Bride by Initiation: Secret Society Mafia Marriage Pact (The Underworld Book 1)
Bride by Initiation: Chapter 13

Hours pass and I have no idea where we’re going. Byrne took my phone and locked it in a cabinet. He’s dozed on and off since then, snoring loudly.

All I can seem to do is pace the plane, wondering how to enter The Underworld without taking a bride.

There’s no way I’m getting married.

The flight attendant steps through the curtain. ‘We’re about to land. I’m going to need you to take your seat now.’

My pulse increases. I’m one step closer to learning more about The Underworld and getting answers about my dad.

I sit down in a seat across the aisle from Byrne, ordering, ‘Wake up.’

He blinks a few times, then stares at me as the wheels lower, stating, ‘Oh, good. We’re almost there.’

‘Where exactly are we?’ I question.

He gives me the same look whenever I ask most questions. ‘I can’t tell you that, lad.‘

‘Of course you can’t,’ I retort, sulking in the chair and adding, ‘It’s getting old, not being told things.’

‘Don’t worry. You’ll know everything soon enough.’

‘You said my father created The Underworld?’

‘Aye, he did,’ Byrne says with pride sweeping across his expression.

‘Then I should be privy to everything,’ I declare.

He snorts. ‘Your father wasn’t into entitlement. I’m pretty sure you know that already.’

My gut sinks. I’m not into entitlement either, but I’m over the secrecy.

Byrne says, ‘Once you choose your bride, things will start to come to light.’

I chuckle.

He tilts his head. ‘What’s so funny?’

‘There’s no way my father would do anything like this. The crazier this gets, the more I’m convinced he didn’t have anything to do with this Underworld, whatever it is.’

Byrne’s eyes turn to slits. ‘Don’t disrespect your father. There are reasons he created The Underworld the way he did.’

I scoff. ‘There’s no way he’d want me to walk into a room and marry a stranger. I⁠—’

‘He did. And he thought ahead. Years ahead. Why do you think I’m telling you to pick the redhead?’

My heart beats faster. ‘What are you saying? And be clear. Don’t speak in your riddles,’ I warn.

The plane makes contact with the ground, and the pilot applies the brakes. We slide across the runway.

I demand, ‘Answer my question.‘

As the plane rolls to a stop, the flight attendant gets up and moves the curtain.

Byrne waves his hand at her.

She shuts it again and disappears.

He slowly rises and sternly gazes down at me. ‘It’s part of your birthright to marry the redhead. And, yeah, your father knew about it. He set it all in motion, so don’t fuck it up today,’ he threatens and then walks to the curtain and opens it.

My pulse pounds through my veins.

Is it true?

Did my father pick this redhead for me to marry?

Why would he do that?

It’s not uncommon in crime families to have arranged marriages, but there’s always a reason for it. So I want to know why.

Byrne turns. ‘Lad, are you coming, or are you going to sit there all day?’

I get up and follow him off the plane. Everything’s dark. I can’t tell if it’s night or day. The flickering of candles against the wall is the only way to see. Once we’re far from the flight attendant, I ask, ‘Why would my father arrange for me to marry this redhead?’

He stops walking and crosses his arms over his chest. ‘You ask a lot of questions.’

‘Should I not?’

He leers at me.

‘I want to know,’ I insist.

‘Alliances were made so everyone could live harmoniously.’

I huff. ‘Jesus. Not more riddles.‘

‘That’s all you’re getting from me now,’ he adds, continuing down the hall.

Frustrated, I follow him, not seeing any other choice.

Byrne finally opens a door, and when I step inside, I freeze.

It’s a plush locker room. There’s a shower and a bathroom, a vanity with toiletries, and some overstuffed furniture.

I ask, ‘Why am I here?’

‘You have thirty minutes. Take a shower, shave, and put on the clothes in the closet. I’ll meet you back here,’ he answers.

I don’t move.

‘You don’t have time to dawdle,’ he instructs and then leaves.

