The Ruthless Groom Read online

  The Ruthless Groom

  Monica Murphy

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  About Midnight Dynasty

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Charlotte

  The moment I enter the suite, I’m turning the deadbolt on the door, my breathing harsh in the otherwise silent hotel room. I glance over at the bed, the messy sheets and rumpled pillows and memories of last night come at me, one after another.

  Perry’s mouth all over my body. Between my legs. The look on his face when he first entered me.

  A shiver steals over me and I tell myself to focus.

  After I wash my hands of the sticky coffee leftover from me tossing it at Seamus, I pace the hotel room, constantly checking my phone, tempted to call Perry and ask him if he’s closer. The smug look on Seamus’s face still haunts me and I open my browser on my phone, entering two words before I start searching.

  Constantine Morelli.

  A bunch of articles appear, mostly about various business deals. They’ve been archrivals for years from what I can tell, and the two families hate each other with a burning passion.

  I knew this. From the very start I could tell there was tension between them whenever a Morelli showed up or was mentioned. Yet I also know there are various Morellis attending our wedding in a few short hours.

  The Constantines are the type who keep their friends close and their enemies closer.

  Are there McTiernans in attendance as well? It’s a last name that’s never been mentioned once since this entire situation started. I would’ve noticed. It’s hard to forget the name of the man who took your virginity and lied to you the entire time you were together.

  Anger suffusing me, I close out that tab and enter another two words into the browser, hitting search.

  Seamus McTiernan.

  I haven’t done a Google search on him in months. First, because I banned myself after being in such a dark depression over our disaster of a relationship. Second, the last six weeks or so, I’ve been a little busy planning a wedding and getting to know my future husband.

  As I scroll, I realize there still aren’t many things written about Seamus. A couple of images of the Morelli and McTiernan clan gathered together, with him standing in the background, his face almost nondescript, the photo is so blurry. His name listed at the various institutions he’s worked at in the past, though his image never accompanies those mentions. There are hardly any mentions of him at all.

  His online presence is weak and that immediately makes me suspicious.

  Is that on purpose? What is Seamus hiding? I wonder if he’s still with his girlfriend. They’d been together a long time, I could tell. She treated him with a familiarity that comes with many years of being a couple.

  Yet, in the coffee shop, he spoke of me as if he’s always kept tabs on me.

  That’s…

  Creepy.

  There’s a rapid-fire knock on the heavy door that startles me enough it makes me gasp. I run to the door, throwing it open at the same exact moment I remember Perry’s warning that I should open it for no one else but him. And it’s not Perry standing in front of me.

  It’s my mother.

  “Darling!” She pushes past me and rushes inside the suite while I stand there gaping at her, sagging against the door. Incredibly grateful that it wasn’t Seamus. She turns to face me, her gaze drifting over me, her expression dismayed. “Looks like you spilled something.”

  I glance down, noticing the light brown splattered pattern of coffee on my sweatshirt.

  “You should’ve already showered by now, Charlotte. There’s a lot of prep involved today,” she continues.

  “I just woke up,” I lie as I slowly close the door, watching as she glances around the room, her nose faintly wrinkled.

  “It’s so dark in here.” She marches over to the windows and yanks open the curtains, the bright sunny morning light making me wince. “There. That’s much better.”

  “You’re here early,” I say weakly, wishing I had that coffee in hand after all. I’m going to need plenty of caffeine to get through this.

  “I realized ten o’clock wasn’t early enough to start this very important day. I called everyone last night and changed the time to nine,” she explains.

  “You didn’t call me.” I scroll through my past notifications, realizing that oops, she did actually call. And I ignored it. Looks like she left a voicemail too.

  Which I also ignored—probably because I was having sex with my almost-husband.

  I can’t help but smile. For once, I don’t feel nervous or unsettled when I think about Perry. It actually seems…right that we’re doing this. Getting married.

  My stomach swarms with butterflies as the importance of today dawns on me. I’m getting married.

  Married.

  By tonight, I’ll be known as Charlotte Constantine. This is a big deal.

  Huge.

  My smile fades. I hate that Seamus had to show up and taint the morning. I hate worse that Perry is speeding back toward the hotel, most likely worried sick about me.

  Opening up my text messages, I send him a quick one.

  Everything’s okay. My mother is with me. I’ll tell you what happened later.

  There’s another knock on the door and I rush to answer it, looking through the peephole this time around.

  “It’s the porter with my luggage,” Mother announces just as I visually confirm that she’s right. “The makeup artists and stylists are right behind me. They’ll be here any minute. Caroline and Tinsley will be here soon too.”

  I open the door for the hotel employee who offers me a sheepish smile as he brings in the loaded bellman cart into the room. It’s going to turn chaotic in here in a matter of minutes and I can definitely guarantee I won’t get a chance to talk to Perry if he shows up—which he probably will. I won’t be able to explain everything that happened and I hate that.

