by Nicole Fox
“Mercy means more when it comes from the ones who hate you the most,” she says wisely.
I roll my eyes and sigh in frustration. “Your loyalty to him is suspicious,” I say before I can stop myself.
She raises her eyebrows. “What are you saying?”
I refuse to answer her. I’m already sounding like a jealous bitch and I don’t want to make that worse. Especially since Aisling in the only friend I have right now. I bite back the bitterness and try to focus on that—our blossoming friendship—as opposed to the man between us.
“My brother… He raised me to hate the Irish,” I tell her flatly. “He told me that they were all barbarians who took what didn’t belong to them.”
“Isn’t that every mafia in every city in the world?” she asks.
I almost smile. “You may have a point. I suppose I never questioned him.”
“You never had a reason to.”
I nod slowly. “But I should have. I don’t know where he is, you know. Isn’t that weird? I’ve been with him as long as I can remember. But he disappeared just before Kian walked back into my life. This is the longest I’ve ever gone without seeing him.”
“Do you miss him?” Aisling asks tentatively.
“No,” I reply. “But I do worry about him sometimes. Does that make sense?”
“Yes.”
“I hate my brother most days,” I tell her. “And I pity him. But I also know him well enough to know that he’ll never give up. If he does, he might as well kill himself. There’ll be no point in going on.”
“Is that what it’ll come down to then?” Aisling asks. “Master Kian against your brother?”
“I think there’s no way around it. It’s inevitable. It has to be one or the other.”
The unspoken question hangs between us. Which side will I stand on if a decision needs to be made?
Drago is my brother, but the odds are stacked against him. He hasn’t done anything to win my loyalty, short of sharing my blood. And really, in the end, does that even count for much?
“Do you know who might be helping your brother?” Aisling asks.
I frown. “I have a few names floating around in my head,” I admit. “But they’re just guesses. I don’t really know where he is or what he’s planning.”
Aisling looks like she wants to say something. I notice the nervous way she’s folding her hands together.
“Why do you care so much about my brother’s whereabouts?” I ask suspiciously.
“I don’t care,” she says—a little too fast, in my opinion. “But I do think…”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
“No,” I insist, “tell me.”
She sighs. “I do think your brother is a threat.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “My brother has no real power. None at all. The only real threat he poses is to Kian’s life.”
“Isn’t that enough?” Aisling asks. “Master Kian is the better man.”
I get to my feet instantly. “You want my brother dead!” I yell. “Don’t you?”
Aisling says nothing. Instead, she gets to her feet calmly, but she refuses to refute the point.
It seems as though I’m furious that she’s insulted my brother. But that’s not why I’m angry at all. It’s her devotion to Kian that is upsetting me beyond reason. It’s making me see things that I don’t want in my head. Like the image of Kian and Aisling, wrapped in each other’s arms. Naked and trembling with desire.
“Get out,” I snarl at her. “Right fucking now. Get out of my sight.”
She doesn’t look angry or even hurt as she silently makes her way out of my room. She just takes it, as though she’s been built to accept the ravings of a stone-cold bitch who’s lost everything time and time again.
29
Renata
The door closes. Aisling is gone. I have only a few moments of peace before the guilt sets in.
What was I thinking? Even if she and Kian were involved, what do I care? I have no claim on Kian. Why should it matter what the two of them do together?
And yet it does. It does matter to me. I have no right to be upset or angry or jealous. But there’s no denying I am all of those things.
“Fuck!” I moan to the empty room.
I collapse onto the freshly made bed, knowing that Aisling probably made it herself and feeling even guiltier about that. I turn around to face the ceiling and try to get a grip on my manic emotions. When that doesn’t work, I decide to do something about what I can control.
I get off the bed and head out of my room to find Aisling. I owe her an apology.
I’m heading down the stairs when I realize that I have no idea where to find her. She could be anywhere in the mansion at this point. I decide to poke around and hope I run into her.
Fifteen minutes later, I find myself in a large, bright room that faces part of the garden and part of the ocean. There’s minimal furniture, but a ton of paintings and portraits hanging off the off-white walls. More family portraits, mostly. I can’t resist lingering to take a better look at them.
I recognize most of his family from the photograph over the fireplace in his penthouse in Manhattan. The one face I can’t place here is a portrait of a young woman who looks a little younger than I am. She’s got deep set eyes and a pale complexion. Her gaze is direct, but secretive. She reminds me of a fair-haired Mona Lisa.
Considering every framed picture in here is of a family member, this girl must be one, too. But how is she related to Kian? A sister seems the most obvious choice, but Kian’s never mentioned a sister.
I bristle a little with the realization that he doesn’t owe me any explanations. It’s the fact that I expect one that feels a little jarring.
My relationship with Kian—if you could even call it that—feels like an enigma. One I can barely process, let alone understand. Every time I think I’m getting close to finding a peaceful medium with him, I feel as though he pulls the rug out from underneath me.
I’m sick of playing guessing games. I’m tired of feeling like I’m a pawn in his world. I want answers. And the only way to get them is to ask.
