CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

"We'll meet you inside," I told the two in the front as the SUV rolled to a gentle stop outside the front doors of Lacroix House.

Vance grabbed his briefcase off the floor of the car and muttered something about filing the paperwork with the lawyers, but I was watching Naya. Watching her examining her hand bearing my mother's rings.

No one had spoken through the drive, but I had never been more aware of another person than I'd been watching her twitch and shift her small hands. Letting the sun and light lance off the cluster of diamonds and emeralds.

It had been the ring Hael had given Delphine. The ring Jeffrey had given Vittoria. It was the family ring going generations until it had ended up on Mom's finger. It seemed ironic that the ring had out lasted five Lacroix women. Now six.

I hadn't given it to the others. I hadn't given them any. There was never any chance to, but even if I had, it hadn't felt right. With Naya, I had wanted her to have it. Mom would have wanted her to have it. She would have loved Naya. She would have insisted because that ring held the love every Lacroix woman had ever had for their husbands. It was their courage and strength. Mom used to talk about the bands giving her strength when she needed it because it reminded her that no matter what, she had my father and me, and as long as she did, she had the world.

I wanted Naya to have the world.

I wanted her to know that I would always stand between her and anything trying to get her.

That ring was supposed to symbolize just how serious I was about keeping her forever.

But she hadn't said a word.

Her expression was so sad, so desolate. Did she hate it? Had she hoped for something better? Did she think it was cursed like the house? Maybe it hadn't been a good idea giving her something that was only ever passed down through death.

Fuck!

I should have known better.

"We can get something else," I told her once Cyrus's door had closed behind him.

Naya's head turned to me, confusion creasing her brow. "I'm sorry?"

I nodded towards her hand. "A different ring. We can go tomorrow—"

Her small fingers curled against her thigh as if afraid I was going to rip the ring off her hand. "What? Why?"

"I thought maybe you would like something of your own."

I watched her run the fingers of her free hand over the bands. Uncertainty drawing her lip between her teeth.

"Then why did you give them to me?"

This wasn't how I had wanted this conversation to go. I was trying to make it easier on her to tell me she disliked the ones she was given, but her expression was ... hurt.

"Because my mom would have wanted you to have them, but I understand if—"

"I love them." She lowered her chin to the bands and smoothed her thumb across the thin cluster of diamonds. "They're so beautiful and I love that they belonged to your mom." She raised her face to mine. "But if you're having second thoughts about giving them to me—"

I took her hand and kissed the back. Then the tips of each finger before making my way across her palm to the tiny pulse just inside her wrist.

"That's not it, sweetheart. You've been so quiet on the drive. I thought maybe you had something else in mind."

Naya shook her head. "It's going to sound ridiculous, but..." she lowered her chin. "I feel like I can feel your mom." She stole a peek up at me. Hesitant. "Like she's still connected to the rings."

"And that bothers you," I thought slowly.

Again, she rocked her head. "Not at all. It makes me sad because I think I would have liked her." She gave a small chuckle. "You probably think you married a crazy person."

"I think I married someone I really don't deserve," I corrected.

Naya wrinkled her nose. "That's silly. Why—?"

I kissed her long and hard and desperate. Trying to convey everything I wished I could put into words.

"She would have loved you," I said against her mouth. "She always wanted a daughter. She would have spoiled you." I pressed kisses to her chin. Her throat. Then back up to her lips. "Same with my dad. You never would have wanted for anything again."

She gave me a lazy smile, her head back against the headrest, her eyes misty with desire. "I don't want anything, except my husband."

I knew what I was. The ink wasn't even dry on the license, but...

Jesus, she was mine.

She was my wife.

I had a whole person who I was going to grow old with and have babies with and wake up with every morning.

Tingling with the realization, I kissed her again, but quick and short because I needed to get her inside and on my ... our bed.

"Get inside," I growled against her lips.

She offered me a lopsided grin but said nothing as I rolled out of the vehicle first and rounded to her side. She slipped her hand with her rings into my offered palm and let me guide her down. Her beautiful eyes never wavered from mine even as I led her up the porch.

I stopped just outside the door and faced her. "Last chance, Blue. You can still run."

She blinked up at me. "Shouldn't you have said that before we got to the courthouse?"

I smirked. "Why would I do that?"

She stared at me like I'd lost my mind. "In case I changed my mind."

I leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. "That's why I didn't say anything."

She laughed and I grinned as I bent and scooped her up into my arms. I kicked the bottom of the door three times with the toe of my shoe.

Cyrus opened it and I carried Naya over the threshold. Her lips whispered along the jagged lines of my scars, lighting little fires beneath my skin as I marched us to the stairs.

"No one is to bother us tonight." I told my best friend in passing.

"Sir—"

I shot a warning glare over my shoulder. "I don't care."

