Bride by Initiation: Secret Society Mafia Marriage Pact (The Underworld Book 1)
Bride by Initiation: Chapter 3

Zara’s face pales, and her breaths come shorter and faster. There’s no doubt she’s seen the skull before too.

I wish I could place where I’ve seen the mark before. It’s as if it’s right there in my brain, teasing me, but I can’t figure it out.

I demand, ‘Tell me what you know about it.’

Zara shakes her head. ‘I have nothing to tell you. I saw it on John’s hand. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen it.’

‘You’re lying,’ I declare.

‘I’m not, and don’t call me a liar.’

‘But you knew what I meant when I mentioned the skull.”

‘You were just talking to John outside. Yes, I know he has a skull tattoo. It’s pretty obvious what you’re referring to,’ she argues.

‘It’s not a tattoo. It’s a brand,’ I inform her.

She shrugs. ‘Whatever it is, I don’t know any more than you do.’

I seethe, ‘Tell me who John Smith is, Zara.‘

‘I’ve told you everything I know.’

‘Stop lying to me,’ I growl.

She glares at me and then jabs my chest, retorting, ‘Stop accusing me of things. I’m telling you the truth.’

‘But you’re not telling me everything, are you?’

She shuts her mouth and then turns toward the window.

I study her for several breaths, then soften my tone, asking, ‘What are you keeping from me?’

She spins back to face me. ‘I’ve told you all that I can tell you. But what did John tell you? Why don’t you share that information with me?’

‘Nothing,’ I reply.

She tilts her head, glaring at me. ‘So I’m supposed to believe you when you claim he told you nothing, but you don’t believe me that I don’t know anything about the skull or more information about John?’

I cross my arms and sit back. ‘Yeah. You’re the one who was being all secretive. There’s more going on between you and John. So whatever it is, spill it. That man is not someone you should be associating with.’

She scoffs. ‘How do you know? What did he do for you to make such a statement?’

‘All I had to do was look at him from across the pub,’ I blurt out.

She smirks. ‘So this is a jealousy thing?’

‘Don’t go there with me, Zara. Not about him!’

‘But I should go there with you about other guys?’

‘Stop twisting this situation,’ I scold.

‘Look, Sean, I don’t know anything.’ She points at the door. ‘Are you going to open that and let me out, or do I have to exit on my side?‘

I stare at her for a moment.

‘Fine. I guess I’ll get out on this side,’ she declares, reaching for the door.

‘Don’t you dare!’

She freezes and then slowly refocuses on me with her pouty lips and challenging stare.

I reprimand, ‘You know better than to get out on that side of the car. It’s not the safest option. Your father would be livid.’

‘Well, I’ll inform my father you didn’t leave me much of a choice when your driver or you rat me out,’ she snaps.

‘I wouldn’t rat you out.’

‘Wouldn’t you?’

‘Have I ever?’

Her blue flames singe hotter in my direction.

I release a long breath and open my door. I exit and then reach back inside for her, but she ignores me, getting out alone and brushing past me into her building.

I follow her.

We step past the doorman, and she chirps, ‘Thanks for bringing me home. You can go now.’

‘I told your father I’d walk you to your apartment.’

She sarcastically huffs. ‘Yeah, like I need you to do that. I’m in a secure building. Bye!’ she says, waving, and then pushes the elevator button.

‘Stop being a brat.’

‘Stop being a dictator.‘

I step closer to her and put my arm around her waist, gripping it firmly.

She tilts her head, looking up at me and fuming. ‘Really, Sean? Honestly, you can go now.’

‘Wouldn’t you like that,’ I say.

The elevator opens. Nobody’s on it. Zara steps in, answering, ‘Yeah, I would.’

‘No, you wouldn’t,’ I declare, stepping beside her and pushing the button for the eighth floor.

The elevator doors shut, and we ride up in silence, with the tension growing between us.

Zara’s stubborn, but I don’t care what I have to do. I will replace out what she’s hiding from me about this John Smith guy.

The elevator stops, and the doors open with a ding. She stomps out of the elevator, and I follow. She gets to her apartment door and pulls out her key.

She quickly glances at me, waving again. ‘Bye! Time to go.’

I stay planted.

She opens the door and tries to get in and shut it before I can enter, but I push it open farther and step in behind her.

