The Wedding Pact (The O'Malleys #2)(39)

“I got my point across.” She just wished she’d hit him again. Or kicked him while he was down. Her shoulders tightened at the memory of him shoving her against the wall. “He’s a fool, so I doubt it had any lasting effect, but he won’t be touching me again.”

“Good.” Aileen hesitated and then went back to straightening pictures. “You’ll let me know if you need to take further actions.”

Even if she didn’t, her mother would find out anyway. She might not be as flashy about it, but Aileen had as many—if not more—people reporting to her as Seamus did. “Of course.”

“Good. Now that that’s taken care of, show me this list of your father’s.”

She handed it over because there really was no other option. Besides, even though her mother was as willing to sell her off as her father was, at least Aileen would take more factors into account than just his potential alley value. I should have asked her before going out with Chauncey. The realization had her straightening her spine. She’d made a mistake. Maybe this would help her to keep from repeating it.

I don’t want any of them, though. There’s no way they can make me feel as good as James does.

She shut that thought down real fast. But it was no use. It wormed its way into the back of her brain, its presence small but nagging all the same. It didn’t matter how good the sex was with James, or how he never seemed to react the way she expected during their conversations. Even if she’d been willing to consider…anything…with him, it was a moot point.

He wasn’t on the list.

End of story.

Aileen picked up the paper, a tiny line appearing between her brows as she looked it over. “Take both the Marrow boy and Atcherberg off the list. I can’t believe your father would stoop so low.” Her green eyes flashed. “Marrow just buried his third wife. And Atcherberg has a gambling problem that is already beggaring his family.”

She didn’t ask how her mother knew these things. There was no point when she was, in all reality, most likely right. Carrigan fought back a sigh. “Then my potential list is down from six to three.” After today it would shrink even further. She looked at her mother, all the things she couldn’t say pressed against the inside of her lips. Please don’t make me do this. Please don’t make me marry some stranger to further the family’s interests. Please, please, please. It was a little girl’s cry into the dark, begging the monster not to be real.

If Aileen saw what she was thinking—and the way she pressed her lips together said she sure as hell did—she ignored it. She set the list back on Carrigan’s bed. “That will make things simpler. Now, this wasn’t why I came looking for you.” She straightened and smoothed her hands over her perfectly pressed green dress. “You haven’t been in to get the final fitting for your bridesmaid’s dress yet.”

The wedding. Of course. She should have known it wasn’t concern for her well-being that had her mother searching her out. These days everything seemed to boil down to Teague and Callie’s wedding. “I’m surprised you need me in there at all. Don’t you know our measurements by heart?”

“Carrigan, don’t be cheeky. The wedding is a little over a week away. Make it a priority. I won’t have you in an ill-fitting dress.”

Since the wedding was more about what her mother wanted than what Callie wanted, she’d take it as a personal insult if Carrigan didn’t do exactly as instructed. She glanced at the clock beside her bed. “It’ll have to be this afternoon, then.” She’d take care of it after her date with Dmitri.

“See that it is.” Aileen nodded, turned on her heel, and marched out of the room. Probably off to terrify one of Carrigan’s other siblings. They all loved their mother, but she was almost scarier than their father was. She never seemed to be involved with his darker decisions, but anyone who believed that wasn’t looking hard enough. She might not take part in the business publicly, but she stood as their father’s partner in every way that counted.

Carrigan pushed to her feet and headed to get ready. She’d barely started her makeup process when her treacherous mind wandered back to James. What had he been up to this week? Was he grinning and feeling superior because he got what every man seemed to want from her? She shook her head. No, that wasn’t James. Maybe she was naive, but very little he’d done to date could be grouped in with “other men.” He played by rules that she didn’t understand, and when he looked at her with those blue eyes, she was tempted to throw caution to the wind and do whatever it took to spend a few more hours in his bed. Which would be a nice change of pace, because they hadn’t actually made it to a bed yet.