But I was aware of Cyrus following my path to the top. His annoyance and need to interrupt burning between my shoulder blades. I knew whatever it was must have been important enough to risk getting shot when he stopped just behind me outside Naya's bedroom ... her closet, I corrected, because she was never fucking sleeping in that bed again.

I drew in a breath to calm my impatience. Naya must have felt it because she kissed my nose and smiled.

"I have to change anyway," she said softly. "You have twenty minutes."

I didn't need twenty minutes.

I had fucking plans for her and that white dress and my bed. All night. Maybe all fucking week.

She kissed me again on the lips this time. "It's okay."

It wasn't, but I gritted my jaw and kicked open the door. I carried her over and set her down on the carpet. A gust of wind blew in, toying with the sheer layers of her skirt. Naya winced and turned her head in the direction of the windows. Her eyebrows creased.

I followed her gaze to the open panel spilling the cool, afternoon breeze into the room filling it with the smell of the lake, wet grass and pine with just a hint of muggy swamp.

"What is it?"

She shook her head. "I don't remember opening that."

A chill scuttled up my spine as I stared at the center panel with the freshest coat of paint. It was the window Constance had fallen through. I didn't even know it opened. Maybe that was a new thing the contractor had put in.

I stalked across the room and yanked it shut. I snapped the bolt into place to lock it.

I turned to Cyrus in the doorway. "Were the cleaners here today?"

He shook his head. "They come tomorrow."

I kept the rest of my questions bottled, not wanting to scare Naya when I faced her, stubbornly keeping my face neutral.

"The latch was probably loose and the wind opened it," I decided for both our sakes.

She nodded, not looking worried. "Probably."

I leaned in and kissed her between the brows before starting for Cyrus.

"You have five minutes," I told her over my shoulder and heard her laugh.

"Fifteen."

I stopped at the door and planted a hand on the knob. My gaze lifted to where she stood in her white dress, hair a golden wave around her shoulders, her face soft and pink from the chill.

I sucked in a breath. I couldn't help it.

"Ten." I countered, giving her a grin before shutting the door. I turned to the dark, irritating figure waiting behind me. "Someone better be dead or on fire," I growled low under my breath as I faced him.

In true Cyrus fashion, he gave no sign he was worried, but I knew the hard tilt in his lips. The set fury in his eyes was not because of me.

"Ronin is here," he muttered, and I cursed.

"What the fuck does he want?"

Cyrus fell into step alongside me as I started towards the stairs.

He couldn't possibly know about Naya. We just got married less than two hours ago and Ronin was not that connected. Not unless someone in my house told him, which was impossible because my people were paid and paid very well to keep their mouths shut. So, it had to be something else. Some other bullshit reason.

Maybe he needed more money.

Maybe he wanted to see what my progress was so he could start getting sale quotes for the house.

Whatever the case, he would be leaving. Even if it wound up being in a body bag.

Someone — most likely Cyrus — had put my cousin in the dining room. A good choice. There was nothing in there for him to pocket. Yet, he was eyeing a fourteenth century painting along the back wall when I entered. I watched him nudge the corner to see if it would come off the wall. It wouldn't. All the portraits in the house were bolted down to keep them from falling.

"Why are you here?" I said, my voice echoing through the space and making the other man jump.

He whirled to face me. Guilt a purple bruise on his face. The stench of a rotting horse corpse in the hot July sun smacked into me, making my eyes burn.

Christ. What the fuck had he gotten himself into?

"I've been waiting for over an hour," he barked, getting a hold of himself.

I stayed by the door, partially because of the smell, partially because I was already ready to leave. "Why are you here, Ronin?" I said again.

I felt Vance's arrival when he bumped into my shoulder in his haste. I didn't look at him. My assumption was that he'd been in the office and was alerted to the rat in the house and had hurried over.

Ronin straightened the black and green windbreaker he must have dug out of the city dump judging from the number of questionable stains and the tear in the seam over his right arm.

"You have two weeks," he practically panted.

He was sweating. Straggly strands of hair was pasted to his temples and beads of it clung to his brow. I'd seen my share of strung-out junkies in my line of work, but this wasn't drugs. He wasn't jonesing for a hit. Despite the tremors keeping his balled hands unsteady at his sides and the muscle in his jaw flexing like a heartbeat, his eyes were clear. His stance angry, but not erratic.

"You're out of time," he yelled as if I was working his last nerve. "You should stop fucking around and give up."

I kept my hands tucked in my pockets, my posture relaxed, but I was ready if he decided to do something stupid; the will said nothing suspicious could happen before I was married. If he was shot after, that was just family business.

"No one is going to marry you, Thoran. It's too late. You're ... you're embarrassing yourself."

I wondered what he would do if I just turned and walked out. The thought of the look on his face amused me, but it would cause trouble that may draw Naya down and I didn't want that. She didn't need to watch me kill another man in front of her.

