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“It’s fine. I just miss him, you know? You never really understand how empty a room is until you’d give anything to have someone in it.” She shook her head, stifling a sob with a false laugh. Still, twin rivers of agony carved a path down her cheeks. “Charlotte helps. I have a little piece of him with me, like you said.”
I nodded, unsure what else I could say. No words could heal a widow—or anyone who lost someone they loved so deeply. A part of me had decayed after Nate had killed himself. I wondered which pieces of Shannon were withering, and what she would be able to salvage years from now.
A soulmate. I shuddered at the thought of losing Jack forever. I wouldn’t survive something so excruciating, so final. My deal with Luca Nicoletti was the one thing keeping him safe.
Chapter Seventeen
Emma
The last Thursday in July was humid, but I was escaping the heat at the Emerald. After extensive groundwork with Mick, I jumped on the treadmill for a cool down, reflecting on the past month.
I’d moved in with Jack until the end of August. Although he left early and always got home late, we had the nights together—and that was something.
As the weeks had passed, Jack’s demeanor had grown darker. It had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the fact that he couldn’t find any information on the Babau. He had been a brooding person even before Connor’s death, but he had usually relaxed when he was with me. His shoulders would shake with unbridled laughter, he’d sigh in content when I gave him a back rub—which ended in him pinning me to the bed. Those cherished moments were long gone and there was nothing I could do as he slipped further and further into a near constant state of internal turmoil. Shadows danced behind his eyes. When he didn’t know I was watching, his expression would become frighteningly blank. In some ways, it reminded me of Nate after his mother’s murder. That was more than enough cause for concern in my eyes.
Most of my time was spent at the penthouse, helping care for Charlotte. Her eyes, once the trademark newborn black, were now a brilliant blue—like a tropical ocean. They were Connor’s eyes, which both pleased and saddened Shannon.
Shannon was struggling, but motherhood suited her. I had found—and Eoghan had vetted—a postpartum therapist to help her work through the mixed feelings of single parenthood. The pediatrician was also making house calls, which told me Jack and Kieran didn’t want Shannon and the baby leaving the building under any circumstances. I considered myself lucky that Jack hadn’t put me on house arrest as well.
Jack cared about Shannon’s and Charlotte’s well-being, but he refused to speak to me about them, let alone see them. I offered to go to the penthouse with him, but he merely responded with a warning glare. He even refused to look at the pictures of Charlotte I had on my camera roll, which was now full of them. I mentioned Jack’s absence to Shannon once while we were folding laundry. She brushed me off, saying it was what she expected from him. As she said it, I was reminded of her prediction—“He’ll push you away.”
She was right on the money. Jack’s goal to avenge his brother’s murder was becoming a dark obsession. I didn’t know what to do, apart from be there for him in any way he saw fit to have me.
I was at the end of my third mile on the treadmill when my music was interrupted by a phone call. Tapping the AirPod in my ear, I answered. “Hello?”
“Hey, how you doin’, Em?” an unfamiliar voice rang through the minuscule speakers. I furrowed my brow, pressing the button on the console to slow down the belt.
“Who is this?” I huffed, trying to settle my breathing. I was a solid runner, but the day had taken a toll on me. Jack was insatiable this morning, waking me with his stiff cock and not so much as a word. Once he knew I was up, he’d flipped me over and fucked me hard until I was screaming his name. He had finished with a groan, kissed my forehead then left for work—and that was all before the sun had risen.
“It’s Jamie,” the person answered. “From school?”
“Of course!” I said with a little too much enthusiasm, setting my feet on either side of the belt. “I’m good. How are things?”
“Great!” He matched my tone. “I was calling because my friends are having a small pool party this evening at Syndicate Tower.”
My forehead wrinkled in impressed shock. Syndicate Tower was a skyscraper in Midtown with unobstructed skyline views. It was an expensive piece of real estate, which I knew because the O’Connells had had a hand in placing it with its current owner.
As a result, I knew the words ‘small’ and ‘Syndicate’ didn’t go hand-in-hand. There were multiple pools on the property, filled with enough water to combat a drought in some third-world countries.
“I know the study group wasn’t up your alley,” Jamie continued when I didn’t respond, “but I hoped cooling off on a rooftop was better suited to your tastes.”
I made a small noise at the back of my throat, fiddling with the miniature handcuffs resting between my sweaty collarbones. “I’m afraid rooftop shindigs are another no from me, Jamie.”
I’d been avoiding anything school-related for the past month. It felt pointless to worry about academics when people were being slaughtered on the streets—when my boyfriend was becoming a different man before my very eyes.
“So, what are you into?” Jamie prodded.
Heat rose to my cheeks at the suggestion in his tone. I stepped off the treadmill, glancing around the gym. The Emerald was never too inhabited. Most of the patrons were involved with the mob in some way. Those that weren’t—people training for the UFC—kept their mouths shut.
Jamie knew I had a boyfriend, a threatening one. He wouldn’t be seeking anything more than friendship. My little scholarly sidekick had never once given me the impression that he found me attractive. Still, I decided to err on the safe side—for Jamie’s sake.
“I’m into reading and spending time with Jack,” I answered, emphasizing Jack.
“All right, all right,” he joked. I pictured him holding his hands up in retreat. “No worries. Just thought you might want a break from all that shit going on with his brother. Connor, right?”
I swallowed, cursing myself. Why the hell had I mentioned Jack’s last name at the steakhouse? I’d forgotten how far of a reach the media now had on our lives. According to the public, the O’Connells were luxury real-estate developers. Jack was a silent partner in all endeavors, clinging to his anonymity. It had been careless of me to let that slip.
Mick’s blue eyes caught mine as he headed toward the octagon. He was accompanied by a burly fighter but stopped when he saw the look on my face.
