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Liam stirs next to me, opening one eye and looking over at me. “Good morning,” he says raspily, and my heart turns over in my chest. It’s the first time we’ve woken up like this together, and at this moment, I want to do it every day forever. I want to see him look up at me, tousled and sleepy-eyed, his voice edged with that accent that fades sometimes and comes back in others, and I want to know that I’ll get to do it over and over again.
He made a mistake last night. So did I. But surely we can start fresh again. One more time.
Liam leans over, cupping the side of my face in one hand as he kisses me quickly, and I feel my heart skip another beat at the feeling of his lips on mine. They always feel good—right, as if he’s the person I’ve been waiting my whole life to kiss, and it was never quite right until now. I lean in, wanting to savor it, and he lingers for just a second before pulling back.
“I have to head straight out this morning,” he says, swinging out of bed. The black pajama pants he’s wearing hang low on his hips, letting me see all the smooth rippling muscle of his chest and abs, the deep cut lines disappearing into the gathered waist of the pants. He slips them off without a thought as he reaches the dresser, and I catch a glimpse of his rounded, muscled ass before he slips on a pair of dark grey boxer briefs.
It’s so casual, so domestic, that my breath catches for a moment. This feelsnormal,more normal than anything has felt for me in a very long time. It’s very easy to imagine this being our every morning, easy to forget all the obstacles still in our way.
But I told Alexandre last night I was done. I did everything I could to prove to Liam that I’m his—that I wanthim. My still-sore ass is proof of that, although whenever I shift and feel that lingering soreness, inside and out, it sends a pulse of desire through me. What Liam did to me was a punishment, but it also feltgood.
Liam will deal with Saoirse and their engagement soon. I believe that, and I cling to that thought to keep my spirits up, long past when Liam has left for the day, and I’ve eaten breakfast and done my stretches in the living room. I’m just getting up from my yoga mat, tucking strands of hair that fell loose back into the bun on top of my head—far messier than anything I would have gotten away with in my ballerina days—when I hear a knock at the door that sends my heart plummeting to my toes.
Liam wouldn’t knock, and I’m not expecting anyone. So unless he’s sent someone here to check on me or to pick something up—not entirely outside the realm of possibility—whoever is on the other side of that door is no one I want to see.
The knock comes again, harder this time. “Anastasia? I know you’re here. Open up.” Another hard, insistent knock.
It’s a woman’s voice. Saoirse. I’m certain of it, and I feel my stomach turn over with anxiety. I don’t want to let her in, but I’m pretty sure she’s going to stay there until I do.
So reluctantly, I walk to the door and open it, swallowing hard. I have a vague hope that it’s someone else—anyoneelse, but it’s not. The moment I see her delicately pale face and dark strawberry hair, I know it’s Saoirse.
She pushes her way into the apartment, barely looking at me until she’s in the living room. When she finally turns around, it’s to sink down onto the couch, folding her hands in her lap. The diamond and emerald engagement ring is still on her finger, glittering in the sunlight, and my mouth feels dry as I look at it. As long as it’s there, it feels like a symbol of the claim she has on Liam. A reminder that no matter what Liam says to me, no matter what he promises, he isn’t fully mine right now.
“We need to talk, Anastasia,” Saoirse says. Her voice is light and elegant, her bearing almost royal, her accent cultured despite the hint of Gaelic. She’s wearing crisp black trousers with a slim leather belt and a cream silk shirt tucked in, the sleeves buttoned neatly at her wrists and her red hair falling over her shoulders and down her back. She has small diamond earrings on her ears and no other jewelry, a slim black shoulder bag next to her, turned inwards so that I can’t see if it’s designer or not. Everything about her is understated but polished, elegant but unassuming. The latter, I can tell, is a façade—Saoirse knows exactly what she’s doing.
“It’s Liam’s business to talk to you,” I say simply, standing next to one of the armchairs with a hand on the back. I don’t want to sit down. I have the feeling that I need to stay on my feet, ready to flee, though I don’t know really where I would go. “There’s nothing forusto talk about, Saoirse. It’s between you and Liam.”
