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“Jesus,” I muttered.
“When I confronted her about it, she got defensive,” Ava murmured sadly. “And every time I try to bring it up to Liam, he shuts me down. Doesn’t listen to me. It’s like he’s completely blind when it comes to Marianne.”
Her life was a real-life soap opera. A Korean drama. A mafia romance. There were more moving parts than I could keep track of, and part of me wanted to reach out and hold her. I wanted to assure her. Keep her safe. This sudden flare of protectiveness I’d never felt before took hold of me.
With Dalia, I’d never been allowed to be a true sister. Not that the spoiled brat or her demon mother would let me. Dalia wasn’t my sister, and I’d never felt a kinship with her. Not like I do with Ava. She was like a younger sister, even though we were pretty close in age.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, a lone tear tracking down my cheek as I took her in. This amazing woman had been through hell and survived. She’d been beaten down. Used. Abused. And she’d still come out fighting. “I don’t know if anyone has said that to you, but I’m sorry for what you had to go through. I’m sorry no one was there to protect you or defend you.”
Her emerald eyes found mine, and she silently wept, her shoulders shaking with the force of her quiet sobs. Acting on instinct, I pulled her into me, wrapping her in my arms and soothingly rubbing her back.
I hoped it was soothing. There wasn’t exactly a manual for this sort of thing, and I’d always been shit at comforting people. We sat like that for what felt like hours. Two damaged souls taking comfort in one another.
“They like you.” Ava shifted, her hand wiping at the tears that had dried on her cheek. “The twins. They really like you.”
I snorted in disbelief. “More like they like me in their bed.”
Ava sat up, her nose scrunching in distaste as she looked at me. “That was not an image I needed.”
“But it’s the truth.”
“No, it’s not,” she shook her head.
Running a hand through my disheveled hair, I sighed. “I’m their prisoner, Ava,” I reminded her. “They don’t talk to me about anything. Don’t ask about what I like or don’t like. They don’t tell me about themselves besides random stories here and there about growing up. Hell, I don’t even know their favorite colors or how old they are.”
“Are those things really important, though?”
“Uh…” I wasn’t sure how to answer that. Of course they were important. Right? How else did you get to know someone? Wasn’t that how you learned about the ones you wanted to be with? By knowing that they seemed to both favor a dark maroon that brought out the green in their eyes. The way they vehemently refused to put cream or sugar in their coffee. Seamus seemed to thrive off verbal praise, while Kiernan was more about subtle touches.
They were hard, sometimes exacting in the way they dealt with their men, but they were fair, listening to the complaints of their people. I’d heard them on video calls countless times, checking in with their lieutenants, inquiring about the community. They were caring and passionate.
“You know more about them than you think you do.” Ava grinned cheekily. “One of the first things I learned from my asshat of a husband is that words are nothing more than wasted air. Pretty lies wrapped up in decadent packaging. What matters are the actions. Their touches. Their smiles. Your mind pays attention to them, even if you think it doesn’t. They might not ask, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t paying attention.”
Now I was the one crying.
Stupid tear ducts.
Stupid Irish Yoda.
22
Istayed in the spare room long after Ava left, curled up on the bed as I stared out the window facing the main street. Tomorrow night was the night, and a pit of unease had begun to grow in my stomach. The twins had been gone all day on business, muttering about taking care of a few loose ends before the gala.
Ava’s words stayed with me as I watched the sun sink behind the steel trappings of the city. Was anyone looking for me? Ever since I could remember, I’d been obsessed with working. Making my own way. I’d graduated from high school at sixteen. College by nineteen, and I’d become one of the city’s leading reporters by the time I was twenty-two.
The signs were all there. I’d just continually ignored them.
For years, I’d pushed myself, and for what? It never brought me any joy. I did it to get out from under my father and away from Drew. As much as I had wanted the arrangement to work, I’d known in my soul, all along, that it wasn’t a right fit. Even if I’d done everything right—married him and been his trophy wife—he still would have wound up in bed with Brittany. Because that was the type of man he was.
The last week had shown me things I’d never have found if Seamus and Kiernan hadn’t kidnapped me. They opened my mind to what I’d been missing.
Me.
For so long, I’d done nothing but live in the shadow of my father and stepmother. Shunned and kept away simply for being born. I was a mistake, and I’d let that dictate my life. I may have won my small freedoms, but now, away from the influence of my family, I realized that I hadn’t won those. They’d allowed them because they were useful.
Drew was meant to be my escape. Even if he’d been arranged by my father, it was still more freedom than I’d ever had. But, in reality, he’d been another trap set to keep me subdued. The only thing that had saved me was his desperation to get out from under his father.
I’d always been a pawn, and I hated that I never truly noticed that nothing was my decision.
