2. Serenity

Afurious pounding jerked me from a deep sleep.

I bolted upright in bed, my head spinning as it took a few seconds for my mind to catch up with the present. The bed I was in wasn’t familiar, and it was drenched in a delightfully heavy scent of patchouli and black pepper.

Flashes of the night before snapped into my waking mind.

The argument with my father that took place right after the poker game. The way he’d refused to listen to my pleas after he informed me he’d be selling me to his Boston ally. He’d chosen Boston because that’s where our family home resided, though we’d spent half our time in Bangor the last few years after my father had purchased the Bangor NHL expansion team. A team he’d lost to Crossland in a poker game. We hadn’t been back to Bangor since.

A sore bruise was purpling along my ribs, the exact place he’d hit me when I told him I had no interest in marrying the old mobster. He only ever hurt me where no one would be likely to see. He told me I was a selfish, ungrateful, spoiled princess who didnt care about family or blood or the succession of our empire.

He was right about one thing, I didnt care about family. Not when the only family Id ever known had done nothing but treat me like a piece of property my entire life.

Normally, I was too afraid to speak up, knowing all too well the extent of my fathers punishments. He hurt me in places that never showed, and he threatened my life anytime I stepped a toe out of line. Like the one time I ate pizza instead of grilled fish on one of the numerous business trips hed taken me on. He’d allowed the choice in public, but had punished me ruthlessly in private.

When I was young, I didnt know any better. My mother had been no help, as she’d been trained to be the perfect wife, which equated to silence and submission.

But as Id grown older, I felt restless. And maybe the monthly poker games had exposed me to a world I never knew existed, helped shake some sense into me. Seeing the way Gareth and his friends interacted with one another, and how they treated the women in their inner circle, made me dream of a life completely different than the one Id been born into. Gareth especially had always spoken up on my behalf, going as far as telling his friends that I could handle myself whenever my father forced me to take his seat in the game.

It filled me with hope, and that was torture.

For the longest time I’d kept those dreams close to my heart, protected them like a coveted secret I’d never share with anyone.

Last night had been my breaking point.

Last night, I decided Id rather risk my life, rather die, than spend the rest of my life with a cold stranger who wanted to treat me the same as my father did. Like I was worth only what my appearance offered.

The pounding that had woken me persisted, and my heart climbed up my throat, icy fear trickling into my veins.

My fathers voice roared on the other side of the door, and I flew out of the bed, still wearing the silk nightgown Id fallen asleep in.

Gareth was already rising from where he’d slept on the couch in his suite in Lake Tahoe, heading toward the main door with a scowl that was so him etched onto his face.

As if sensing I was behind him, he held up a hand without looking back, a silent signal to pause and not come any closer.

My bare feet stopped immediately, like my muscle memory had immediately transferred its obedience to Gareth the second we said our vows. Or it could be the fact that despite all logic, I trusted this near stranger more than I did my own father.

Gareth opened the door, keeping one hand braced on the frame to ensure that a tattooed, muscled bicep acted as a barrier.

“Is she in here?” my father yelled. “Is she with you, you slimy son of a bitch?”

“Get the fuck out of here, Doyle.”

“Dont you dare,” he spit back. “Serenity slipped her guard last night, and trust me, Ive already dealt with those idiots. But one of the hotel staff said they saw her standing outside your door last night. Did the little whore come crying to you after I told her she had to marry?—”

“Dont you dare talk about my wife that way.”

Gareth’s voice was absolutely lethal, and the primal claim in his tone sent warm shivers down my spine.

“Your what?” my father asked, his tone dropping a few octaves.

“My wife,” Gareth repeated.

I took that moment to peek around his massive frame, unable to stop the urge to look my father dead in the eyes as the news hit him.

Utter disappointment and disgust raked over every inch of his features before he turned back to Gareth.

“Thats impossible,” he said.

“Its not,” Gareth answered. “You know those favor chips I rarely give out? She won one from me in a hand you made her play in your stead. She called that favor in last night. There is absolutely nothing you can do.”

My fathers face drained of all color, and I wasnt exactly sure he’d remain standing. He knew what hed been getting into when he joined the billionaire’s game, and had signed all manner of legally binding documents before hed played his first round of cards.