“See, there we disagree.” She smiles politely at me. “I don’t think you fully appreciate the situation Liam has put himself in for you, Ana. Can I call you Ana?”
“I don’t think my saying no is going to stop you.”
Saoirse raises an eyebrow. “There’s no need to be impolite. Here you are, fuckingmyfiancé in his home, and I’m not being impolite to you. I simply think that you don’t understand the gravity of the situation, Ana.”
“And you’re going to explain it to me?”
Her lips press together in a thin line. “Liam is an important man, Ana. I don’t think you’re overly familiar with the Irish Kings—or the rest of them, at least. But Liam is at the head of the table. That means something. And what it means—”
“Is that you think you’re owed him?”
Saoirse blinks. “Well—no, although it’s always been assumed I would marry a McGregor son. I just—” She clears her throat. “I’m not owed Liam, though marrying the head of the Kings is my birthright, as much as that seat is his. But what it means, Ana, is that he’s putting a great many lives, businesses, finances, the trust of his men, and even his own life in danger by insisting on being with you. By insisting he’s going to setmeaside. And I don’t think you realize that, or at least haven’t fully grasped it.”
I stare at her.His life?I don’t want to believe that. Ican’t. It seems so archaic, so insane to think that Liam could risk his life or anyone else’s by choosing to be with someone different than he was meant to.
“He’s breaking a vow, Ana,” Saoirse says calmly, and I wonder if I said some part of that last thought aloud. “A contract, signed in church, before a priest, my father, and uncle. That matters to the Kings. A man who can’t keep his word is no man at all.”
“He’s kept his word to me,” I say faintly. I don’t mean for it to hurt Saoirse, but I see the flash of it there in her eyes anyway.
“You don’t matter,” she says matter of factly. “Not to me, not to anyone in the Kings. Here you’re no one, Anastasia Ivanova. It doesn’t matter who you used to be. And it doesn’t matter what Liam has dreamed up to make himself believe you can be accepted here. You can’t.”
The throb of hurt that pierces my chest cuts just as deeply as Saoirse intended because I know she’s right. I don’t belong here. I have no one but Liam, and things have never been easy between us. If Liam decides that he’s risking too much, I’ll have nothing here at all.
“You should go back to New York.” Saoirse’s voice is almost gentle, as if she’s really just trying to help me do what’s best, as if she’s actually my friend. “You have friends there. If you care for Liam, you won’t keep putting him through this. You’ll let him go, so he can live the life he’s meant to, the life he was perfectly happy with before he met you. And you can go on to do—something else. Whatever will makeyouhappy. Just as long as it’s not here.”
I swallow hard, gritting my teeth to stay calm. “I’m not making Liam do anything, Saoirse. He’s a grown man. He doesn’t need me to make his decisions for him. He certainly can make those choices for himself and tell me what they are, which he has. Anyway,” I add, taking a deep breath and steeling my nerves. “I don’t know why you want a man who doesn’t want you. Isn’t it embarrassing for you to have to try so hard to get him to marry you?”
If Saoirse registers my insult, it doesn’t seem to faze her. She seems nearly unflappable this time, her expression calm and poised. “It’s not about love or desire, Ana. I’ll admit that I find Liam to be very handsome, and I want him as my husband. Out of the McGregor brothers, he was my preference, though I hadn’t thought he would be the one I would marry. It was a pleasant surprise. And I could love him in time, I think. Deep down, he’s a good man—just a confused one right now.” Saoirse smiles tightly at me, and there’s no humor in it. “But this isn’t about any of that, Ana. It’s about duty. It’s about what I was raised to do. Liamwasn’traised for this. He wasn’t brought up to be the heir, to fill that seat, but now it’s his, and he’s trying to make a go of it.Ican help him with that. My father has been the right hand to the reigning Irish King all his life. It’s all I’ve ever known. I was raised to be the wife oftheIrish King. Liamneedsme and what I can offer him.”
“He needs me too,” I whisper, wishing I hadn’t said the words as soon as they slip out. They feel too intimate, too vulnerable. But Saoirse has already heard, and she gives a short, bitter laugh.