When I reach his office door, I’m surprised to find that it’s slightly ajar. Voices emanate from inside and I pause, angling my body away from the open slit so that I won’t be noticed.
“…And?” Kian’s deep voice cuts through the relative silence.
“She was upset when I left her.”
A bolt of awareness flickers through my body. Aisling. She’d left my room and come straight here to speak to Kian.
I was right about her.
“She… It felt like she was angry with me about something.”
Why is she even telling him all this?
“Trust me, Aisling: you’re not the one she’s angry with,” Kian says gently.
“She wasn’t in the mood for conversation. She just wanted to fight. Then she ordered me out of the room.”
“It’s okay,” Kian says with a sigh. “Give her space if that’s what she needs. But I need you to make yourself available to her as well.”
The rest of his words are blocked out by the betrayed ringing in my ears. She’s spying on me… for Kian.
I shouldn’t be surprised. I shouldn’t feel so letdown. But honestly, what the fuck did I expect?
I know what I should do—sneak back to my room and stay there. Plot a way to escape this place without Aisling or Kian noticing. But my impulse control is a little rusty.
The anger builds and builds and before I know it, I’m slamming my palm into the door. It bursts inward to slam against the wall.
“Pardon me,” I growl. “Am I interrupting something?”
30
Kian
Renata walks into my office, radiating fury. She’s swapped her jeans for sweats and a hoodie, and yet she still manages to look sexy as sin.
As usual, my cock senses Renata’s presence and starts hardening at once. I don’t bother suppressing the inst
inct. I already know it’s pointless.
“Pardon me,” she hisses sarcastically. “Am I interrupting something?”
Aisling has paled noticeably and she keeps looking towards me, face marred with guilt. But I remain calm. I don’t even rise from my seat behind the desk. “Not at all, Renata,” I say smoothly. “What can I do for you?”
“Fuck you!” she yells. Aisling flinches. “Fuck you both. I heard everything.”
She rounds on Aisling. “I thought I could trust you! I thought we were friends.”
“Renata…”
“You can go back to referring to me as Ms. Lombardi,” she snaps. Then she turns on me. “You had one of your maids spy on me?”
I shrug. “What would you have done?”
She’s too angry to see the reason behind my words. Aisling was right: she’s looking for a fight.
“You’re nothing but a hypocrite and a liar,” she accuses. “You claim to be better than every other man like you, but you’re not. You’re the exact same, if not worse. At least none of those men claim the moral high ground. At least they can admit what they really are.”
“I never lied about anything,” I tell her, knowing that my excessive calmness is only pissing her off further. “If you had asked me if Aisling was watching you on my behalf, I would have told you the truth.”
“Lying by omission is still a lie.”
“I gave you freedom of my home, Renata,” I tell her. “Did you really think you wouldn’t be watched?”
“It’s more than that and you know it. You wanted information from me.”
“I told you that.”
“So then why not ask me your questions directly?”
“Would you have been honest with me?”
She stops short, unsure herself of the answer to that.
“You can’t deny that you still have some sort of twisted sense of familial loyalty to your brother,” I tell her. “How could I give you free rein and complete trust when you yourself don’t know where you land?”
“He’s my brother.”
“He sold you to a rapist.”
I know I’ve crossed a line by mentioning it at all. She shared that with me in a moment of rare vulnerability. But I need her to realize who her brother is—sooner rather than later.
Especially since I’ve realized that killing Renata Lombardi is not an option for me anymore. My first instinct where she’s concerned is to protect. Not to hurt. Not to break. I can’t keep telling myself that same old lie.
Things between us have changed. Forever.
“You bastard,” she says, her voice pitiful with uncertainty and hurt. “You made me think I could trust you.”
“You can trust me, Renata. I am what I’ve always been. I just wasn’t sure that I could trust you.”
She flinches back at that one. “Is… is that why…?”
She leaves the question unfinished, but I know exactly how it would have ended. Is that why you changed your mind down in The Room? Is that why you rejected me?
I can see now that the rejection is weighing on her more than she’d like to admit. It’s the fuel behind her current rage.
“Renata…” I say softly, getting to my feet.
She turns away from me stubbornly. “I was a fool. Right from the beginning, I was a fool.”
“Renata—Ms. Lombardi,” Aisling says, correcting herself quickly. “I’m sorry… This… It isn’t what it seems like.”
“Are you serious?” she scoffs. “Are you fucking serious?”
“He’s concerned for you—”
“Don’t!” she screams, her eyes turning into throwing stars. “Don’t you fucking try and spin this to make it seem like he gives a shit about me. He doesn’t and neither do you.”
“I understand you’re angry—”
“Why the fuck are you talking to me like I’m a psycho?” she demands. “Stop trying to calm me down. Just fucking stop!”
I take a deep breath and walk around my desk. She doesn’t back away from me, but I can tell she wants to. She just doesn’t want me to think she’s intimidated.
