Rhodes, my inner omega reminded me in a caressing whisper before unhelpfully adding: Alpha.
She really needed to get some better material because this was starting to get old.
“Well,” Edison said as he settled onto the lounge and rested his elbows on his knees, his fingers clasping in the valley between them. Again my eyes were drawn to the various rings he was wearing and the large signet ring of a bird on his pinky finger. “I’m Edison Keane and stone-face here is Rhodes McCreary, my second-in-command.”
As Edison spoke, I caught Oona slipping away out of the corner of my eye, leaving me alone with these two men. “And I’ve been the head of the Keane family for two years now ever since my father passed away.”
That meant that he hadn’t been in charge that night when he and Rhodes came to the hospital to be treated by Dr. Stedmeyer. It was probably why they stopped coming as well. A boss definitely didn’t get shot nearly as much as everyone else, and if they did, they had a private doctor to treat them.
But the information that Edison had just given me were things I already knew. Despite knowing it was a bad idea, I crossed my arms over my chest and shot him what had to be the brattiest glare I could manage. “And?”
Edison’s smile was slow and dangerous but for some reason fear wasn’t the emotion that was swelling in my stomach. “What else is there?”
Sucking in a steadying breath, I shrugged.
“What do you like to do? Do you have hobbies? How old are you? Normal stuff someone should know about their…” I searched for the proper word. “Fiancé.”
The jury was still out about whether or not I would go along with this man. Pack Ricci was a known entity to me, and past that night four years ago, I knew nothing about the man sitting in front of me.
A snort came from behind Edison and I watched as he turned to look at Rhodes, his expression shocked for only a breath before it smoothed out into the same suave smile he’d been wearing since the beginning of our conversation.
“I’m afraid I don’t have much free time on my hands thanks to my current… ah… career choices.”
I frowned at that because it felt like a cop out. Truly, he got to know everything about me and yet wanted to keep himself shrouded in a veil of ridiculous masculine mystery.
Opening my mouth, I was about to wish both of them a good day and scurry back to my tower, but Rhodes cut me off before I could speak.
“He likes to garden.” Rhodes nodded at the man in front of him. “And paint too. He also plays tennis every morning.”
I blinked at the man, surprised that he was saying anything at all. Rhodes, at face value, seemed to be the epitome of the tall, dark, and stone-faced stereotype that I’d come to expect from men like him.
Edison cleared his throat, clearly just as shocked by the other alpha’s intervention as I was. “He’s right. When I have time I like to do all of those things.”
“So why didn’t you tell me about them?” I crossed my arms over my chest.
His growl met my ears, and for a moment, I thought I’d gone too far. My mouth had gotten me into trouble before, but I’d forgotten that I wasn’t in my own house giving attitude to Ethan and Miranda Chandler. No, I was being a brat to the head of a mob family.
“Sorry,” I hurried to say, my gaze dropping to my feet automatically as I kicked myself inwardly. It had been stupid to let my emotions get the best of me.
“Peregrine,” Edison’s voice met my ears and it was so soft that it had my eyes darting back up to see what his expression looked like. He didn’t seem angry—despite his earlier growl.
Edison’s dark brows were drawn together like he was trying to find the words to say but was struggling.
“Perrie,” I corrected him, my voice more gentle now.
“Perrie,” he affirmed, straightening. “I apologize for putting you in this situation and for not being more forthcoming. It isn’t in my nature.”
“So why not let me go?” My father may have been powerful politically, but even I knew that there were more well-connected omegas in the world, hell, even in the city. I was a twenty-two-year-old woman that had barely gotten her high school diploma.
“You know I can’t do that. Your father promised you to me and I need you. Marrying me doesn’t have to be a bad thing, I will take care of you and so will my people.” His words were cajoling as he yet again shot another look over his shoulder at Rhodes who shifted uncomfortably in the stiff position he’d been standing in ever since Edison sat down.
There was something in the look they exchanged that I couldn’t quite decipher and Edison’s expression was odd when he faced me again.
“I can’t be that important, I’m barely even an omega at this point,” I pointed out with a scoff. Sure, my father seemed to have shaken both the Irish and Italians down for everything they had when it came to me, but he always did have a habit of overinflating his worth to others, so it wasn’t any different for him to do the same to me.
I’d been worried ever since meeting Pack Ricci that their expectations for me were much higher than anything I could hope to achieve—hell I wasn’t even sure my heat would actually happen.
The doctors all reassured me that it would happen, but I’d heard Mr. Amante and my father talk about it more than once when they thought they were alone.
“How can I be sure that you aren’t selling me a faulty product, Chandler. I’ll have you know I’ve had enough of those to last me a lifetime.” Mr. Amante’s voice echoed in my head, my heart thudding in my chest.
With Pack Ricci it had felt safer—Elio had all but told me outright that they had no interest in the actual sex part of the pack relationship and the three others had grumbled their agreement.
How they expected to have an heir, I had no clue, but it had been a relief to hear.
But with Edison Keane? I could see that he intended to be my alpha body and soul, filling me with a mixed sense of dread and the tiniest feeling of excitement.
“Besides, how do you expect me to be a mobster’s wife? I’ve never even touched a gun,” I finished stubbornly.
There was a beat before Edison burst into laughter, his mouth opening wide as he leaned back on the chaise, shaking his head with disbelief.
Even Mr. No-Expression behind him cracked a half-smile, his dark eyes crinkling in the corners as he otherwise remained still.
My face filled with warmth as the man continued to guffaw, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes as he tried to regain control of his composure again.
“Pet, what exactly do you think the wife of a crime family boss does?”
I shrugged, thinking about the mafia movies that Romey had been obsessed with when he was a preteen. My memory of it was vague but I knew that most of the women seemed like femme fatales—all sex appeal and grit—or they were the wife getting cheated on with said femme fatales.