‘I didn’t invite you in, Sean,’ she states.

I shut the door, announcing, ‘I’m not leaving until you tell me what you’re hiding.’

‘Once again, I’m not hiding anything,’ she says, tossing her keys and purse on the table, and then saunters toward her bedroom.

‘There is,’ I insist.

‘No, there’s not. Now, get out of my apartment.‘

‘No.’

She spins on me. ‘This isn’t okay. I told you to get out, and I mean it. I won’t have you sit here and grill me all night in my own house. Now, my father told you to walk me to my door, and you have. Thank you very much. You can leave.’ She crosses her arms and glares daggers at me.

I don’t flinch.

‘You’re not going to learn anything here tonight, Sean. Please leave,’ she says in a softer tone.

‘Zara, why was that man in the pub?’

She shakes her head. ‘Don’t know.’ She turns and steps into her bedroom.

I follow her.

She unzips her dress, and it slides down her body, revealing her purple bra and thong.

I freeze. My cock hardens to the point it hurts. My voice cracks, ‘Goddammit. What are you doing?’

She glances behind her and tosses me a suggestive glance. ‘I’m getting ready for bed. What are you doing?’

My mouth goes dry.

Her expression turns stern. She continues, ‘Oh, you’re still in my apartment, even though I’ve told you to leave. Sorry you didn’t get the memo. Let me give it to you again. Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.’ She strolls across the room, removing her earrings and putting them in her jewelry box.

I stare at her ass, swallowing hard, and accidentally murmur, ‘Jesus Christ.‘

I’ve seen Zara in bikinis before, but never like this. I’ve never been alone in her bedroom, pissed off and needing to release some steam more than ever while she’s almost naked.

She reaches behind her, unclasps her bra, shimmies out of it, then crosses her arms over her chest. She turns to face me and arches her eyebrows. ‘Do you mind? It’s my bedroom, after all.’

My cock pulses against my zipper. I mumble, ‘Such a fucking brat.’

‘Are you looking to break our boundary or what?’ she questions with a smug expression.

I don’t say anything. I’m suddenly tongue-tied, staring at her hand, ready for her to drop it so her bra will fall to the floor.

‘Eyes up here, Sean,’ she practically sings, tearing me out of my trance.

‘Just tell me what you know,’ I roughly get out, trying to remember why I’m here.

‘No. Now, get out.’

I realize I’m dealing with the ultimate stubborn Zara. And it sucks. When she digs her heels in, there’s nothing I can make her do. It’s only happened a few times in our lives, but tonight, she’s not caving. So I grumble, ‘I’m coming back tomorrow, and we’re talking about this.’

She rubs her thumb above her cleavage, sweetly chirping, ‘Okay. I’ll make sure security knows not to let you up.’

My gaze wanders, and I huff. ‘Like you would.’

‘Test me, Sean,’ she threatens.

I drag my gaze down her body and then back up, where I stare into her eyes.

Her cheeks blush slightly, but she’s still as confident as any woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. The blood in my veins runs hotter.

Her challenging stare intensifies, as does her smirk.

I can’t help myself. My pulse bangs between my ears. I warn, ‘You’re being a bad girl, Zara.’

‘Oh?’ she taunts, arching her eyebrow again.

I lower my voice, cautioning, ‘Yeah. Don’t push me. I will put you over my knees and slap the shit out of your ass until my handprint is emblazoned on your skin for days.’

Her lips curve. ‘Gee, don’t tempt me, Sean. It’s not fair to tease a girl like that.’

I groan inside, trying not to salivate.

She points to the door. In a stern voice, she orders, ‘Out.’

I decide it’s best to leave before I do something I can’t take back. As I step out of her bedroom, I shake my head and remind her, ‘Make sure you lock the door after I leave.’

‘Don’t worry, Dad, I will,’ she sarcastically replies as she follows me to the door.

When I open it, I glance back, tempted once more to stay, to replace out anything except what she sounds like when my hand connects with her ass cheek or when she comes.

She stares at me, almost as if she wants me to play out my dirty thoughts, but I decide it’s all in my head. I warn, ‘I’m coming back tomorrow,’ then I step outside her apartment and shut the door. I ride down to the lobby in the elevator, leave the building, and return to my SUV.

I lower the glass between my driver, Conán, and me, directing, ‘Drive.’