"You should leave," I told my cousin. "Pay off whatever bookie you owe and get your shit straight."

His Adam's apple bobbed. "Typical. So high and mighty from your glass house. Not everyone had everything handed to them."

I was beginning to think maybe there were drugs involved if he believed that. Sure, I was the son of the eldest son so I inherited the bulk of the business, but I built my own, too. I didn't gamble it all away. I owned multiple successful clubs, apartment buildings, and a couple of casinos he'd been banned from because he owed the house — me — thousands of dollars. If I were anyone else, I would have already had his kneecaps shattered, but I let it go. But to stand there and accuse me of having it better because I wasn't careless was both hilarious and insulting.

"Go home, Ronin," I said again, my impatience unmistakable in the command. "Don't come back. Forget where I live. Forget this house. You will no longer be permitted onto the property."

Several hues of shock and fury coursed over his unshaven face. An array of colors ranging from purple to red in rapid succession that matched the thrum of rage in the bulging vein at his throat.

"You can't keep me out. This is my family home, too! I'm a Lacroix just like you. This was my dad's house, too."

It was our grandfather's house until my father inherited it. Uncle Byron had left his portion of the inheritance to Ronin who squandered it. There was nothing else.

But I said nothing because I was done. I had a wife waiting for me upstairs and a night I was too excited to start to let this fucker ruin it.

I started to turn away.

"Don't you turn your back on me, Thoran!" Ronin snarled.

I felt Cyrus edge closer to my side, making me think Ronin had started forward.

Sure enough, when I glanced back, he and his smell were much closer.

"I will be back here in two weeks with my lawyers, and I will have you and your thugs thrown out—"

The soft click of heels on marble silenced even Ronin's tirade. All our eyes turned just as Naya appeared at the end of the corridor, still in her pretty dress. Her eyes met mine and all my annoyance washed away.

"Hi," she said, moving forward somewhat hesitantly. "I'm sorry. I know you said to wait, but I needed some help with my zipper..." she trailed off when her attention slid to the small cluster of people gathered around the front of the dining room doors. "Did I come at a bad time?"

There was a bad joke in there somewhere, but her timing couldn't have been better.

I held out my hand and she took it without hesitation. I pulled her to me.

"Ronin, meet my wife," I said softly, peering down into her face. "Naya Lacroix."

Ronin wasn't moving when I turned to him. His gaze was on Naya like he'd seen a ghost. The dark blotches of red in his face had dissolved to white.

"Wife?" he muttered at last.

"We were married this morning," I said.

The crimson stain spread up his neck, matching the veins across his white knuckled fists.

Naya glanced from me to my cousin, her expression apprehensive, but she offered him a small smile. "It's nice to meet you."

Ronin wasn't listening. He had narrowed his eyes on her like she was personally responsible for his fucked-up life.

My arms tightened around her. My body braced to get between them if he even thought about getting to her.

"You got married?" Ronin said at last. His gaze shot between me and Naya. "How? I didn't hear anything. Who even is she?" He looked Naya over with a visible curl to his lips. "An escort?"

Cyrus got to him before I could. He grabbed Ronin by the jacket front and yanked him out into the halls. He shoved him towards the front of the house. Ronin staggered, nearly hit the floor, but he scrambled up and whirled, finger jabbing.

"You put the family name in the hands of some whore?" he roared. His voice echoed through the hall. "You're going to die," he snarled at Naya who flinched into my side and stared at him with wide eyes and I finally understood what seeing red meant. "Just like the others. You're going to die here so I hope he paid you enough—"

I hit him.

I had no recollection of moving, but I had the fucker by the throat. My free hand sang with the delicious sound of bones shattering. His nose. His jaw. His blood burned hot on my skin and soaked into my clothes. I made him swallow his teeth and choke on his blood as I took him to the edge of death but gave him no mercy.

"If you ever talk to my wife like that again, I will cover your dick in honey and tie you to a tree in the forest," I snarled into his mangled face. "This is the last favor I will do for you as family. I will let you leave this place, but if you ever come back, no one will ever find your body."

I released him.

He slumped across the floor in a bloody heap, barely conscious.

Cyrus took my place when I moved back. He grabbed the back of Ronin's collar and dragged him down the hall.

Breathing hard, I turned to Vance ... and Naya. The latter stared at me with an expression I couldn't decipher, and I felt something in my gut dip. I became too aware of the blood soaking my wedding clothes. The gashes on my burning knuckles open for a second time in mere days. The body that was literally dragged away in front of her.

Fuck.

"Blue..." I started, not sure what to say to calm the horror and terror she must have been feeling.

Wordlessly, she stepped forward. Her heels a methodical click on the marble matching my heartbeat. Her pale eyes never left mine as she reached out and took my blood-stained hand. The look in her eyes ... I didn't understand it but, God, it made my cock hard.

"Let's go upstairs," she said softly.