One of which, if I remembered correctly, included an entire section about favor chips and how they were absolute, which is what made them so valuable.

“I dont believe you,” my father said, shaking his head. “You would never legally bind yourself to an OBrien?—”

“Maxfield,” Gareth cut over him. “She is no longer an OBrien, which makes her no longer your concern. She is fully under my protection, and if you so much as try to take her from me...” His voice trailed off, and my body literally trembled at the way he was looking at my father. “Well, you know exactly what will happen.”

Growing up as the heiress to the OBrien empire, I knew exactly what he was talking about. My family and Gareths had a sordid history that dated all the way back to the early twenties.

And while the blood feuds between the families had calmed over time, at least enough for us to sit at the same poker table, the feud had never been forgotten. A binding agreement between our families had never been up for discussion.

The weight of what I’d done by calling in my favor finally hit me, and I felt my knees go weak. I cursed myself for the vulnerability, hating that I’d had to come to Gareth in order to take some semblance of control of my life.

But what had I traded it for, a marriage to another mobster? Had I traded my prison for a gilded cage?

Trapped.

I felt absolutely trapped.

My father had backed me into a corner, forcing me to make an impossible choice. Now I was going to have to deal with that choice.

“Dont you dare threaten me,” my father fired back. “What youve done is start something that you no doubt cant finish.”

“Id be more concerned with what youve done,” Gareth said. He lowered his tone, but I still caught the words. “Look at what you forced your daughter into. Think about that, Doyle. Think about the fact that she came to me, of all people, because of what you pushed her into. Everything that happens next is on your hands.”

“Annul it.” My fathers tone left no room for objection. “Unless youve consummated the marriage, shes still of value to me. Annul it.”

“I dont like the tone youre using, O’Brien.” Brookss voice sounded from behind me, making me jump a little where I stood in the entryway.

I hadnt heard him approach at all. It made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I’d met Gareth’s best friend last night, when hed met us at the little chapel in Las Vegas. He was tall with lithe muscles concealed beneath simple clothes, yet there was nothing simple about him. Sure, he was attractive, his rich brown eyes almost charming, and hed been kind and respectful to me last night. But he had a dangerous exterior that put me on alert. Id spent my life raised by mobsters, and I could easily spot a killer. Brooks was most certainly one, but he had a confident, almost humorous edge about him that made him even more terrifying than Gareth, who was all brutal strength and no-nonsense attitude. I suppose the only consolation about the warning signs bursting beneath my skin about Gareth’s friend was that now I was under his protection, too.

“You called in him?” my father asked, and it shocked me a little to see the recognition and wariness in his eyes. He either knew Brooks or knew stories about him. Of course, I knew nothing. I’d been kept in the dark about almost everything, just like my mother and her mother before her, and so on and so forth.

“Witness,” Brooks said. “I was there. I signed the paperwork. Their marriage is legally binding and legitimate.”

My father shook his head again, a look of utter betrayal on his face as his eyes met mine. “You have no idea what you’ve fucked up,” he said, using the tone hed adopted since I was young, scolding me in a way that normally had me standing up straighter.

I was too tired to do that today. To do it ever again.

“And you,” he continued, returning his focus to Gareth. “I promise you, you’ll regret this.” With a glare, he spun on his heels and stomped down the hallway.

Gareth calmly shut the door, bolting both locks before he turned around to finally look at me.

My knees finally gave out, and I sank to the floor, right there in the middle of the entryway in front of Gareth and Brooks.

I sucked in a trembling breath, willing my heart to slow, but I couldn’t turn off every fear and worry and submissive reaction that my father had cultivated within me over the past twenty-five years.

I didnt know how long it would take to heal from that damage, or if it was even possible. I could only hope, with Gareths protection, that I’d have the time and space to figure it out.

But right now?

I felt like that stupid little girl my father accused me of being. I felt foolish and na?ve and completely out of my depth.

I felt like giving up.

The idea of climbing out of the hole Id been raised in was so damn overwhelming.

“Brooks,” Gareth said, as he hurried over to me. “Grab us some food, would you? We need to eat before we get on the plane.”

“On it,” he said, hurrying out of the room.

Gareth’s scent washed over me as he crouched down to my level, tipping my chin up in that gentle way of his, even with hands as deadly as his. It was almost a mirror image of the way he’d looked at me last night—the silent, protective look. Of course, I had no idea if that was because I was just a valuable investment, but right now I didnt care.

