“You left your man lying on the ground,” Mackenzie squawks, twisting in her seat to look out the back window. “I knew someone was going to get hurt, but I didn’t think it would be Zero.”
She looks upset about this. “He’ll be fine.” I pull her down to the seat and buckle her in. “He’s suffered far worse.”
“That’s not very encouraging.”
“It was either Zero or the girls, and I thought you would be annoyed if your friends got hurt.”
“Annoyed? Yeah, I guess that’s one way of putting it. Wait, where are you taking me?” She notices for the first time that we are moving out of Vieth territory.
“It’s been forty-eight hours, and I told you before I’m not good at waiting. We’re leaving for home.” I pat her knee. “It’s a cross-country flight, but I have superior service on my private jet. You should be able to get plenty of rest.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No. It’s a very comfortable way to travel. We have a personal chef along with a masseuse for the long hauls. Our meals are somewhat limited to what is stocked before takeoff, so if you have personal requests, let me know so I can phone it in. We should be at the hangar in about twenty minutes.” I stretch out my legs, pleased at how smoothly everything has gone. I should’ve kidnapped her before, but I was trying to be considerate of her feelings. I reach in between us and pull out the chilled bottle of champagne from the refrigerated console. “Why don’t we toast to our new—”
“Do you know who I am? I’m Mackenzie Ward. My dad ran the vilest, most disgusting human trafficking ring in this country, and I ran the books.” She jabs a thumb at her chest. “I washed his dirty money through restaurant fronts and dry -cleaning businesses and auto repair shops. We bought land and buildings in other countries in dirty cash and then sold them for shiny deposits in real bank accounts. I did that.”
“Did you know what your father was doing?” I pour the champagne into a flute and hand the glass to her.
She takes it, confusion pulling the corners of her pretty mouth down. “I knew it wasn’t legal.”
“It’s not the same, and you know it. Everyone’s got a few skeletons. I don’t care what yours are. Cheers.” I tap my glass against hers and take a sip of the Veuve Clicquot.
Mackenzie is flummoxed. With a small sigh, I set down my champagne, take her glass and put it into the console holder, and then gather her small hands in mine.
“I do not care who your family is or what they have done in the past. I do not care what you did in the past. I care who you are today and who your family will be. Today, you are Mackenzie, a Vieth ward. The Vieth Orphans are known for con games, swindles, and the occasional murder, although I think Karin would call it culling the herd. Karin Vieth gave her daughter to Aidon, a man who feeds his enemies his own shit and then burns them alive in the furnaces of the basement of his headquarters. No one in this game has clean hands. Not even the Charmonts.” I bring her lovely fingers to my lips. “And as for your family, it will be mine. Yours and mine, the family we create together.”
“You’re supposed to be a king someday. It matters who you marry.”
I laugh. “Darling, I’m not that kind of aristocracy. The Charmonts rule the west. Our kingdom is more theoretical than physical. We have the money of royalty, and my family’s line can be traced to a royal family tree in Europe, but I could marry a pigeon, and no one would bat an eye.”
She sags against the leather seat. “I think marrying birds is against the law.”
I laugh again. “Which is why I’m marrying you.”
“Are you really unconcerned about my past? Your parents won’t care?”
“My parents will be delighted at gaining a daughter, and my mother has high hopes you are pregnant already.” I retrieve her champagne glass and am about to hand it over when she bolts upright.
“You’ve told your parents about me?”
I swallow a sigh and return the champagne to the holder. I don’t think we’ll be getting a pre-flight cocktail in until we reach the jet. “Of course. I explained I was bringing my bride back from the Vieth celebration and to expect us for breakfast.”
“I can’t meet your mother like this.” Mackenzie pats her beautiful hair. “Oh God, this is terrible. I haven’t packed anything. I have some CC cream in my purse and a bad lipstick color. I’m not getting on the plane. Take me back to my apartment.”
She folds her arms across her chest and glares.
“She’ll love you just as I do.” I drain my glass of champagne and lean against the headrest. The silence in the car grows deafening. I tilt my head to peer at Mackenzie, whose jaw has dropped. “Yes?”