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I stand in the shadow of the velvet curtain, keeping out of sight. Declan gives a booming welcome to their guests, and a hush descends on the room. I hadn’t realized how loud the murmuring had been, how large the crowd must be, until the deathly silence.

Declan and Orla deliver their speech together, like the perfect couple they are. They’ve always amazed me. Even when my family was whole, my mam and da weren’t in sync like that. They loved each other deeply, but they were individual people. Liam’s parents are a single unit.

Declan thanks all of their guests for coming, and dwells on the importance of togetherness, as well as the peace that togetherness brings. Orla flows seamlessly into talk of family, then Liam in particular. And me. My heart beats in my throat as she turns to me, her arm outstretched.

“We’re so proud to celebrate our beloved neighbor, and now soon-to-be daughter-in-law, Brioni Rose Timmons.”

I step out onto the balcony, and there’s a roar of applause, so loud my knees shake. I make it across the balcony to Orla, and she kisses me on the cheek. Then I’m walking down the wide, curving stairs.

In full view of everyone.

I have a death grip on the marble banister as I descend one step, then another. The expanse of faces below brings me no comfort. I love the hubbub of crowds, but not when all of the silent attention is trained on me.

My eyes find Liam at the bottom of the stairs, and my lungs expand. He looks exquisite in his tux, his emerald gaze fixed on me. Delicate chiffon glides against my legs as I approach him. My dress was made for this moment.

The crowd gives my fiancé a polite berth as he waits. When the gap between us narrows to a few steps, he lifts his hand, and I take it. After the cold banister, his palm is warm. Welcoming and safe.

The string octet starts up, and the guests step back from the ballroom’s dance floor. They cluster along the edges like a trellis wall, the secret garden inside just for me and Liam.

He leads me into a simple waltz, holding me so close that we’re moving as one, our bodies flowing in sync. It reminds me of how we used to run together along the lakeshore, when we’d match each other stride for stride. Suddenly I’m in the glorious daze of a runner’s high. I’m aware that I’m moving, but I feel pinned in place by Liam’s gaze, the intensity of his eyes so close to mine. I can’t look away. The ballroom around us fades, and all that exists is me and my fiancé, his firm hand on my lower back as he guides us through our dance.

When he breaks our eye contact, it’s to lean even closer to me, pulling me cheek to cheek. The scent of his aftershave washes over me, the feel of his skin against mine as hot as an open flame. Pressed together like this, he whispers directly into my ear.

“That dress looks so good on you I’m jealous of everyone in this room,” he says, and I shiver. There’s an undercurrent of threat to his words, like he wants to punish each person here for daring to look at me. He’s capable of it, too.

Liam’s physical closeness is what’s keeping me safe. Not just from Harrison, but from all the enemies gathered around us, populating this crowded ballroom. Distantly, I register that other couples have also started to dance. Colorful swirls blur at the edges of my vision, and in the center, my fiancé’s adoring face.

I can’t tell if he’s acting anymore. Not after our private kiss.

My mind was so muddled that I went to confession the next day. Confession always clears my head, lifts the guilt from my shoulders. Except, I didn’t confess to my lust for Liam. I confessed to my general deceit, but when it came time to mention Liam and what we’d done, I couldn’t.

I want Liam. I’ve spent decades denying that fact, aware of how attractive he is, but refusing to acknowledge how deep my attraction runs. I crave him. And not in a way I can confess to. My need for him isn’t surface-level, a fleeting sin to be forgiven. I feel it in my marrow. Wanting Liam is ingrained in who I am, and I can’t feel guilty for it.

As we dance, the heat between us grows. My body understood before my mind did. The way he’s possessing me right now is what I’ve always wanted. He whirls me around the ballroom, showing me off as his.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Brady’s standing beside us. I hadn’t even noticed him. “We should go,” he says to Liam, jerking his head toward the open double doors. A handful of other men in tuxes are filing out, along with Cora and Orla.

There’s mafia business to handle. A discussion of peace and alliances, if I interpreted Declan’s speech correctly.

“I’m sorry, Brioni.” Liam kisses me, but it’s too fleeting for my body to react. “This may take a bit.”

I nod my understanding as my arms drop to my sides. Liam falls into step with Brady, and then they’re both disappearing out of the ballroom. My heart sinks at my uselessness. I’ll never be like Cora, or Orla. I’m a seamstress and a youth group instructor. I don’t belong at the mafia table. It’ll be a stronger woman than me at Liam’s side after this.

“It’s okay, I didn’t get invited either.” Kieran’s at my elbow. The youngest O’Sullivan brother is still in high school, and he’s the gentlest one of the bunch.

Like me, he’s excluded from all things dangerous.

“Would you like to dance?” he asks with a gallant bow.

“I’d love to.” I drop into a curtsy before taking his proffered hand.

He’s significantly shorter than I am, making us clumsy at first. But with the slow classical music, we eventually fall into a comfortable sway, if not quite a proper waltz. When I tell him how handsome he looks in his tux, he blushes.

“Did you see Seven’s date?” he asks, changing the subject.

My stomach goes cold, but I do my best to hide my dread. The O’Sullivans’ greatest enemy is here at this party, doing ordinary things like bringing a date. When really, he’s extraordinarily dangerous. The biggest threat to us all, according to Liam.

“Look over my left shoulder.” Kieran turns us slightly. “Black dress. Standing by the violins.”