“Hes not going to hurt you,” Gareth said, his tone unflinching. “You’re safe with me.”

I breathed deeply, doing my best to pull myself together. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but the unknown was almost as terrifying as facing my fathers wrath.

“Do you hear me?” Gareth asked when I hadnt responded. “No one is going to hurt you.”

I nodded and tried to convey my thanks with a silent look, but I wasnt really sure if it was coming across as anything more than a grimace. My emotions were all over the place. I did my best to focus on the present, to ground myself in what I had control of now.

Which wasnt much.

“May I take a shower?”

Gareth seemed taken aback by the question. “Of course,” he said, offering his hand and helping me to my feet.

He looked like he was prepared to walk me all the way into the shower if he needed to, but I stepped away from his touch, waving him off.

“Im fine now,” I said.

He gave me a nod, and I carried myself the rest of the way, turning the hot water on before taking off the ridiculous nightgown I’d put on last night, hoping to seduce Gareth Maxfield.

As I stepped under the hot water, it almost seemed comical to me. The idea of me showing up in something silky and modest and hoping that the big, bad, tattooed mobster would fall to his knees for me.

An image of him on his knees before me as he offered me the solution to my problem burned in my mind.

I wondered what would have happened if things had gone differently? If we’d had sex and ruined all the selling power my father had?

With a night to sleep on it, Gareth had been right.

It would’ve made me unsellable, but my father would have hurt me over it. Possibly killed me.

What Gareth did, marrying me, had saved my life. Probably in more ways than he even realized. And even if it was just because of the favor chip, it still meant something to me.

After my shower, I forced myself to get ready slowly, focusing on each movement, each task, to keep from crumbling.

I pulled on a pair of sweats and an oversized T-shirt that I found among Gareths things. I hadn’t thought to bring a bag last night, reacting solely on instinct after the fight with my father. I was nowhere reckless enough to try and go back to get my clothes now.

I dried my hair, counting each brush stroke, the mundane actions helping stave off some of the anxiety that threatened to close my airways. I had no makeup to speak of, but while an immaculate, put-together appearance was always nonnegotiable for my father, it was the least of my concerns today.

Gareth was already married to me, and I was quite certain he had no interest in me intimately, so who cared if he saw me without a scrap of mascara or blush?

I looked in the mirror, not quite recognizing myself. I was practically swimming in Gareth’s clothes, but the scent of his skin clinging to them was a comforting thing I couldnt really explain. My hair had no product in it, and my face had no foundation or eyeshadow.

I was just me. I was the me I could only be for a few minutes in between showering and getting ready on a regular day.

But today wasnt a regular day.

Today was the start of an entirely new chapter in my life, and for better or for worse, I had to embrace that.

I walked out of the bedroom where the bathroom had been, my stomach rumbling as the smell of breakfast hit me.

Brooks and Gareth were setting silver platters on the dining table in the suite, taking off their lids to reveal pancakes and pastries, platters of fruit and cheese, whole grain toast and avocado, and eggs and bacon and sausage.

Brooks flashed me a smile that was both somehow sharp and inviting. “I didnt know what you liked, so I got a little of everything.”

“Thank you,” I said, lingering by an empty chair at the table.

It wasnt until Gareth and Brooks took their seats that my muscles unlocked and allowed me to sit, too. I felt Gareth’s eyes on me, but did my best not to acknowledge his curious stare.

Brooks quickly filled his plate, and then Gareth did his, all the while casting me sideways glances. Once they’d finished grabbing what they wanted, I finally reached for a plate of my own. I reached for the scoop buried underneath the fresh fruit and piled a small portion on my plate.

I brought it back and took a quick bite of melon.

Gareth and Brooks’s eyes were on me.

“Thats it?” Gareth asked. “Thats all you want?”

My lips parted open, unsure how to respond.

Id been on a strict diet since I was twelve years old. My father had final say over everything I put into my mouth, right down to the prenatal vitamins hed forced me to take for the last four years, just in case he sold me off. He wanted buyers to know I was healthy and fertile.

God, even thinking about it sounded fucking medieval, and I wanted to rage and cry and crumple into a little ball as I realized how pathetic my life had been up until now.

