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“And in the grand scheme of things, does that fucking matter right now? There are lives on the line here. And we still haven’t found the prick who shut down our brothels, have we? Why don’t we focus on what really matters? Or is this your way of distracting me from the fact that your team can’t do their fucking job?”
He stands, and so do I. Lucky for both of us we’re interrupted by a knock at the door. At a time like this, interruptions are to be expected, but this is getting ridiculous.
“Boss?” It’s Scott, who spent the day guarding the study. “Just wanted to let you know I’m going off for the night. Marco’s already out here.”
“Thank you. Goodnight.” I straighten my tie, forcing myself to take a few deep breaths. That couldn’t have happened at a better time. It’s one thing for my brother to be pissed at me—and the same goes double—but I can’t alienate Jock. Not now, of all times.
“It’s for the best,” I tell him. “The fewer civilians we have around here, the better. As it is, I’m of half a mind to tell Nora to go stay at her daughter’s place for a while. I would hate to see anybody who didn’t sign up for this shit getting hurt.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” It doesn’t sound like he means it. I know he’s thinking about what’s best for the family, and he hates to think of the money I’m losing, but it was all hypothetical money in the end. Even I can admit that now. Delilah would have earned a pretty penny, but it’s all in theory until the money changes hands.
“And it isn’t like she’d be earning money right now anyway,” I remind him. “Not with her face all fucked up like it is.” Not that I know what it looks like right now. I’d have to set eyes on her for that to happen. I can imagine, though.
He only nods slowly with his mouth tightly closed. That tells me he has something he wants to say but knows better than to say it. For his sake, he’d better hope it stays that way. I’m not in the mood to be challenged. “When do you want me to facilitate this?”
“Tomorrow. I want her out of here.” It’s better this way.It doesn’t matter how you feel, you pathetic shit. It’s what’s best for her. You’ve already hurt her enough.
“Consider it done.” He makes a big point of checking his watch, like I need to be reminded of the lateness of the hour. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to call it a night. I haven’t gotten much sleep these past few days.”
“Of course. None of us will be much good if we’re all dead on her feet.” Instead of doing the smart thing and following his example, I go instead to the bar to pour a healthy scotch. This is the time of night I allow myself a break like this. During the day, I need a clear head. Hell, I do at night, too, but I’m hoping this will help me sleep. Something has to. Jock isn’t the only one burning the candle at both ends right now.
I go to the window, swirling the liquor in the glass. The grounds are crawling with guards as expected. How many times have I seen it like this? I remember looking out my bedroom window at night, no more than eight or nine years old, watching the men on patrol. Wondering if they would keep us safe. My father always promised if things got really bad, he’d send us away so we could be safe. But he never did, because it never got to that point. At least, not until a year ago.
And now here I am, watching the same scene. Only the men are different—that, and my location. Now I’m the one standing behind the desk, knowing I have these men’s lives in my hands. Wondering if I’m doing the right thing.
Aching from head to toe with need.
That’s new. I don’t know if Dad ever felt that way. Then again, he never had to force himself to stay away from the only person who ever offered him solace. A sense of being understood. Being seen, even when he didn’t want to be. Because I certainly never wanted Delilah to see me for who I am or for her to understand me. It just happened on its own without my trying. I didn’t guard against it because I didn’t think I’d have to. What is she to me? Nobody. A means to an end. I should have been smarter.
I should have done everything differently.
The hinges squeak only slightly, but the sound rings out in the otherwise quiet room. “Something you forgot?” I turn around, smirking, expecting to find Jock half undressed after returning from clear on the other side of the house.
Instead, what I see before me is what’s left of the girl I so stupidly endangered.
The sight of her takes my breath away, and not the way it did before now. I’m not awestruck by her beauty or consumed by desire. She doesn’t make my cock twitch, doesn’t leave me wanting to throw her on the desk and fuck her until I’m too exhausted to move.
Instead of fighting the urge to take her, I have to fight the urge to throw myself at her feet and beg forgiveness because dear God, look what he did to her. Look what I did to her.
“Are you tired of ignoring me yet?” She sounds the same. Just as full of anger and outrage as ever. If anything, I’m glad to hear it. He couldn’t break her spirit, but then I can’t imagine much that would.
“Have I been ignoring you?”That’s right, be distant. It’s what’s best for her.“From where I’m standing, I’ve seen to your care. I even agreed to let my brother bring a TV and everything else into your room. I’ve received reports from the men guarding your room, and they tell me you’ve been eating and drinking just fine. I just spoke with the doctor earlier tonight and he told me you’re doing well.”
She lifts an eyebrow, and damn it if something inside me doesn’t threaten to explode. But for the first time in days, the explosion won’t be a result of anger or frustration. Something closer to exhilaration is what I’m wrestling with now. There’s something about her that wakes me up, that touches parts of me no one and nothing else ever has. Just that slight lift of an eyebrow, that silent challenge, and my pulse picks up speed.
“That isn’t the same as coming to see me yourself.” She waves her hands on either side of her face with a little flourish. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen worse than this.”
She has no idea what a loaded statement that is. “Of course, I’ve seen worse.” Just not on her. Not on a woman I’ve cared about the way I accidentally stumbled into caring about her. I might as well have been the one to kick and punch and defile her.
“You’re looking at me like I’m some kind of monster.” She can sound as defiant as she wants, but it’s the heartbreaking note of vulnerability running under her words like an invisible but deadly current that jumps out at me.
“Forgive me.”
She lifts her gaze from where it rested on the floor. “For looking at me that way?”
Why does she have to do this to me? How is she even able to do it? My insides twist up and my mouth goes dry. All I can do is nod. It’s all I trust myself to do, even if that doesn’t begin to cover half of what I want to tell her. I need her forgiveness for so many things. Bringing her here, keeping her here, practically painting a target on her back. If it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t be here. She had already been through so much, and all I did was make it worse.
“You’re forgiven.” Again, she lifts a brow, like she’s waiting for more. But I can’t. I won’t. How am I supposed to let her go if I lose my nerve now and pour out my whole traitorous heart? No, it’s unthinkable. It can’t be done.
