cigarette smoke. Feels like home.
I try to picture Quinnie. Little innocent Quinnie. What would she think of a place like this, a foreign country, a real casino? The barely concealed sin, the danger? Papa used to say Quinnie was one of the good ones, which always bothered me since I thought I was a good one too.
Tried to be good, anyway. My mouth got me into trouble. Papa would always say too pretty and too smart for my own good. But Papa never had real trouble from me. I was too busy trying to be one of the guys when I was growing up, then focused on making my father happy and proud as I got older. That’s how I’ve never had so much as a serious boyfriend, which in retrospect was a damn shame, a lot of wasted time.
Now the first man I’ll ever sleep with will be a man I hate.
“I want to meet him,” I say and have to repeat myself louder when Rian doesn’t answer right away.
“That’s not part of the deal.” He seems uncomfortable. “We have a strict timeline.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one getting married.”
“I know, Fallie, I know, but this is delicate.”
“Delicate how? Sorry, are you going to be expected to perform on your wedding night?”
“Don’t be crass.”
“Don’t be a dick then, Chim.”
“There are people who don’t want this to happen.” He gives me one of those sidelong looks then glances at our protection. The soldiers lurk nearby. His men, in theory at least, but I’ve heard the rumors too. The Grady Clan was held together by Papa’s charm, but Papa’s dead and it’s Rian in charge now, and my older brother isn’t my father.
Yes, Rian’s clever, he’s strong, he’s even vicious when he’s got to be, but he isn’t the type of man who can lead an army into a meat grinder with absolute obedience. Papa had that gift. The charm, I used to call it. Some indescribable trait that draws people in and keeps them.
“Those people are in Dublin,” I tell him.
“Maybe they are or maybe they’re here and they’ll make a move if you put yourself in a bad spot.” Rian shakes his head. “It’s bad enough asking you to marry the Costa man. I don’t want to get you killed, too.”
“The Costas can make sure we’re safe. Rian, I want to meet him before I marry him.” I pause, feeling like an absolute fool, but I push on. “I could have an actual marriage to this man. I don’t like it, but I’ll be stuck with him, right? I might as well give it a go, and that means speaking with him at least once before I take the plunge. I want to know him.”