THE CALLAHANS (A Mafia Romance): The Complete 5 Books Series (52 page)

She shook her head. “Not after I got here.”

She was crying, but she was looking at me with such defiance in her eyes that I couldn’t help but believe her. I turned away, trying to get all of this straight in my head. I was married but couldn’t remember the actual ceremony—or the bride—and now she didn’t want a divorce because she was Catholic. How archaic was that?

“Why don’t you stay for a little while? We’ll order some breakfast and figure this out.”

She was reluctant, I could see it when I turned to gage her reaction. She looked almost longingly at the door, but then inclined her head.

“Okay.”

“I’m Kyle Callahan, by the way,” I said, approaching her as one would a wild animal: with caution, curiosity, and with every muscle ready to turn and flee.

“I know,” she said softly, accepting my proffered hand. “Mickey told me who you were last night when he explained that you wanted to buy me dinner. And then you told me a few things about yourself before we got married.”

“Did I?”

I remembered asking Mickey about her. I didn’t remember telling her anything about me. I didn’t remember her arriving at my suite. My last clear memory was of walking in here and finding Mickey setting up…that’s about where my memory grew foggy. I couldn’t remember why Mickey was in this room.

“You really don’t remember, do you?”

Concern crossed her face, but there was something about it that didn’t feel genuine. Did she know something she wasn’t telling me? Did she have an idea why I had no memory of last night?

I wasn’t an angel. I’d had blackouts before. I liked my booze; I liked to have a good time. I’d been known to go to a club and not sober up until several days later. Pops had to bail me out a few times in high school and college after I got a little too crazy at one party or another. And I’d served time in juvie and jail for one thing or another. We all had—except maybe Sean and Kevin. Even Ian had spent two years in federal lock up for some sort of computer crime that I would never even begin to understand.

Poor Abigail. She was a true saint, yet all her children were fuckups who followed too closely in Pops’ footsteps.

But this didn’t feel like a blackout. This felt different.

I gestured for her to follow me across the room to the table that sat in front of the impressive wall of windows at the back of the suite. I opened the doors that led out onto the balcony to let a little of the hot, humid Vegas air into the room then settled in a chair across from hers.

“You work here?”

She nodded. “I’ve worked here a little over six months.”

I remembered her; I remembered seeing her in the casino on more than one visit. She was distinctive not only in her looks—and she was beautiful, even in the ridiculous costumes Mickey found so alluring—but in the way she held herself. She seemed slightly above her station, as though she was a princess walking among the peasants. That look intrigued me.

“You served me drinks last night.”

She inclined her head. “Vodka cranberry.”

“Yeah.” I sat back a little. “Why here? Why Vegas?”

She looked away, a war of emotions dancing on her face that she clearly didn’t want me to see. “It’s as good a place as any.”

“Yeah? Where are you from?”

“Oregon.”

“What part of Oregon?”

“Ashland.”

My eyebrows rose. “Nice area.”

She agreed with a slight movement of her head. She didn’t talk much, did she?

“Did you already tell me all this?”

She looked over at me, her eyes moving slowly over my face. “We talked about a lot of things last night.”

“Obviously.”

“It’s not like I trapped you into this. This was all your idea!”

She stood and started for the door. I chased after her, some part of me convinced that I couldn’t let her leave. I grabbed her arm and turned her around, forcing her to stop.

“Look, I’m just trying to figure all this out, okay? I don’t remember what happened last night, and I’m not the kind of guy who just gets married on a whim. I just…I want to understand.”

Her expression softened slightly. “It must be confusing.”

“Like I said, let’s order some breakfast and talk about this. Okay?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

That was better than nothing. I pulled her back toward the table, and then I grabbed the phone and called down for a lavish breakfast: eggs and bacon, fruit, pancakes, sweet rolls, and orange juice. Suddenly, it all sounded incredibly good.

I’d had a headache since I woke up, but I put it down to too much drinking. The headache came along with a stomachache that plagued me until the moment I ordered the food. But could it be from something else?

I threw myself back into my chair and crossed my arms as I studied Amelia.

“The thing I don’t get about all this is that I’m not the marrying kind. I have no intention of ever tying myself down to a woman. Yet, here I am, with this ring on my finger.” I held up my hand and looked at the wedding band as it sparkled in the light. “What did you say to me that made me want to marry you so badly?”