Is it possible that I had her naked in front of me less than an hour ago? Even now, I’m astounded at my own willpower. At the strength it took to tell her to run. To deny what I wanted, even when she was telling me to take her the way I’ve dreamed of endlessly.
Or maybe it wasn’t strength at all. Maybe it was cowardice.
I’m not quite sure at the moment, and until I am, I need to stall whatever is happening between Renata and me. One thing’s for sure though: all the progress we’ve made so far has gone to shit in the last few minutes.
“You were the one that told me that I have the control,” she says, her voice low, but gaining traction. “Isn’t that right?”
“That’s right,” I say with a resigned nod.
“But I’m your prisoner, aren’t I?” she continues. “At the end of the day, I’m the captive. You’re the captor. There’s no equal power dynamic. How can there be one when the scale doesn’t exist? There’s just you, Kian. And I’m the one on my knees in front of you.”
I suppress a sigh. She’s fucking smart, I’ll give her that. If she’d been the Lombardi heir, I’d have had my work cut out for me. It would have been an even playing field.
“That’s not true, Renata,” I say, playing into her hands.
“No?” she asks, raising her eyebrows and regarding me coolly.
I can still sense all that spark and fire lying just beneath the surface. Ready to erupt at a moment’s notice. She’s waiting for my move.
“No,” I reply. “You’re not my captive.”
“So if I want to walk out of this mansion right now, I can?” she asks.
I take a beat before I point where she entered. “There’s the door. Go.”
The words drop between us like a bomb. But it makes no sound. Her eyes go wide for a second and then she nods slowly.
“Then I’m leaving,” she says, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Are you going to stop me?”
“No,” I reply, shaking my head. “As I said, you’re free to go.”
“Your men won’t stop me?”
“You have my word,” I tell her. “I’ll send my instructions down to the main gate. No one will stop you. If it’s what you want, then walk away.”
She lingers a moment longer, as if to make sure I’m not going to laugh in her face and tell her the whole thing was just a massive ruse. “Okay then,” she says. After one more beat of hesitation, she turns and walks away, her back rigid, her jaw angled upwards in pure defiance.
The door slams shut behind her. I breathe out and lean back against my desk. “Fuck.”
“You’re really letting her go?” Aisling asks incredulously.
I look up. I’d forgotten she’s still here. “Yes.”
“But why?” Aisling asks. “She’s in danger out there. Yannis Rokiades still hasn’t been found.”
“I know what happens when you try to keep a free bird in a cage, Aisling,” I tell her. “The same thing was done to my sister. And she ended up killing herself before we could break open the lock.”
Aisling stares at me intently. I’m pretty sure she’s heard the rumors. Same as every person who works for the Clan for long enough. But this is the first time I’ve ever spoken openly about Aoife with Aisling.
“It’s true then?” she asks in a hushed voice.
“Yes, it’s true,” I say. “Our enemies took her. It cost my sister her life.”
“You’re not Renata’s enemy,” she says with conviction.
I give her a distracted smile. “If only she believed that.”
“She will. In time,” she tells me. “She might have to learn the hard way, though.”
“That’s precisely was what I was trying to prevent.”
“Why let her walk out of here then?” Aisling asks again.
I give her a lopsided smile. “I told her she was free to leave,” I say. “I didn’t say t
hat I’d leave her alone.”
Understanding dawns in Aoife’s eyes. “You’re having her followed?”
“In a manner of speaking,” I explain. “She’s got a tracker on her.”
Aisling shakes her head. “As usual, I’ve underestimated you.”
“Kind of a backhanded compliment. But I’ll take it.” I chuckle sadly as the maid turns for the door. “Oh, and Aisling?”
“Yes, Master Kian?”
“I’ve got a lead on your husband and daughter,” I tell her, relaying the latest news from my lieutenant leading the search. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up yet. But it looks promising.”
Her eyes light up immediately. Her voice is quavering but still strong. “Thank you, Don O’Sullivan.”
“I know it’s taken longer than I told you it would. I’m sorry for that.”
“I never doubted, sir.”
“Aisling, can I ask you one more thing?”
“Yes?”
“Why do you trust me so much?”
She laughs. An actual laugh, the first one I’ve heard from her in… ever. “Your eyes,” she says at last. “They don’t lie.”
The words spread through me like heat on a cold fucking day. My brothers and I say it all the time. I’ve just never thought about it recently. It’s all in the eyes.
I give her a nod. “I’ll keep you informed.”
She returns a grateful smile and heads out of the door. The moment I’m alone, I send instructions down to my men at the main gate. Then I use my phone to turn on the tracker hidden in Renata’s duffel bag. I’ve gone an extra step and also hidden a second tracker in the lining of her jacket. I watch via the app on my phone as the tracker moves through the mansion and reaches the front gate.
On the perimeter of the grounds, it stands still for a few seconds. It’d be easy to chalk it up to a delay in the signal from the device. But I can close my eyes and picture exactly what Renata is doing: standing at the edge of my property and using every single ounce of her willpower to stop herself from looking back.