In that moment, she would have given anything to trade places with her. She would have given anything for her sister to not know that sort of pain.
She hadn’t deserved that.
No woman did.
“You think your brother was wronged?” Isla asked shortly, her gaze narrowed on the woman. “You clearly don’t know the meaning of the word.”
She anticipated the moment Elsie reacted to what she said—to lash out in anger and strike her as others had. She was all but ready for it, but the blow never came.
“I had my doubts about you, Miss Ashworth. I’ve heard the rumors, you understand. None of them particularly good.”
As if she needed to be told that.
She could only imagine what was whispered about her when she was around others, let alone what was said when she was no longer in the room.
“But one thing I wasn’t sure about until now was your feel is about your sister.”
“Whatever dynamic you have with the Runehart brothers is your business,” Isla said with a shrug. “The rest of us aren’t so dysfunctional.”
Elsie laughed, as if they were old friends. “Perhaps you’re right about that, but I think we both know what it means to have a troubled relationship with a parent.”
Isla didn’t bother to respond to that, not right away because she couldn’t deny that even if she wanted to. “I’m assuming you have a point ...”
“I spoke with your sister some time ago. Don’t worry,” she said quickly, “I doubt she knew who I was, but that’s not relevant to this conversation. Actually, had it not been for my meeting with her, I wouldn’t have done more research on you and your family.”
Isla frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What if I told you everything you thought you knew about that day was a lie?”
Was she actually serious?
“It wasn’t a lie. I was there.”
Elsie sighed, studying her with a grave look on her face. “I hate to tell you this, but everything wasn’t what it seemed that day.”
“What are you trying to say?” Isla demanded, her hands curling into fists.
“I’m saying, someone is lying about what happened that day ... and it’s not Uilleam.”
* * *
Being kidnapped by Uilleam Runehart’s sister was the least of her concern at the moment.
The only thing Isla cared about was the truth and as of now, she didn’t know what to believe anymore.
Worse, even as she knew Elsie Runehart wasn’t the most reliable source considering what sides of the line they were standing on, age couldn’t help but think there was some truth to what she was saying.
And that worried her most.
As she stepped out into the midmorning sunlight, the world no longer looked the same. Her thoughts were racing a mile a minute and as it were, there was only one thing on her mind.
Isla has hardly been waiting outside for more than a handful of minutes when the unmistakable sound of a truck rent the air and she turned in time to see Zoran practically hitting the corner on two wheels before screeching to a stop a foot away from her.
Relief and a calmness she had never quite felt before hit her the second the driver’s door swung open and he climbed out, his face a mask of worry and fury.
The lines, she realized, were getting too blurry. He was her protection, nothing more. The first thing she should have done at the sight of him was give him an order as to what they needed to do next—the very lesson she had been taught by not just her mother, but the men who had ultimately shaped her into who she was.
Instead, when she crossed the sidewalk over to him, the first thing he did was wrap her in the strong embrace of his arms and she let him. She didn’t fight or complain—she didn’t try to protect herself from the emotions his hold inspired inside of her.
She merely tucked herself in close to him, inhaling the warm familiar scent that cling to his skin, and let his mere presence soothe the worst of her anxiety.
She had plenty of time to be angry at her own foolishness—even more to remember that this was just who Zoran was and in the grand scheme of things, this moment meant nothing.
But for just a spell, she could pretend that they were something other than what they were.
And how could she not when his fingers selves into her hair the way they did, stroking her scalp and soothing her in a way that only he could.
How could she not mistake this for something else when he held her so gently, yet so close all at the same time.
Standing here with him, Isla felt safe in a way she had never been before.
She wasn’t sure how long they remained there, huddled together, but she finally willed herself to pull away—feeling every single inch of that separation—and looked up to meet his worried gaze.
And he was certainly that. She didn’t think she had ever seen him look at her like this before—as if he’d thought he actually lost her.
Not even when he had found her broken and bloody the one time that changed everything between them ...
“I’ll explain later,” she said, her voice sounding foreign to her own ears. “For now, we need to leave.”
If there was one thing she knew, Zoran trusted her implicitly, and she him, so though he didn’t have all the details he probably wanted, he reluctantly nodded and came around the side of the car to open the passenger door for her.
She didn’t allow herself to relax until he was behind the wheel, the doors were locked, and they were driving away from a building she doubted she would ever forget.
* * *
Isla didn’t start to feel human again until she stepped out of the shower, steam billowing out after her as she wrapped a towel around her waist.
Her hair hung in curling ringlets around her shoulders, and beyond the pal or of her skin, she didn’t look any worse for wear as she peeled at her reflection in the mirror before heading back into her bedroom where, to her surprise, Zoran was waiting.
