Brutal Bargain

Chapter One
Isabella

I stretch out my hand, pointing in his direction. “It was him. Niall Flanagan.” I turn back towards my father, feeling like a rabbit slipped out of a trap and now careening towards a cliffside. “So he’ll have to be the one to marry me.”

So many things happen in that instant that it’s hard to keep track of them all.

Niall’s face goes bone-white, his eyes glittering sapphire chips in his face, hard and furious.

Two of my father’s guards move in as if from nowhere, boxing Niall in as the crowd congeals behind him, and they grab him, one on each arm.

My father’s hand tightens on my elbow to the point of pain as Diego’s face turns into a mask of rage—and the entire room goes up in an uproar of confusion and astonishment; the night has taken a turn that no one could have foreseen.

Not even me, really.

I hadn’t meant to say it. It had felt, in the moment, like my only way out. A way to spring the trap I’d been caught in, my fear and galloping thoughts racing far ahead of my good sense or logic.

And now I can see that I might have only made things worse.

The security guards are dragging Niall forward as he fights with them, although it’s easy to see he’s reserving most of his strength. Diego comes two more strides forward before my father puts up his hand to signal for him to stay back, and the rage on the other man’s face only deepens, but he obeys.

I know my father is afraid. I can see it in his face when I glance sideways at him. Still, he stopped Diego from coming at me anyway, even knowing what kind of man Diego is, the stories about what he does to those who anger and betray him.

He still tried to protect me.

I’ve put everyone in danger.

“This isn’t funny, Isabella!” my father hisses as he turns towards me, yanking me around to face him. He’s never handled me so roughly in his life, but I can see how close his anger is to boiling over. “This isn’t a joke! Now tell the truth, or so help me god—”

“I am.” I try to jerk my elbow out of his grasp, but he’s holding onto me too tightly, as if I might run away—and I suppose I can’t blame him. “I am telling the truth. It’s not a joke.”

My father’s face is reddening, his dark eyes narrowed as he glares at me. “What did you do, Isabella?” he hisses furiously, and I swallow hard, choking back fear.

“I snuck out,” I whisper as defiantly as I can when I feel like my knees are about to turn to water and give way underneath me. I can’t see what’s happening to Niall when Diego Gonzalez is only a few feet away, ready to stamp his claim on me. “I hitched a ride into the city and went to a bar, and—he was there. And we—”

“Mierda.” My father rubs his hand over his face with his free hand and then grabs my shoulder, shaking me in front of everyone. “How could you have been so stupid! So reckless? My daughter, out alone…anyone could have seen you! Anyone could have kidnapped you, or worse—”

“Father.” Ángel is suddenly at his side, speaking low, quiet, and quick. “We need to have this conversation somewhere more private. The guests are watching, and Diego—”

“You’re right.” My father lets out a breath, glancing around, but I don’t dare move to see what’s happening. I feel frozen to the spot, terrified, but a moment later, I’m forced to walk towards my father’s office, flanked by him and my brother as my father keeps an iron grip on my elbow. “Tell Lupé to handle the guests and get Elena upstairs,” he mutters to one of the guards near us, and then he flings open the doors.

He doesn’t let go until we’re inside, the heavy doors shut behind us with Ángel standing in front of them, as if my tall, lean brother could stop Diego and his men from barging inside. The only thing that I can even hope to accomplish is my father’s guards can protect me, and even then, if Diego wants to get to me badly enough—

I shudder, rubbing my elbow with one hand as my father rounds on me, his eyes glittering angrily in his face. “Good,” he says, nodding as I tremble. “Maybe you’re starting to understand the severity of the situation you’ve caused, Isabella.”

“That I’ve caused?” I cry out. “You agreed to marry me to Diego Gonzalez!”

“For the sake of our family’s future, our safety!” my father roars. “Mierda, what are we going to do—” He paces briefly, his hand pressed over his mouth, and I realize I’ve never heard him curse in front of Elena or me before. Certainly not twice in as many minutes.

“This might not be as bad as you think it is,” my brother says with surprising calm, stepping away from the doors.

