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“Ronan, ple—”
The subtle pop stops her mid-sentence. Eyes wide. Mouth agape. A red hole sits in the centre of her forehead, and she drops to the ground.
“You upset my wife,” I bite out before stepping over her body and securing my gun in my jacket. I all but rip the door off its hinges when I head to return inside. Cara is standing, waiting in the corridor having followed me, and her eyes drop to the body on the floor behind me.
“No!” she chokes, stepping forward.
“Too late.” Gripping her jaw, I pull her face to mine. Her lashes are wet, and she is shaking her head in shock. “She upset you.”
“You upset me,” Cara whispers, her full lips twisted in sadness. She looks so much younger when she isn’t spitting fire. I remind myself she is barely in her twenties.
“I did.” Her eyes snap to mine, surprised by my honesty. “And I’ll only ever be the one to. She had no right to come here.”
“I want to go back to the estate,” she whispers. I catch Aidan over her shoulder and nod for him to take her home. He moves to secure her elbow and steer her away.
It’s several minutes before I return to the party. Connor is speaking with Olson, his eyes fixed on Lola nursing a drink as some schmuck tries to woo her. He gives me a small nod, and I approach her and step in front of the other man. “Let me get you a top up,” I rumble, nodding towards the bar. The man leaves, and Lola looks around for Cara. Before she asks, I say, “She went home. She’s not…adjusting well.”
“She feels like an outsider.” Lola brushes the topic gently, her eyes dipped to not aggravate me. Dipped because they see too much, and we now know her secret.
“She is an outsider.”
“She could be your biggest asset. Give her time.” Lola smiles wryly as her drink is pushed towards her.
“And what about you, Lola Sinclair? Are you going to be my boss's biggest asset?” Resting my forearms on the bar, I watch as her cheeks heat. Her throat works before she takes a small sip of her drink.
“Connor is—”
“Stupid where you’re concerned,” I huff. “Unpredictable, more fucked up. Think you can handle that?” Her fingers shake, and she flicks a cautious look my way. Seeing Cara’s reaction and having to deal with her emotions and Simone only aggravate me further at having to marry. It’s down to the blonde woman at my side, staring innocently at my boss. “He is in love with you. That man loves nothing, and yet he would massacre every living being to have you,” I grunt, lifting my drink. “Lucky you.” I give a humourless laugh.
“I didn’t ask for this,” Lola exclaims softly.
“Well, tough shit, it’s what you got. We all have to compromise to please him,” I spit, frustrated as her eyes tighten in confusion, then widen when realisation dawns. “Welcome to the dark side, doll.” I abandon my drink and leave her at the bar. Deacon idles by, watching her from the other side, narrowing his eyes at me. I shake my head and move to shadow Connor.
We move to a more private setting, Connor and Olson talk business, and I lounge in my chair, contemplating all the ways I can make Cara my asset when Aidan calls an hour later.
“Yes?”
“We have a problem. Someone has breached the estate again. A guard was shot. We’re locked down, but we can’t find the intruder.”
I have the strangest notion to ask about Cara, but I grit my jaw and ask for access to the security footage for Connor. I inform my boss, muttering quietly in his ear. With a strained smile at the aging man sitting across from us, Connor excuses us, and we drive back to the manor.
“What do we know?” Connor demands information from Aidan and the guards who await us in the foyer. Everyone is rounded up, but I can't see my Cara anywhere.
Fuck.
“Where the fuck is my wife?” I seethe as the guards wilt before me.
I jog up the stairs and stalk down the hall towards my quarters. I burst through the door. It’s empty, but the sound of sloshing water and moans have me eating up the carpet and stalking into the bathroom.
Visions of my wife with another man devour all rational thought. Still pent up from Simone, I raise my gun to end whatever is happening on the other side. I kick it open and the masked intruder snaps to look up at me, his hands pulling on some cord, his foot planted on Cara’s back as she gurgles and flays in the bathtub. Bloody water splashes, and the masked man rushes for the window. Two loud bangs, and he drops forwards, his blood diluting on the water-logged floor.
“Cara!” I rush to her, gripping her arm and hauling her from beneath the water.
She pushes up; her face a mixture of fear and relief as she drags in lungfuls of air.
Spluttering, she rolls out the side and lands on the floor with a splat, her hands yanking at the rope around her neck.
“Breathe, it’s okay, just breathe.” I unravel the twine and rub her back as she gasps loudly. Her hair is plastered to her face, and I try to wipe it away, but she screams, scrambling back as her mouth wordlessly opens, trying to bring air into her lungs. “It’s me. It’s Ronan.” My tone is soothing, calm. Two things which I am not. “It’s me, doll, I’m here.”