She shrugged, another blush crawling up her face.

“I told you I wouldn’t go to bed with you.”

“Did you? And that was enough for me to put a ring on your finger?”

“You said it worked for Danny Bonaduce.”

“I said that?” I laughed because that was a joke between Killian and I. “And you went for it?”

“You said some other things, sweet things. You can be very charming when you want to be.”

“I suppose I can.”

I walked over to where the pictures were still sitting on a side table. I picked them up and looked through them, shaking my head at the almost dumb look on my face. But I had to admit that I didn’t look high or drunk or out of it in any way.

“Where’s the tux?”

“We borrowed the clothes from the chapel.”

“A full-service wedding?”

“It was thirty dollars extra, but you said that it wasn’t right to get married in jeans.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. We looked ridiculous in those pictures. I had to have been drunk to think that the chapel’s tux would be better than jeans.

I dropped them back onto the table and turned, searching her face for some clue as to why I would suddenly have a personality change after having dinner with her. She was pretty and everything, but I’d been with prettier women without a word of marriage falling from my lips.

“My brothers wouldn’t believe this even if I texted every one of these photographs to them. They’d laugh their fucking asses off, but they wouldn’t believe it.”

Her face reddened. “Could you watch the language?”

My eyebrows rose. “You married a man you hardly know, but you don’t like my language?”

“It’s a little harsh.”

I laughed again. “This is going to be so much fun. You’re acting like my mother.”

“Would that be Abigail or the other one?”

The laughter immediately disappeared. I never talked about my biological mother. How would she know…?

I walked back to the table and settled slowly in my chair.

“Tell me what the
f
…hell is going on here, please.”

She just shrugged. “I don’t know. We had a good time. You made promises. We got married. That’s all there is to it.”

“What did I promise you?”

She shook her head, her eyes falling to the top of the table. And that’s when I knew I was in real trouble.

Amelia

The food arrived and Kyle busied himself arranging it on the table. I got the impression that he didn’t really care where any of it went, he was just trying to buy time to think things through. He was confused. Frustrated. I couldn’t really blame him.

I wondered what I would have done if the shoe was on the other foot. Would I have gone running out of the room, accusing him of things that he never did? Or would I have been patient enough to try to get the true story?

I had to commend him for his patience.

“Let’s start at the beginning,” he said as he took his seat again.

The food—it smelled absolutely heavenly!—wafting between us. I helped myself to a couple of pancakes and some bacon strips because I simply couldn’t resist. I hadn’t eaten much last night and almost nothing at all before that. And these…there was nothing in my refrigerator back at my tiny apartment that could compare to this stuff! The cooks here were top notch. The Callahans didn’t spare a nickel on that part of the hotel and casino, that’s for sure.

“What time did you get here last night?”

I shrugged. “A little before eleven.”

He sat back, watching me as if I was some street urchin he’d taken in from off the streets. And maybe I looked that way despite the expensive cocktail dress I’d had hidden in the back of my closet for just such an occasion—though I don’t think seducing some unsuspecting man into marriage was really the occasion I was thinking about. I had my mind more on a nice dinner in a nice restaurant, like the ones my parents used to take me to.

“And I was here alone?”

“Yes.” I glanced at him. He wasn’t eating, just watching me tuck into those pancakes. I licked a little syrup from my fingers and set down my fork, glancing longingly at the sweet rolls. “You were here, dressed in those jeans and that shirt, waiting with a glass of wine your hand.”

“I let you in?”

“Mickey did. He was just leaving as I arrived.”

“Why was Mickey here?”

“Don’t know.” I took the chance and grabbed a sweet roll, loving the soft texture as I bit into it. “He didn’t really say.”

“Then what?”

I took another bite, then answered him as politely as I could with the sweet roll in my mouth. “You poured me a glass of wine and invited me to join you for dinner. We talked a little as we ate, but it was a little awkward at first. Then you invited me to the couch and we warmed up to each other.”

“Warmed up how?”

I took another bite of the roll, realizing that I was coming to a point where I had to tread carefully. “You asked me about my life. I asked you about your life. We realized that we had a few things in common, so we spent time talking about those things.”