And hell, Gareth might do the exact same thing, because while he was officially out of the family empire that he’d been born into, people never really got out. He might have gone legitimate and made his wealth the straight way, but I knew he was still close with his family. I’d overheard my father talking about it after the first poker game we attended.

Maybe Gareth would start dictating my diet, too.

“Its fine,” I finally answered, not really ready to dive into the fact that my last personal food choice had cost me several bruises on my ribs that had taken weeks to heal.

Gareth motioned to the variety on the table. “Everything on this table and you want just fruit?”

I couldnt respond.

“Serenity,” he said, his powerful voice wrapping around my name in a way that had my stomach flipping. “You can have whatever you want.”

His words released a chain reaction inside of me, like his approval unlatched some collar Id had around my throat. I studied him, waiting for him to take it back, or scold me the minute I reached for the tongs, and put two fluffy pancakes on my plate.

Gareth made no move to scold me, but he did watch me. He kept those pale green eyes on me even as I took a bite of the delightful, fluffy concoction.

I moaned around the bite. I couldnt help it. It’d been ages since I tasted something as sweet and rich as this. So I took another bite, then another. I even had bacon—two slices. And by the time I was done, I was so full I almost regretted eating so much, but it was hard to when Id decided for myself.

When was the last time Id been able to choose anything?

I couldnt remember.

Gareth, Brooks, and I settled into a silence as they finished their breakfast, and afterward we quickly cleaned up, packed, and got on Gareth’s jet. The plane was Chicago bound, whisking us to his home.

“I’ll catch up with you soon,” Brooks said when we’d landed at the airport. “Call me if you need protection.”

“Doyle won’t try?—”

“Not from him,” Brooks cut Gareth off. “From Dante.”

Chill skated down my spine at the idea of Gareth needing any form of protection, but Gareth just waved his friend off. “I’ll call you if I need you,” he said before leading me into the back of a private black car that ushered us all the way to his gated estate.

There was something oddly comforting about those gates slamming home as the car pulled through them, and I couldnt help but marvel at how large and beautifully crafted Gareth’s home was.

The mansion had to be over one hundred years old, but its updates were extensive, and as he led me through the doors, giving me a brief tour, I was able to make out every edition that was purely Gareth—from the rich dark furniture and the lounge areas to his private offices that were lined wall-to-wall with books.

The tension in my body mounted when we made it to his bedroom, where he sat his suitcases in a giant closet in the farthest corner of the room. It was simple and clean, with personal touches that matched Gareth’s dark and brooding style—a gilded oil painting of a raven here, a black focal wall there.

I lingered in the main area, my eyes widening when I spotted a pair of hooks on his four-poster mahogany bed frame. I stared at them curiously, wondering what purpose they could serve before my mind finally leaped to the right conclusion.

The only conclusion.

I didn’t know much about sex, but I highly doubted Gareth was chaining himself up at night due to any physical ailment that would require him to do so. My heart skipped in my chest. He tied women up in here. I’m sure the waiting list was expansive. I wonder if that would change now? No, likely not. Why would it? This was a favor, nothing real. Still, I couldn’t stop myself from wondering what it would be like, to be wholly under Gareth’s control? Tied up with no choice to let him do whatever he wanted to me.

Heat streaked through me, but I quickly killed the fantasy.

Id never even been kissed before, not consensually, anyway. The son of an allying family had cornered me and kissed me when I was fourteen. It had been rough and quick and unpleasant. My guards beat him to a pulp when they caught him.

I trailed my fingers over one of the hooks, unable to quell the curiosity. “Are you planning to hold me prisoner?” I asked, trying to make a joke. It didn’t work, not with the reality I’d lived my entire life.

“I said I’d keep you safe,” he said, sliding his hands into his pants pockets.

“My hero,” I whispered.

“I’m no hero,” he said, nodding toward the hooks. “You dont need to worry about those.”

“Who said I was?”

“The tremble that just made you shiver.”

I swallowed hard, holding his gaze as he crossed the room to come within an arm’s reach of me.

“I said I’d keep you safe,” he said again. “But let’s get one thing clear, angel. I’m not your hero.” He tugged my hand away from the hook, and I swear electricity crackled beneath my skin. “You merely traded one monster for another.”