  I hate it.

  “Go take a shower,” Mother demands once the porter leaves the room with his more than generous tip. “You need to get ready. But don’t wash your hair! It’ll be easier to work with if it’s a little bit dirty.”

  “I washed it yesterday,” I say, in a daze as I walk over to my suitcase and open it to dig out the special bra and panty set I purchased just for tonight’s occasion—my wedding night. Sheer white fabric and lace that cost a fortune yet consists of basically nothing.

  “And put on a robe when you’re finished with your shower. Lotion up! You don’t want any dry patches on your skin. If you’d like, I can come into the bathroom when you’re ready and help you lotion your back,” she suggests.

  Ugh no. That’s the last thing I want. “It’s okay. I can do it.”

  There’s another knock on the door and the back of my neck prickles with awareness.

  I don’t know why, but I can sense that’s my future husband.

  “I should get that,
” I start but Mother puts a hand on my arm, stopping me.

  “I’ll take care of it. You need to jump in the shower. Now,” she says as she steers me toward the bathroom.

  Reluctantly I enter the bathroom but don’t quite close the door. I can hear the steady murmur of conversation between the two makeup artists. Someone’s phone is ringing—it might be mine, I’m not sure. I’m straining toward the open crack of the door, wishing I could see if it’s Perry who’s knocking, and when I hear his deep, reassuring voice, I’m about to go to him.

  “Oh no,” Mother says and I can hear the displeasure in her tone. I hold my breath, waiting to see what she says. “You are the very last person who can come into this room.”

  “I need to talk to Charlotte,” he says calmly, though I can practically feel the tension radiating off of him, filling the entire suite with his tense vibes. “Just for a moment.”

  “The groom is not allowed to see the bride before the ceremony! You know this,” Mother chastises.

  “Ma’am, that sort of thinking has been thrown out in recent years, since so many photographers like to take the wedding photos before the ceremony,” one of the makeup artists says.

  The room goes silent. Even Perry isn’t talking.

  I press my lips together to keep from laughing. I’m sure my mother did not appreciate that remark.

  “Let me in,” Perry demands, surprising me. Something heavy lands against the door and my mother yelps. I wonder if he’s trying to push past her. She’s pretty strong when she wants to be. “I need to know that Charlotte is all right.”

  My heart squeezes. He’s worried about me.

  “You cannot come in. And she’s fine,” Mother says, and I can tell she’s struggling. Most likely with the door. “See you in a few hours.”

  The door slams, making me jump and I quickly close the bathroom door, sagging against it.

  My stomach is in knots and I wish more than anything I could go to Perry and reassure him that I really am all right. There’s so much I need to tell him still. About Seamus, and how he was the one I was with in Paris. That he really does mean nothing to me. Seeing him in the coffee shop left me feeling unsettled.

  Even fearful.

  But none of those old feelings bubbled up. Not at all. I wasn’t interested. I didn’t want to throw myself at Seamus and beg him to take me back. I’m over it.

  Over him.

  I’ll be okay. I have Perry in my corner. He’s about to become my husband and he cares about me. Last night only proves that. What we shared was…

  Magical.

  What started out as horribly fake is turning into something real.

  And I can’t wait to walk down the aisle toward my husband.

  Chapter Two

  Perry

  I almost lost my shit the moment Louisa Lancaster slammed the door in my face, but I restrained myself. She’s my almost-mother-in-law and I’m not about to act like a dick toward her on my wedding day.

  But damn it, I want to talk to Charlotte.

  Now.

  She sounded so frantic, so damn scared when she called me. She threw me into a full-force panic and I raced back to the hotel to be with her. All I wanted to do was hold her and tell her it was going to be okay. That’s it.

  Yet I couldn’t get past the barrier that was her domineering mother.

  What the fuck kind of weakling am I?

  Checking my phone, I see I have a text from Charlotte and I send her a quick response.

  Call me as soon as you get this.

  I can’t get over how terrified she sounded on the phone. Frantic. Breathing hard and with her voice shaking. What did this asshole do to her? Say to her? Who is he? I don’t necessarily recognize the name, though I know McTiernans are part of the Morelli family. And I don’t keep as close tabs on them like my brother does. He knows every single one of them by sight, even the insignificant ones.

  Like the McTiernans.

  They’ve just become more significant to me, that’s for damn sure.

  By the time I’m in my car and headed back to the apartment I don’t even own so I can get ready for a wedding that originally wasn’t of my choosing, I’m on the phone with my brother, digging for information.

  “What do you think of Seamus McTiernan?” I ask the moment Winston answers.

  He’s quiet for a moment, as if he has to dip into the dark recesses of his deviant mind to come up with an answer.

  “I don’t.”

  That’s it. That’s his final answer.