I glance around the room, taking it in again, and for some reason, I do what he said. I get undressed and shower. I shave. I use the toiletries, brush my teeth, and comb my hair. Then, I pick up the same brand of cologne I normally wear, and spray it over me.

I step over to the closet, open it up, and the hairs on my neck rise. The only outfit in it is a black tuxedo. There’s a white shirt, a black bow tie, cummerbund, underwear, socks, and shiny leather shoes.

A debate about whether to get dressed plays out in my head. I decide this is insane, and that it would be best if I don’t put it on and give anyone the notion I’m getting married.

I turn to replace my clothes but realize they’re gone. Someone must have come in and taken them when I was in the shower.

‘Fuck’s sake,’ I mutter, and realize I have no option but to put the tuxedo on. I get dressed and pace the room, wondering what comes next.

Byrne walks in with a large wooden box. An image of the skull is burned into the lid, and I notice he has the brand with the same pink in it my father had. It’s in the same spot as my father’s and John’s.

He beams at me. ‘Aye, look at you, lad. Your father would be proud.’

‘Stop talking about my father that way,’ I state, not wanting to feel the turmoil in my stomach. I don’t think I’ll ever get married. Like Zara stated, I get too bored with women. But the thought that my father would miss my wedding, should I have one, still stings after all these years.

Byrne scowls. ‘You need a better attitude before you go in there.’

I stare at the ceiling and sigh.

‘Come sit down, lad,’ he directs, and sits on the couch.

I follow him, figuring I should engage in the motions, and plop down on the other side.

‘Now, this is an important decision. It’s forever,’ he starts.

My chest tightens.

He opens the box, revealing a dozen stunning rings in various shapes. Pear, princess, emerald, marquise, Asscher, radiant, heart, round, oval, and cushion cut diamonds shine in the dim light. Different plain metal bands of white gold, yellow gold, rose gold, and platinum are nestled on the bottom row.

I shift in my seat.

He’s actually serious.

He thinks I’m getting married today.

‘What is this?’ I question, but I don’t need to.

‘You have to pick the ring, son. Which one’s it going to be?’

I stare at the rings.

He picks up a pear-shaped one. ‘May I suggest this? The redhead loves pear-shaped diamonds.’

‘No,’ I state.

He wrinkles his forehead. ‘Why? What’s wrong with it?’

I shake my head. ‘I don’t know. I don’t like it.’

‘Why don’t you like it?’

‘I don’t know, but I don’t.’

‘Happy wife makes a happy life. I highly suggest you take the pear one,’ he pushes.

‘No. I’m not looking at that forever,’ I insist, then wonder what the hell I’m saying.

I’m not getting married.

Byrne sighs. ‘Well, you’ve got to pick one, son. It’d be better that your bride likes it.’

I grunt and then pick up a radiant cut diamond. It’s not a square. It’s more of a rectangle of at least four karats.

He whistles. ‘That’s a big ring. She’s got petite hands. I don’t think that’s going to look very good on her. It’s going to be overpowering on her slender finger.’

I shrug. ‘So what?’

He glances at the box and then picks up a smaller Asscher cut option. ‘This might be better since it’s more of a square, but it’s still similar to the radiant.’

I shake my head and then rise. ‘Nope. It’s the radiant.’ I go to put it in my pocket.

‘Wait.’

I glance at him. He holds his hand out. ‘Give me the diamond.‘

‘I thought I had to take it with me,’ I say, telling myself I’m just playing his game.

‘No. We’ll bring you one in her size when the time comes to say your vows.’

Vows.

My stomach flips.

‘Come on. I don’t have all day,’ he says, impatiently bending his fingers.

I hand him the ring, and he puts it in the box and shuts it.

I stare at the box. ‘You seriously just have a ton of rings sitting around for twelve women?’

He nods, his face serious. ‘Aye, we know all their sizes. We make sure we have everything prepared for tonight. It’s a special night, and it only happens when there’s a full moon, so it’s special for many reasons.’

‘What does the full moon have to do with it?’ I question.