“How?” My father turns on him next, his tone strident and demanding. “She’s no longer unspoiled if her story is correct. Diego won’t want her. He’ll come down on us for this, shame our family, take our allies. The deal with the Irish will mean nothing, and no man of any wealth or rank will want her now—not to mention her sister’s future, oh Christ, Elena—”

My brother holds up a hand in an attempt to stop my father’s panicked stream of consciousness, while I fight the urge to lash out at being talked about like I’m not even standing there. As if I’m nothing but a pawn to make sure the right pieces move around the board of our lives the way they’re supposed to—but after all, that’s true, isn’t it? It’s never been anything more than that. And all my father’s promises were nothing in the face of a checkmate.

“We marry her to the only man who will take her now,” Ángel says firmly. “We marry her to the American. Niall Flanagan. With the two of them wed, the Irish will be forced to stand behind him and lend all their support to us, to keep Diego from storming our gates, so to speak. And not just the Irish Kings,” he continues, “but their allies as well. The Italians and Bratva that Flanagan spoke about. We will have an army at our back if what he said was true, and he is as close to one of the Kings as was implied. They won’t leave him here to die.”

My father rubs both his hands over his face at that. “A fucking American,” he growls. “Not even one of the heirs to their families. Just their lackey. You gave yourself to that? What the hell were you thinking, Isabella?”

He rounds on me again, and I flinch back, even though my father has never laid a hand on me in my life before tonight. His anger is terrifying, and for the first time, it gives me a glimpse into how a man like him holds onto his power at times. I’ve only ever seen the diplomatic side of my father, but all of that is gone tonight, on a tide of anger and fear.

But I’m angry, too. And I’m just as terrified.

“I could ask you the same question!” I burst out, my hands clenched at my sides. “What are you doing? You promised me you’d marry me to someone closer to my age, someone who would be kind to me! Those were your words—thirties at most, and kind! Diego is old, and worse than that, he’s cruel. You know how cruel he is. That’s why you’re shaking in your boots right now, thinking of how to make this right. I’m just a girl, just a silly girl, that’s what I’ve been told all my life—but now the two most powerful men in Mexico don’t know what to do because I let someone else stick their cock in me?” I snort, as my father’s face twists and hardens into an expression I’ve never seen before. “Seems like I have all the fucking power then.”

“You watch your mouth when you speak to me, daughter! I didn’t raise you to be a whore, or to speak like that to me--” He rears back as if he might hit me for the first time, but Ángel steps smoothly between us as if he sees where this is going before my father can act.

“Diego is the cruelest cartel boss in our country—and even beyond, maybe!” I exclaim from behind my brother. “And you blame me for not wanting to marry him?”

My father is breathing hard, but he steps back, clearly trying to get his emotions under control. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to, but I do blame you for being so foolish, reckless, and—to give away your value like that, I—”

“It’s not my only value! And I don’t want to marry a man who thinks it is--” I start to shout back, but my brother waves angrily at me, still clearly trying to separate the two of us.

“It’s the only option,” Ángel says tiredly, speaking to my father. “We salvage what we can of the situation. Our men are holding Flanagan so he doesn’t get it in his head to run. We’ll marry him to Isabella, and then—”

“You’re right.” My father sinks into one of the chairs, looking five years older suddenly, his face sagging with exhaustion. “It’s the only thing. We’ll retract the offer to Diego, privately if possible, and accept the consequences. We have the priest marry her to Niall as quickly as can be allowed, with a bribe if need be. We’ll take advantage of the alliances that should offer us—and move forward. It’s all we can do.”

In this entire conversation, no one has asked me what I want. It’s been nothing but my father and brother volleying back and forth, deciding my future for me as always, what they can do with me that will best serve them.

And the worst part is, there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t run, and there’s nowhere I can hide. No way for me to make a future for myself. I’m well and truly trapped—and now I’ve brought Niall down with me.

He’s going to hate me, I think miserably as my father and brother’s voices turn into hollow echoes, my mind closing in on itself. I’m going to be forced into a marriage worse than someone I don’t want—someone I do, who will despise me for what I’ve done to him.

But even that isn’t as bad as Diego Gonzalez.