  “I’ve never even heard of this asshole,” I mutter, hitting the horn when someone cuts in front of me in traffic.

  “He’s a quiet member of the family. From Ireland originally, though last I heard, he was living in Paris and teaching.” Winston snorts. “In other words, a commoner, doing God knows what and molding impressionable young minds.”

  He says it with a sneer in his voice, and I almost want to laugh. Anyone who works what Winston regards as a basic job is beneath him. Like a teacher.

  “He was a professor at some college,” Winston continues. “Though I don’t believe he works there anymore.”

  The lightbulb moment hits me so swiftly, I swerve my steering wheel to the right, the car veering into the next lane and nearly hitting the SUV next to me. The driver honks and gives me the finger as I speed away, irritation filling me.

  Consuming me.

  Seamus doing God knows what while in Paris? I could tell Winston exactly what.

  That fucker was doing my fiancée.

  Paris. Charlotte. Her mystery dark-haired lover.

  Is related to the fucking Morellis.

  Related to Leo Morelli, the man who punched me in the face last fucking winter at the Constantine compound. I’m supposed to put it all behind us now that my cousin Haley married him, but I will never fully trust a Morelli.

  “Why are you asking about him? What does he matter?” Winston sounds bored, but I’d guess he’s also curious. He once loved nothing more than to trash-talk Morellis and plot their demise. That was before he became domesticated.

  I fully planned on telling Winston what I know, but I change my mind. I don’t have enough details yet. I’m assuming who Seamus is to Charlotte, but I don’t have all the facts. And I need them.

  I need to talk to her first.

  “No reason,” I say, my voice casual. Like it’s normal for me to bring up an obscure relation to the Morellis. “I hear he’s back in town.”

  “He is,” Winston says.

  Irritation sparks. “And how do you know this?”

  “I know everything that happens when it comes to the Morellis and McTiernans. I keep tabs on them at all times—you know this. Pretty sure he’ll show up to your wedding reception. A bunch of them will be there,” my brother explains.

  If my brother knows everything about the Morellis and McTiernans, why didn’t he know about my almost-wife’s involvement with one of them?

  “Did you know about Charlotte and a certain Morelli relative? Specifically Seamus McTiernan? Did they have a relationship or affair or whatever the fuck?” I ask him outright.

  He hesitates, and in that one single pause, I realize the asshole did know.

  “Fucker,” I mutter before he can say anything.

  “Look, I only just found out about it, but what was the point in telling you before the ceremony?”

  “You didn’t tell me because you knew I’d be mad and I might walk out on this shit show of a wedding,” I accuse. “He’s the one, right? The man she was involved with?”

  A ragged exhale leaves my brother. “Yes. They were—involved. It was short lived, she was humiliated, because he was engaged to another woman. She ran home. The end.”

  “The end? That’s it? How long have you been sitting on this?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does! I don’t like being lied to, Winny. Even if it’s supposedly for my own benefit.” I’m quiet as I drive. Silently fuming.


  “Are you mad?” he finally asks.

  “Hell yes, I am! She fucked a Morelli!”

  “Technically, he’s a McTiernan.”

  “Morelli, McDickface, it’s all the same.” I blow out a harsh breath. “Something happened between the two of them this morning.”

  “Wait a minute. Between Charlotte and McTiernan? I need details,” Winston demands.

  I launch into the story, explaining to him what Charlotte told me, which wasn’t much. Even though I originally told myself I wasn’t going to tell my brother any of the details until I had more of them, it all comes pouring out of me anyway.

  “Do you think she put that together?”

  Hearing him say it out loud makes anger flare in my blood. “I don’t know.”

  “You trust her?”

  “I thought I did.”

  “You should ask her about it.”

  “Not like I can bring him up in casual conversation during our wedding reception,” I mutter. “I’m still pissed you kept this from me.”

  “You’ll get over it.” Winston says it with such assuredness, because he knows it’s true.

  Damn it.

  “And why the hell will a bunch of Morellis and McTiernans be at my wedding reception again?” At the light, I whip my car to the right, my tires screeching on the pavement, the back end of my car squirrely.

  “We’re putting on a show, little brother. Uniting with the Lancasters is a fucking power move and you know it. You wedding and bedding a Lancaster makes you a king.” Winston actually sounds proud, the power-hungry motherfucker.

  “Start calling me king, then,” I demand, my grip on the steering wheel so tight my fingers start to cramp up.

  “Ha, you wish. I’m the king of this family. You’re just the sorry-ass second son.” He ends the call before I can say anything else, the music I was listening to before I got on the phone now flooding the interior of my car. I turn up the volume, letting the angry guitar and heavy bass beat thrum through my veins.

  I should be feeling on top of the world. I’m about to marry a woman who is fine as fuck and a nice piece of ass in bed. I sound like a callous asshole even in my own thoughts, but damn. That’s exactly what Charlotte is.