He doesn’t ask questions. When I need to figure something out, he drives, and I think.

I roll the partition up and lean back, staring out the window, trying to forget about Zara and where I’ve seen the skull brand before tonight.

It’s clear as day, and I can see it on a man’s hand, but it’s not John’s. It’s in the same spot, too, but I can’t recall whose hand it is, even though it feels familiar.

The city lights flash past as we drive, and a few hours go by before things come together. I glance at my hand, make a fist, and turn it.

My stomach drops. The hand is familiar because it looks like mine. There’s only one other man who had hands like mine.

My father.

A series of flashbacks attack me to the point I feel nauseous.

I‘m seven, maybe eight, and I’m sparring with my dad. He grits his teeth whenever I hit the punching pad on his left hand. I don’t take a lot of notice because I’m young. But once we get out of the ring, he removes the pad, displaying bloody white gauze wrapped around his hand.

‘Stay here, Sean,’ he tells me, then enters the locker room and returns with a clean bandage.

By the time we get home, the red spot has returned.

My mom attempts to clean it up and stop the bleeding. She says, ‘This scab is nasty. Why did you feel the need to brand yourself instead of getting a tattoo like a normal person?’

Dad doesn’t answer.

My father’s hand is healed now. The skull with flowers is prominent against his skin, but there’s no color to it.

I’m a year older. The mark has become more detailed. The flowers now tattooed pink.

The following year, I’m getting home from school and Mom asks him, ‘When did you add the shades of gray and black?’

He replies, ‘It was time.’

I stand behind him and stare at it over his shoulder, unable to tear my eyes off it until he realizes I’m in the room. He rises, kisses me on the head, and says, ‘I’ll be home later tonight.’

Isqueeze my eyes shut, beating myself up.

How could I not have remembered?

It’s another thing I’ve blocked out.

It’s a recurring problem I have. After my dad died, I blocked out memories of him. It makes me feel guilty, but I don’t even know what I’ve forgotten until it reappears.

Why did I not want to remember his skull brand?

Anxiety and fear, along with a sense of urgency, plague me. I roll down the partition and bark, ‘Back to the party. Now.’

Conán does an illegal U-turn across the median and heads back to town.

Why would that guy have the same brand as my dad?

Maybe it’s a coincidence.

No, it’s not.

What was Dad involved in?

Conán weaves through traffic, exits the expressway, and within minutes, pulls up to the curb in front of O’Malley’s Pub.

I jump out and rush inside, glancing around the crowded bar. Only a few people have left, which doesn’t surprise me.

I finally spot my mom sitting with Dante, Aunt Brenna, and Uncle Finn. They’re laughing, and the table’s full of drinks.

I ignore people trying to talk to me as I push through the crowd.

Mom sees me first, and her face lights up. ‘Sean, you’re back.’

‘I need to talk to you,’ I assert.

Her face falls. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Not here. In private.’

Dante questions, ‘Everything okay?’

I don’t look at him. ‘Now, Mom.’

‘Okay,’ she says, and rises.

‘Sean, what’s going on?’ Uncle Finn asks.

Brenna gives me the same concerned look as Dante.

I shake my head. ‘Not now. I need to talk to my mom.’

‘Okay, honey.’ Worry fills her expression. ‘What’s going on?’

‘We have to talk,’ I repeat, putting my hand around her waist and guiding her toward the back, down the hallway, and into Nora’s office. I shut the door.

Mom frets, ‘Sean, please tell me what’s going on. You’re worrying me.’

I blurt out, ‘Why did Dad have a skull brand?’

Mom’s head jerks backward a bit and then she freezes. ‘I don’t know. Why are you asking?’

‘What was it for, Mom?’ I demand, harsher this time, my insides shaking. I’m on the verge of something, but I don’t know what.

She pins her eyebrows together. ‘Sean, I don’t know. It was just something he did. He used to draw it all the time on paper, even before we got married.‘

‘Why did he do that?’

‘I don’t know. He would doodle it all over the place. I always thought it was a cool design, but I never thought further about it. Then, one day, he came home. You were, I don’t know, maybe seven or eight, I don’t remember, but he came home with it branded on his hand.’

My chest tightens. ‘Why did he brand it and not tattoo it?’

She shrugs, and confusion fills her expression. ‘Honestly, Sean, I don’t know. I never understood why he didn’t just tattoo it.’