“Like what?”

“Like the movies we like to watch and the music we listen to.” I set my roll down and licked my fingers, aware of how closely he was watching me. “You like Green Day and the Stones. I like Twenty-one Pilots and Shawn Mendes. You teased me, and I teased you, but then you made me confess that I love
Wake Me Up When Septembers Ends.
”

A little light danced in his eyes when I said that. He leaned forward, reaching for a piece of bacon even as he watched me.

“How did we end up at the chapel?”

I blushed. It was easy because the memory was real.

“You started kissing me. We sort of made out on the couch…” I gestured behind me in the vague direction of the couch. “You were getting a little fresh, and I asked you to stop. That’s when you suggested if we were married, I wouldn’t ask you to stop.”

“It was my idea?”

I nodded, the lie easier when I didn’t have to put it into words.

“And you agreed?”

“I told you things about me, personal things I’d rather not repeat, and you promised to fix them for me.”

“Did I?”

I looked up, the sweet roll suddenly this heavy, thick lump in my stomach. I hated lying. I prided myself on my honesty. I’d lost friends because I’m completely honest about everything. But I had to lie.

“We drank a lot. I drank a lot. I told you things I’ve never told anyone and you…” I stopped, tears creating a new lump in my throat. “I know you don’t remember any of this. I can just go and we can—”

“What? If you won’t divorce me, what options are there?”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry.”

Tears began spilling down my cheeks. I reached up and rubbed them away, feeling suddenly as though I’d been stripped naked and placed on display. I wanted out of there; I wanted to call this whole thing a mistake. I knew it wouldn’t work; I knew that I couldn’t convince him that he wanted me. We’d known each other all of…what? Five minutes? It was ridiculous to believe that I was enough to convince him to play this game.

But then he was out of the chair and crossing toward me, his hand resting heavy on my shoulder.

“Don’t cry.”

I brushed the tears away again.

“I’m sorry. I’ve never done anything like this before…I never imagined I ever would. The only reason I came up here last night was because you were so nice to me when I took you those drinks at the blackjack table. Most guys are condescending or they touch me in unwelcome ways. But you…you were kind compared to all of them.”

He knelt beside me, taking my hand gently between both of his. “My Pops taught me a lot of things, but the most important was to be kind to a woman.” He smiled softly. “I always tried to remember his advice, even when a heartbroken woman is throwing things at me from across the room, something that’s happened on more than one occasion.”

I smiled, finding it very easy to imagine such a thing.

“Look, this clearly isn’t all your fault,” he said, brushing a few more tears from my cheek. “Surely we can find a way to work it out so that we both benefit.”

I shook my head emphatically. “No. I don’t want to take anything from you. I just…my father would have a stroke if he knew what I’d done.”

“Mine, too.”

He suddenly stood and began to pace the room.

“What about an annulment?”

“If it’s done by a priest…”

“I could do that.” He turned to look at me. “But I’d need you to promise that no word of this would get out. You can’t tell anyone, not your father, not your friends. No one.”

I looked down, let my hair fall over my face so he couldn’t see my expression.

“It’s not like I’m proud of this.”

“It’s just…my dad has had some unpleasantness happen over the last few months. It really wouldn’t help him much if this got out, you know?”

I brushed my hair back, taking a peek at him.

“I know about your dad’s arrest. But the charges were dropped, right?”

“Yeah, well, that sort of thing sticks with you when you’re CEO of a major conglomerate and you’ve been arrested for mafia-style activities. My brother is brilliant, spinning the tale enough so that people are a little confused as to what really happened, but even he can’t save my father’s reputation completely. If word got out that his card shark son got married and divorced in a matter of hours, it won’t help much.”

“I won’t tell anyone, but…” I let my words fall hard between us, again feeling the lump of that sweet roll in my stomach. I’d thought he was a womanizer, a real ass, when I came up here last night. The rumors I’d heard about him seemed to support that. But now that I was getting to know him, I was wondering if the rumors were just that. Rumors.

“But?”

“You sort of let the cat out of the bag last night.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, his muscles bulging as he stared at me. “How did I do that?”

“You got on the PA system at the front desk and announced it to everyone in the casino. It was well after five, so I don’t think many people heard it, but a few did. And Mickey.”