He sat at the end of her bed, arms braces behind himself, making her wonder just how long he’d been sitting there.
She wasn’t in the least bit embarrassed to find herself standing in front of him wearing nothing other than a towel. After all, he’d seen her in various states of undress over the years.
But this time felt more vulnerable for whatever reason. Though she doubted the way he stared now was sexual, it still felt as if he was seeing the vulnerable bits of her she usually kept tucked away from prying eyes.
That was her thing. She couldn’t afford for anyone to see her at her lowest because then they would be able to hold that against her—and that was what all people did.
They hunted through a person’s weaknesses until they found the one they could use to attack.
It’s what she had been taught to do.
Which was why she was always careful about maintaining her image—showing the world only what she wanted it to see.
To others, her skin was Teflon. Nothing got to her. And to anyone outside of this room, her kidnapping meant nothing. Par for the course.
Something inevitable.
But standing in front of him now, she wondered if Zoran saw what she didn’t want him to see. That she was rattled.
That for once, despite everything she had suffered, she wasn’t okay.
“Come here.”
Two words casually spoken, but an order nonetheless. And despite her being the one usually issuing them, she still found herself crossing the floor, holding her towel close around her, as she stopped in front of him.
Zoran didn’t give her a chance to speak before his gaze roamed over her front, drinking in everything her minuscule cover didn’t quite hide.
She knew what he was searching for—bruises or injuries of any sort—because the moment he found the dark marks bracketing her wrists, he smoothed his thumbs over them, as if he could will them away so easily.
“I wasn’t taken for that reason,” she explained softly, figuring
there was no better time than the present to tell him what was happening. Especially because she was going to need his help.
“Who did this?” he asked, and when he looked up at her, she saw the promise of retribution in his eyes.
And though the sight would have made her smile any other time, she couldn’t afford for him to do what he was considering.
Because for the time being, she needed Elsie Runehart alive, if for no other reason than because the woman and her had one common goal.
Finding out the truth about their niece.
It was with that thought in mind that she explained everything she knew about the Runehart and all Elsie had revealed during their short time together.
“She came to you for a reason,” Zoran guessed, studying her face. “But why?”
“I suspect because she thought I had something to do with it,” Isla responded with a shrug, glancing down at her bare feet.
Though, she still wasn’t quite sure what IT was, exactly. She was certainly inclined, after everything Elsie had revealed, to believe there was more to what happened to Karina the day she was shot than she originally suspected, but a part of her didn’t want to believe it.
She certainly knew what her mother was capable of, or at least thought she did, but this was incomprehensible.
This was almost beyond the realm of possibility.
Zoran shook his head. “You wouldn’t do that.”
She waited, expecting him to add some sort of amendment to that, or at least make the clarification that she wouldn’t do it to Karina in particular, but it never came.
For whatever reason, he believed she just wasn’t capable of doing what she’d been accused of at all.
Isla was strangely ... flattered by that.
“Your mother on the other hand,” he went on with thinly veiled disgust, “she’s a piece of fucking work.”
Instinct demanded that she stick up for Katherine, profess that her mother wasn’t the monster so many thought she was. She wanted to tell him he didn’t know her well—that she was probably just different from what he was used to.
But, she swallowed those words back down because while she knew Katherine was her mother, that didn’t mean she wasn’t awful.
It had just taken her a long while to see it.
“But I can’t imagine what she would get out of it,” Isla said adjusting her towel, pretending she didn’t notice the way Zoran’s gaze dipped when she did. “And certainly not to Karina.”
Isla might have been the eldest, but her sister was the golden child. At one time, the thought had bothered her—made her wonder what was so wrong with her that their mother was incapable of loving her the same—but soon, she had grown grateful for it.
At least her sister would never suffer in the ways she had.
Zoran made a low sound in the back of his throat. “Can narcissists truly care about anyone other than themselves?”
“But we’re not talking about something as simple as forged paperwork or something simple. D’you truly believe Katherine is capable of hiding a child?”
From his expression, the answer was yes.
But even before she had that answer, a sudden memory hit her—one she hadn’t thought about since the day it happened.
Just a moment, noted and dismissed at the time because it hadn’t seemed important at the time.
But now ... she remembered a woman, older than most that frequented Ashworth Hall, who had seemed to pop up out of nowhere. Someone Isla hadn’t seen since that day so many years ago.
Someone, she recalled, who’d been holding a newborn baby.
18
Choices
The days started to pass in a blur of court proceedings, sleepless nights, and watching Katherine slowly start to unravel as Uilleam’s attorney managed to circumvent every card she’d attempted to play.