Nostalgia lights up his expression. ‘Your dad loved full moons.’

That feeling in the pit of my stomach claws at me again. I grind my molars.

Byrne looks at his watch. Excitement grows on his face and matches his voice. ‘It’s time. Now, look for the redhead as soon as you enter the room. Make sure you convince her. She has to choose you as well.’

‘What if I want another one?’ I ask, not that I’m going to go through with this crazy charade.

Byrne’s eyes turn to slits. ‘You can’t choose another one. The redhead is the one.’

‘But what if someone else catches my eye?‘

His tone turns stern. ‘They won’t. It’s meant to be the redhead. Your father already promised you. This is your destiny.’

‘Promised me to whom?’

‘To her parents. And they promised your father she was to be yours.’

‘What about my mother?’ I question.

He gives me more of his silent treatment.

I scowl.

He offers, ‘I won’t have to stay silent forever, son.’

If anyone else called me son, I’d tell them not to. I don’t know why I don’t with him, but I let it go.

He pats my shoulder. ‘Come on now. It’s time.’

Part of me wants to turn, leave, and not go any further with this debacle, but I still want inside The Underworld. If this was my father’s secret world, then I’m supposed to be part of it. I’m sure of it.

And I want to replace out everything he had planned. I know there’s a reason for it. He couldn’t see it through, but surely I’m supposed to if it was his doing?

But I’m not marrying anyone, especially this redhead, whoever she is. And I don’t care about her parents either.

Byrne leads me down more dark hallways and then when we turn the corner of the last one, I hear music with deep drum rolls. Something about it is terrorizing. It’s so strong it sends a shudder down my spine.

He gets to the door, puts his hand on the handle, and glances up at me, warning, ‘Make sure you choose the redhead.’

I don’t reply.

He opens the door and motions for me to step inside.

I take three steps and freeze.

We’re somewhere outside. It’s warm, and we’re in a huge arena. The sky’s clear, dotted with stars and a full moon, but it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It’s as if I can reach up and touch it.

Just like at the underground fight, people are everywhere. This time, it’s not chaotic, though. The men wear tuxedos and skull masks. The masks are the same design as the brand.

Women wear pink from head to toe. The gem-encrusted eye masks are similar to the one lady at the fight wore. Their strapless evening gowns dip low in the front, have low backs, and slits to their upper thighs. Their stilettos have diamond-encrusted heels.

The crowd stands shoulder to shoulder, like at a sold-out event. The women hold candles. The men hold long wooden torches with flames burning toward the sky. A pink carpet stretches down all the aisles, leading to a huge stage.

Twelve women stand in a row, turned away from the crowd. They wear white, lacy lingerie. There’s a long train attached to their ‘dress,’ and veils cover their faces.

‘It’s time to go, son. Whatever you do, don’t be the one without a bride,’ Byrne warns, pointing to the stage.

My heart beats faster, as if in tune with the drums. I move forward, and as I get closer, I realize other men are walking down the other aisles toward the stage.

My pulse skyrockets. I count twelve of them, and Byrne’s warning screams in my head. It sets in that one of us will receive a bad consequence, and I don’t know what it’ll be, but I don’t want to replace out.

I’m not marrying one of these women.

But I don’t want to be at the tail end of their consequence.

Jesus. How do I get out of this?

I’ll pick a bride and replace a way not to marry her.

Will it even be real?

I’m sure it’s not a legal wedding.

What if it is?

My aisle ends. Thirteen pink X’s mark the ground at the edge of the stage, facing the crowd. A man directs me to the thirteenth one, and I take my spot, with my back to the women.

When all thirteen of us stand shoulder to shoulder, the music stops. A woman comes forward, in the same dress as the others, but her mask is adorned with diamonds instead of pink gems. I realize she’s the same woman from the fight.

The crowd chants, ‘Valentina! Valentina! Valentina!’

She throws her hand in the air, and the arena turns silent. She roars, ‘We have thirteen men tonight. One will not have a bride.’

