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“With your father dead, there are complications that need to be dealt with. Marcus has a bone to pick with anyone with the Kane name. He’s not going to let you live if it means you’re a potential threat of him taking over the rubble of an empire your father left behind.”
Hell fury whips up behind Katriona’s thick lashes, and I’m momentarily drawn into the firestorm.
Her brows pinch together. “No one lets or keeps me from doing anything I want. Who the hell do you think you are, Sylan Ward? Are you wanting to take over my father’s whatever it is? Empire? What the hell does that mean, anyway? Are you going to take what you want from me before that asshole Marcus can? Is that why I’m here?”
She jabs a finger at my chest and I have to say, I prefer her pissed off rather than sad.
“I have news for you, you can have it. I want nothing from that man. Not even an apology. You all can fight to your heart's content. I want nothing from any of you. Now if you can please take me back to my life, I’d like to get on with what’s left of it.”
The fire in her words stirs one in me. Her eyes drag between Drake and me as she parts her lips, waiting for my next move.
I step in and I let her take me in for a few seconds before I close the distance between us until we’re breathing each other’s air. A hint of jasmine and honey hits me as she flicks a fallen strand of hair from her eyes.
I dash away her worries. “We’re not interested in what Kane left behind. Marcus will find out he killed for nothing soon enough.”
That sends her back a couple of paces. “Are you saying he killed my father?”
Drake mirrors my movements and we both take her hands in ours and my memory trips back to the last time we held her this close. Only Grey had been with us then.
“That’s exactly what he’s saying, sweetheart.”
Drake’s words dissipated some of her anger. “I thought...”
“...that we had something to do with it,” I cut in.
She nods. “And that I was next, honestly. What happened to Grey. It was my fault.”
She turns to look at Drake and strokes a finger over the jagged scar running the length of his right cheek. Damn near took his eye out. “It’s all my fault. Had I not come to work at your club, being the daughter of him...just existing has put a lot of people in danger.”
Drake grunts. “And I thank whatever god is out there for you every day.” Drake, the fucking romantic poet, has her full attention and watching her take in the truth of my friend's words has me questioning my entire life. Are we bringing her into the fold for her safety or because we’re bastards and want her all to ourselves?
Both?
“I told you on the ride over here, you were safe with me. With us.” Drake holds her hand over his heart.
I brush aside a few stubborn strands of her long hair. Everything about her is soft like a rose petal and chilled beneath my light touch.
When we don’t offer a deeper answer, she continues, the savagery of her tone slowly bleeding away to sadness.
“I’m sorry about Grey. You should have left me to just fade away. Forget about me. I don’t belong in this world. My father knew it. Maybe he was actually looking out for me in his own twisted way.” I hear frustration peeking through and rightly so.
She glances nervously between us.
Drake pulls her hand to his mouth and places a kiss on each knuckle.
“You’re here because this is where you belong. Don’t let that man’s twisted mind poison your sweet soul.”
Her cheeks flush and she slides the plumpness of her bottom lip between her teeth.
I look away. Last time she did that we nearly devoured her with our kisses. Grey would kill us if he could see us barely hanging on with her between us like this.
A look over her head at Drake and his darkened expressions says he’s feeling the same plight I am, but we have a lot to go over before morning comes. Since hauling her off to bed isn’t the best foot forward, I settle for the second-best thing for now. I slip my suit jacket off and wrap it around her trembling shoulders, taking comfort my body heat is now warming her.
I’m not seeing things when I see her shoulders relax a fraction or when she buries her hands in the dark cloth and inhales my scent.
That one action makes my already hard cock twitch.
“Mo chroí,” I whisper before I can help myself. My heart.
