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She doesn’t respond.
I chuckle, shaking my head. “I knew what I was doing last night. I knew you were still with him, that you hadn’t gotten a chance to call it off. But you took his ring off your finger, you climbed into my lap and you said you chose me. Then, you put his ring back on.”
My hand darts out, grabbing her by the throat, and just like I expected, her pupils dilate. It’s not from fear—I can smell her arousal without even having to spread her legs apart. She’s turned on with the threat I pose, but she’s not going to come. Not while she’s wearing someone else’s engagement ring.
“Let me make something clear,princess.“ I don’t say her nickname with the soft lull that makes it a term of endearment. It comes out cruel, as if she disgusts me. “I don’t fucking share.”
She sighs, her head moving back and forth. There’s regret in her eyes, and she opens her mouth, but ultimately clamps it shut.
“I meant it last night, Saoirse. You have a choice to make.”
“There is no choice. There never is.” Her hands rest against my chest, and she shoves me. “You’ve always made that clear.”
“I gave you the choice last night,” I say, raising my voice. I release my grip on her, and walk away. My back is to her while I head for the living room to find this stupid fucking cat.
She shakes her head. “It’s not real.”
I turn to her as she’s wiping a tear from her face.
“What’s not real?”
“The marriage. Callum arranged it. And I guess he was right to do so. The quicker I’m married, the quicker I’m away from this threat.”
“What?” I ask, my voice shaking just as bad as her bottom lip.
“Callum set it up.”
“Callum handed you over like a transaction,” I say slowly, determined to process what she’s telling me.
An arranged marriage between the Southie princess and the governor. A disbelieving laugh leaves my lips. Leave it to Callum to create a political connection. But at the expense of his baby sister’s happiness? I wouldn’t expect that from him. He’s never been one to force the way of the Mob into his sibling’s lives. In fact, he always encourages the opposite. So this news is a shock. One I plan to confront him about.
She doesn’t respond. I buckle down, determined for her to say it again. “Callum is marrying you off?”
She sniffs, wiping at her nose as she pushes off the wall. Down the hall, there’s a flushing of a toilet, then the trickle of running water. I turn my head toward the sound, drawing the gun from my hip.
“Hide under the sink,” I say.
“I’m not hiding under the sink,” Saoirse snaps, hurrying behind me.
“We’re not done with this conversation, either,” I whisper-yell.
My head pounds with the throbbing frustration that is the redhead now behind me. I should have cleared the apartment before entering, knowing the door was unlocked. It was fucking dumb of me, and I shouldn’t have let my frustration of the day’s events affect my ability to think. Now, I have to deal with the stubborn girl who won’t listen.
The bathroom door opens, and the barrel of my gun aims down the forehead of the person exiting.
“Scotty?”
I lower my pistol. “Darcy?”
“Darcy?” Saoirse whispers behind me. Her hands clutch onto the back of my jacket. “Who the fuck is Darcy?” she asks, her chin resting on my shoulder as she peers over me to get a look at my guest.
I slide my pistol back into its holster. Darcy Gonzalez heads down the hall, her dark hair curled, and makeup done. Louis’ wife doesn’t look like the broken widow I left in Virginia. Her face has a glow to it, and she smiles widely. Gone is the dark sadness that clouded her blue eyes as she grieved my late friend.
“How’d you get in here?” I ask, reaching behind me to grab Saoirse’s hand. I tuck her into my side.
Darcy’s eyes fall to Saoirse, then snap back to me. She smiles. “Your friend, Finn, let me in.”
I don’t move, my head tilted as I assess why she’s here. When I had left her a few weeks ago, she was doing better, ready to tackle trying to go back to work and get on with life as best she could. That meant me coming back to Boston.