Ear-deafening cheers explode around me. Everything about it makes my blood turn cold. Their excitement reminds me of the underground fight and how they cheered when men died.

Byrne’s warning plays over and over in my mind.

Valentina silences the crowd and explains, ‘Here’s how it’s going to work.’ She walks down the line of men, running her gaze from the top of our heads to our feet and back up before going on to the next one. When she gets to me, she stops longer than she did with the others.

I hold her gaze, wondering what she’s thinking.

She reaches up and puts her hand on my cheek.

A wave of coldness flies down my jaw, through my neck, and into my heart. I clench my jaw.

Her lips twitch. ‘Ah, you came to take your rightful place, but there’s no seat at the table for free. Your dad didn’t agree with anyone not earning their spot.‘

A claw scrapes into my gut. I wish everyone would stop talking about my father. I hate how they all seem to know more about him than I do.

Yet he’s the reason I’m here. I might not understand this world, but I’m determined to get to the place where everything makes sense.

Valentina smirks. ‘I assume you were told who you will choose?’

I stand taller, staring at her, not answering. If I speak, then I’m telling her to go fuck herself. I’m not marrying anyone. And I don’t think this is the right moment for that conversation.

She laughs. ‘Ah, I see. Okay then. Let the games begin.’ She walks back and forth a few more times, past every man, closely studying them. Then she steps back in front of me and turns to the crowd, tossing her arms in the air and shouting, ‘Who’s ready for the ceremony to begin?’

The crowd stomps in unison until it’s so loud my ears ring with the beat. The dark music slowly starts again.

Valentina spins toward us and silences the crowd. She informs us, ‘You have two minutes to convince your bride that she should choose you. If she doesn’t, you’re out. If there’s more than one man standing, they’re all out. If a bride doesn’t choose a groom, she will escape her vows until a later date. At that point, we will choose one for her.’

Horror fills me. I don’t understand how my father would ever condone this.

Valentina booms, ‘I pity those of you who can’t secure your bride.’

A horn blows, and there’s a moment where everything goes still.

She looks at her watch. ‘Time’s ticking, boys.’

Suddenly, everyone understands. Chaos erupts, and men run over to the women. Several of them talk over the other. A few take the brides and move them forward.

I replace the redhead. She’s stunning, with shiny hair to her mid-back, porcelain skin, a pouty mouth, and bright green eyes. I almost step in front of her but then freeze.

What is she doing here?

My heart races, my pulse pounds between my ears, and my mouth turns dry.

It can’t be her.

It is.

Another man tries to convince Zara to marry him. I take a step toward them, and the redhead grabs my wrist.

I glance at her.

In a thick Irish accent, she frets, ‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m sorry. I can’t,’ I reply, shaking out of her grasp, then rush over to Zara. I bark, ‘What are you doing here?’

She tears her eyes off the man, and her face fills with shock. ‘Sean?’

Maybe I should have expected her to be here, knowing she had something to do with The Underworld, even though she wouldn’t tell me what.

She would never agree to this.

Would she give herself to a stranger under these terms?

The man beside her says, ‘I don’t know who this guy is, but I’m choosing you. I’m asking for you to choose me back.’

She turns toward him and opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.

‘Get the fuck out of here,’ I bark at him.

He scowls at me, and I get an eerie feeling. There’s something familiar about him.

‘She’s my chosen one,’ he declares and then looks at her. ‘I’m the one you studied the most, aren’t I?’

Jesus. He was in her binder.

‘I said to fuck off,’ I demand.

‘I’m your chosen one, and you know it. Now, take my hand,’ he orders, holding his out toward her.

Zara gazes at it and then back at me.

The bell rings. I glance around us and realize that the others are all paired up. We’re the only three left.

The crowd’s deafening roars get louder until Valentina steps forward and puts her hand in the air. Silence fills the arena.

She glares at me, snarling, ‘You did not choose the redhead.’

‘No. I choose Zara,’ I declare.

She snaps, ‘That is not in the cards for you. I will give you one more chance. Choose wisely.’