“Mickey?”

“He was there. He arranged the car, even came with us as a witness.”

“Fuck!” He began to pace again, moving so quickly that he might have burned a hole in the carpet if he’d gone at it any longer. “He’s probably already called my dad.”

“I don’t know.”

“I can’t believe this is happening! I never wanted to get married, never wanted to be tied down. I don’t want this. I don’t want the responsibility that comes with it! Why would I…?”

He shook his head as he continued pacing. I got up and grabbed my bag from where it was sitting behind the couch. I hadn’t noticed it until just then, but I was glad I hadn’t left without it since it had my apartment keys in it. But I’d had just about enough of this. I didn’t want to be involved in this chaos any more.

I knew nothing about this guy. How did I know he wasn’t going to turn his anger on me? How did I know he wouldn’t beat the crap out of me, or force himself on me? How did I know he wouldn’t just toss me out on the street, or make Mickey fire me? I knew this was dangerous when I got involved, but I’d never really thought about all the consequences. What had I gotten myself into?

“Where are you going?”

I paused, nearly to the door. I was calculating his distance to me compared to my distance from the door. I was pretty sure I could make it. But, instead, I turned and looked at him.

“You clearly don’t want me here. I feel like I’m just making this whole thing worse. I want to go home, have a bath, and think it out a little bit myself.”

He studied my face for a long minute, then nodded. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“I just…give me your address. I need to be able to find you when I figure out what our next step should be.”

“Of course.”

I searched through my purse and pulled out a small pad of paper on which I quickly scribbled my address and phone number. I tore off the sheet and handed it to him.

He glanced at it, then at me. And then he began pacing again.

I was free to go. I couldn’t believe it, but I was getting out of there before anything else happened.

At least I thought I was…but then I opened the door and found Mickey standing there, his hand raised as though he was about to knock.

“Hello, Amy,” he said with a bit of confusion in his eyes.

“Hi, Mickey.”

“Were you leaving?”

I opened my mouth to explain, but Kyle came up behind me. He lay his hand on my shoulder, a heavy hand that made my knees feel as though they might buckle.

“What are you doing up here, Mickey?”

“I just came to check if ten was too early for the wedding reception.”

“Wedding reception?”

I closed my eyes. I hadn’t realized they would go quite that far. But, apparently, even I had underestimated Mickey.

“The staff wanted to throw a party in your honor. After your announcement last night, they were all pretty excited for you.”

Kyle’s grip on my shoulder tightened just slightly. “I’m sure they were.”

“Especially since you married such a beloved employee here at the casino. Her friends on staff wanted to give her a proper celebration.”

“It’s not necessary—”

“That’s lovely,” Kyle interrupted me. “Ten o’clock is great. Gives us time to clean up and changed…you know how long it takes newlyweds to get themselves going the day after their wedding.”

There was amusement in Kyle’s voice, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t genuine. Mickey seemed to understand that, too, because he shot me a quick look before he backed up.

“Okay. Then we’ll see you in ballroom number 4, the one by the pool?”

“Yeah, I know where that’s at.”

Mickey nodded again, looking first at Kyle, then at me. Finally, he turned away.

“Congrats,” he said over his shoulder.

“Thanks, Mick.”

We watched him disappear onto the elevator. Kyle took hold of my arm and tugged me back into his suite, turning me as the door closed. He pushed me up against the hardwood door and stood just inches from my face.

“Did you know about this?”

“No!”

“Are you sure?”

“Would I have tried to leave if I did?”

He studied my face for a long minute, then he nodded. “Okay. I believe you.”

He pulled away, moving back into the pacing path he’d been following earlier.

“I still need to go home and find something better to wear.”

I looked at me. “You can use the shower here. Anything you need we can order up from the boutiques downstairs.”

“I don’t want to do that when I have a whole closet full of things across town.”

“Do they all look like that?”

I blushed as I glanced down at myself.

“Go get in the shower. I’ll order something.”

It was more of a command than a suggestion. I didn’t like his tone of voice, and I didn’t like that he wasn’t going to let me leave now. But I walked into this with full knowledge of what it was I was doing. And I had to keep the rouse up if I wanted to protect my family.