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56
IRINA
Scar was pissed.
His obsidian glare made things clench in my stomach that shouldn’t have responded to his anger and the rougher side of the man who always anticipated my needs and gave me exactly what I needed.
For a man who hadn’t thought he’d ever be able to touch me, he couldn’t seem to stop.
I glanced over at him, ignoring our ugly surroundings as my eyes zeroed in on the dusting of butterflies that climbed up the side of his neck. Even the day after he’d sat his ass down in the chair as soon as Aoife and I were finished with our ink, the sight of those tattoos fluttering against his skin in such a pronounced spot made my heart catch in my chest.
Only the knowledge that the ink was for me and she hadn’t actually touched his skin made me able to tolerate how close the tattoo artist had been to him yesterday. He’d flinched away, even with her hands covered by gloves, and that reminded me that something about me was special.
I’d never been special to anyone until him.
He turned his dark gaze fully on me, an arrogant smirk curving his lips when he found me staring at the new ink. Even in his ire that we’d been called away and he couldn’t spend the rest of the day with his mouth between my legs, his hand remained pressed against the small of my back as he guided me through the wreckage. Bullet holes covered the sides of the warehouse, hinting at the absolute bloodbath that had happened here only a couple months prior.
Sadie and Enzo weren’t fazed by the signs of violence in the warehouse they now owned, stepping over the carnage as if they’d done it a hundred times.
“Nothing says cozy and welcoming like bullet holes and shattered glass,” Scar muttered, his irritation showing through in the frustrated words.
“What’s wrong with you?” I asked, staring at him. Madison walked at my side, her eyes wide as she witnessed the other side of what Murphy and his men were capable of. She’d seen the worst of humanity in the form of abuse in a dark basement, but the death that accompanied their rise was another story altogether.
Not worse, just different.
“We signed the papers to purchase this place the day you were taken,” Sadie said, giving Scar a knowing look. Enzo wrapped his arm around her, tugging her into his side. “We talked about selling it. There’s so much bad here now.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head and snuggling into Scar. “All the more reason to make it something beautiful.”
“A gym is beautiful now?” Madison asked, quirking an eyebrow and nudging a large piece of glass with her foot.
“No,” I said, smiling over at the girl who would understand the purpose for the site better than anyone. “But a self-defense center aimed toward teaching women to prevent abduction is.” I spun, looking around the vast property surrounding the remains of the warehouse. “We should build the women’s shelter on site.” I pointed to the area behind the existing structure, knowing that the piece of land would be large enough to accommodate a large building.
“A women’s shelter?” Scar asked, turning his attention down to me. I hadn’t told him about my plans, the tentative beginning of them coming into focus more and more with each passing day. Even Sadie only knew the barest details.
“Would the women feel safe with a gym on the property?” Sadie asked. “I know the defense courses will be happening as well, but we’re still likely to have a large male population. It is a boxing gym to pay the bills.”
“I think it will be fine as long as we offer some form of separation. A fence and locked gate or something between the two structures,” I said, pulling the property map from my purse at my side and laying it out on the hood of the SUV beside me. I rummaged through the unorganized, overcrowded bag to find a pencil, drawing on the map itself where a building and fence would go.
“A women’s shelter?” Scar repeated, his hand coming down on top of mine as I focused on the plans. “When were you intending to tell me about this?”
“I’m telling you now,” I said with a sigh, knowing from our brief conversations in passing that he dreaded the day I returned to work. He knew it needed to happen, had understood my job was something that mattered before everything happened with me.
He'd come around eventually. He didn’t have a choice.
“Butterfly,” he said, staring at me intently. “We should talk about this. You don’t need any more responsibilities on your plate. Fresh Start already takes everything you have.”
“I’ll hire another assistant,” I said, compromising with a smile.
“Or six,” Sadie muttered, earning a glare from me. I knew I drove the woman mad with my rapid-fire discussion and questions about the property and the plans we could have for it.
Planning something new made me manic.
“We’ll have a therapy center on site, and housing for women who are in transition and need a safe place to land. We can work in more outpatient services and maybe a rehabilitation center over time,” I said, pointing at the large building.
“A rehabilitation center?” Scar asked, his throat working as he swallowed. I turned to study him, touching a hand to his chest as I tilted my head to the side.
“You’d be amazed how many sexual abuse survivors turn to drugs or alcohol for relief. Having a safe place to detox could save their life. Accidental overdose—” I broke off the moment Scar’s lips crashed down on mine.
The firm press of his mouth nearly bruised my lips with how roughly he devoured me, uncaring about the audience watching us in shock.
“I wouldn’t be all that amazed, Butterfly,” he said, reaching forward to wrap his fingers around the charm I never took off. The knowledge of how little I knew about Scar’s past and the original owner of the necklace threatened to consume me, but I shoved it down and smiled up at him.
That was a conversation for another place and another time, when people weren’t watching and I had even the faintest chance of getting him to open up to me.
Sadie prattled on, discussing the logistics for the property and asking me how long I thought it would take to build. For a normal person, we’d probably have a good year before we could be up and running.
But for the Bellandis and Irina Ryan?
They’d have it ready in six months.
“You okay?” I asked, nudging Madison with my hip as we stared out at the property that would become so much more.
At what would become my legacy.
“Yeah,” she said, turning a smile my way. “Just distracted with school stuff. I don’t know how you manage to have all these plans in your head all the time. I can’t even get through Algebra II.” She laughed, easing the tension I felt that something was troubling her at school.
“Are you sure?” I asked, giving her another chance to talk to me. After what had happened to Zachariah, I couldn’t afford to miss something again. I didn’t want to pry, but just hoping she would come to me wasn’t enough, either.
The balance seemed impossible, because I knew what it was like to have things I wasn’t ready to talk about too.
“I’m sure,” she said, smiling up at me so widely that I had to sigh.
Being a girl on the edge of womanhood was hard.
* * *