Karina wanted to feel bad—or at least be angry at the fact that Uilleam was doing what he did best though he had yet to open his mouth since the trial began—but she couldn’t bring herself to feel anything other than surprise, and sometimes relief, whenever another piece of manufactured evidence was tossed out or a witness testifying was destroyed on cross.
It was becoming abundantly clear that despite everything they had set up, there was no winning against him.
And after the other night, Karina’s feelings where he was concerned were all over the place—more so now than usual.
Which was why, despite him calling, she had ignored his phone calls and talked herself out of going to see him again. This time, she was the one blurring the lines.
In the end, she knew she would have to be the one to make a decision—to either let him go finally or …
Forgive him.
But after all this time, could she bring herself to do that? She’d held onto this anger for so long, it felt weird to just let it go, even as it was what she wanted to do.
And the more she thought about it, the more she understood why.
She’d done what she set out to do.
Make him pay.
Make him regret every decision he’d made that day. And he did, she’d made sure of it.
What was left now?
Her thoughts in turmoil, Karina had her answer, even if it was one she didn’t like.
She needed to see him again.
* * *
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
The smart, most logical, thing to do was avoid him at all costs, but if Karina knew how to manage that, she doubted she would be in this predicament in the first place.
At some point, she had to acknowledge that it wasn’t because of some sort of magic he had over her.
When it came down to it, this was her decision.
Her choice.
And for the second time in her life, she was choosing the opposite of what she expected she would.
Karina didn’t allow herself to think about it too much as she threw her hair up into a messy ponytail, dressed in something warm, and finally left the comfort of her home to climb behind the wheel of her Bentley.
The drive into the city was anything but eventful, and by the time she arrived at the Obsidian Hotel, she started to wonder if she was making the right decision.
Because it wouldn’t matter her intentions because in the end, what she was about to do would undermine everything her mother had set into place.
There was a chance she was about to ruin everything.
Karina offered her keys to the attendant before slipping into the building. She didn’t bother stopping by the front desk, already knowing what room Uilleam was in.
She’d told herself it was because she needed to know it just in case, but that ignored the fact that she had only bothered to learn it only after she learned of his visit to Wonderland.
From the moment she had climbed into her car, she’d been under a singular mindset, ready to do whatever it took, but the closer she came to the closed door or Room 221, the more nervous she became.
How exactly did she think this was going to go?
Because of her, Uilleam was on trial fighting for his life and his freedom.
The smart thing to do was to walk away. No one would even know she had been here.
She hadn’t knocked yet. She’d hardly even made it to the door. If she wanted, the only thing she needed to do was turn around and walk away.
Except, she didn’t get the chance.
Between one second and the next, Uilleam’s door opened and suddenly he was there, taking up every inch of space in the doorway.
Surprise kept her silent as she regarded him, taking in all the little details she had missed before.
The length of his hair.
The fatigue around his eyes.
His smile was a little sad as he regarded her. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I wasn’t expecting to come,” she said in return.
He stepped aside, allowing her in without a word. It still baffled her that he didn’t seem the least bit concerned t
hat she was coming to see him, even if it was in the middle of the night.
“Uilleam—”
“There’s something I need to say,” he interrupted her as he shut the door. “Something I should have said the last time you were here, but I’ll admit I was a bit selfish and was afraid of how you might react.”
Those words rendered her mute, making her worry about whatever he was going to say next. His expression was so grave now, as if what lingered on his tongue would change everything between them.
Not for the first time that night, she was nervous about what was coming next.
“I’ve always been a bit reckless, as you’re aware,” he began, a chagrined smile on his face that faded quickly. “I don’t often admit when I’ve made a mistake because … oftentimes I don’t believe I’m capable of making them.”
She pressed her hands together, tilting her chin up a fraction because in that moment she knew exactly where this was going and she was terribly afraid she would breakdown before he had a chance to finish.
“It would be easy to say I wouldn’t have sent Bishop had I known it was you there at the meeting—I understand that now.” He rubbed the back of his neck, seeming pained. “I’m good at hurting people—inflicting pain is what I do best—and I want to say it was losing everything that taught me a lesson where that’s concerned, but I would be lying to you if I said that was true. Losing you hurt me more than anything else.
“I couldn’t eat … I couldn’t sleep … hell, most days it felt as if I couldn’t breathe knowing that someone had harmed you. And then coming to learn that it was me that had caused this rift between us … I really don’t have the proper words to express my regret for not just what I did to you, but what I did to us.”
He came toward her then, not giving her a chance to walk away. And when she felt his hand slide around to the flat of her stomach, she closed her eyes, willing the tears to go away before they could fall.
“An apology doesn’t seem good enough for what I’ve done. You deserve far more than that and if given the chance, I would spend a lifetime making up for what we’ve lost.”
Dark Horse: The Kingmaker Saga #5 Page 14