‘But then it was pink. I know that I saw pink on it. I was older, but I saw pink,’ I insist.

She nods. ‘Yeah, he added some pink to the flowers, and… I think, on some of the feathers. A year later, he went and had gray and black shadows added to it as well.’

‘Why?’ I push.

‘I don’t know,’ Mom claims.

I scrub my face. ‘Please, think.’

‘Why do you need to know this?’ she questions.

‘I just need to know,’ I answer.

She puts her hand on her hip. ‘There’s a reason you’re asking this, and I want to know what it is.’

‘I don’t know why. I just need to know,’ I insist.

She steps forward and puts her hand on my cheek. ‘Sean, if you’re getting yourself involved in something that your father was involved in, then I need you to tell me.’

I study her. ‘If you don’t know anything, why do you seem so worried?‘

‘I don’t know anything about whatever it is you’re seeking answers to. If I did, I promise I would tell you, but I don’t. That skull was just something your dad used to scribble on bar napkins, receipts, and any paper he had. I never thought anything of it besides the fact that he liked it. And I don’t know why he branded it on himself, but your dad was unpredictable in lots of ways.’

‘Mom, if there was ever a time for you to think hard, it’s now. I need to know what it represented.’

Horror fills her expression. ‘Sean, I want to know what’s going on.’

‘I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.’

Her voice shakes when she says, ‘I don’t know anything, but if you’re getting involved in something your father was involved in, something that might’ve been the reason he was murdered, please, I’m begging you, don’t.’

I take her hand and pull it off me. ‘Is this like how you never told us why you kept us from our family for so long?’

She squeezes her eyes shut. ‘Sean, please, let’s not open old wounds. I told you that I was threatened and had no choice. Your uncles confirmed that I had no choice. I thought I was forgiven and we were past this.’

Guilt hits me. Something horrible happened to my mom when Dad was murdered. I’ve never found out the truth, but she’s begged me to let it be, and my uncles also asked me to leave it alone. I know she feels guilty for keeping my sister and me from the O’Malleys for years, but she did what she had to do to protect us. So I reply, ‘I have forgiven you, but now I need to know why Dad had that brand, and I need you to tell me why.’

‘I don’t know!’ she shouts, tossing her hands in the air.

I step back.

She closes her eyes and softens her voice. When she opens them, they’re full of tears. ‘Sean, I’m telling you, I don’t know. I never thought anything of it. Honestly. I just thought it was a design your father loved. But please, tell me why you’re asking about it.’

I realize she’s telling the truth, and I don’t want to scare her, so I sigh and create a lie. ‘I don’t know. For some reason, I thought about it today. Then, I thought about how he added color and shading over the years. It struck me as odd, like there has to be some meaning behind it.’

‘It was just a piece of artwork he was obsessed over. Nothing more.’ She blinks hard, looking defeated.

Guilt hits me. I know she loves Dante with all her heart, but she’ll always love my father too. Losing him will always sting her. And I reopened that wound tonight.

She sadly states, ‘Sometimes we want something to have a reason behind it but there isn’t one. I’m sorry that skull has been haunting you all day, but I can assure you it was just an image your dad liked and decided to put on his body, just like the art you tattooed on your arm sleeve. Really, it was nothing more.’

Out of respect for my mom, and feeling remorseful that I brought up my dad while we’re at a party, I step forward and hug her, offering, ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you with this.’

She looks up, begging, ‘Sean, please promise me, if there’s a different reason you’re asking me this⁠—’

‘No, there’s not,’ I interject.

She stares at me.

I continue to fib. ‘Honestly, Mom, I just had some flashbacks of the skull on his hand. I’ve never thought about it before today. I forgot he had it, and it’s just… You know how I get when I block stuff out and then it comes rushing back.‘

A tear falls and she wipes it from under her eye. ‘Yes, I know.’

‘I’m sorry I bugged you with this, especially tonight.’

‘It’s okay. We all have our moments.’

I hug her again. ‘Thanks. I’ll let you get back to the party, okay?’

She nods.

I guide her back to the table and then make small talk. Dante and Finn pin questioning stares on me, so I make my exit after a few minutes and get back into my SUV.

My driver pulls onto the road to take me home, and my phone dings. I look down and read the message.

I reread the message and then respond.