We don’t speak on the drive to the museum where the gala is being held, and it reminds me of another drive, what feels like long ago now, Liam and I on our way to Viktor and Caterina’s second wedding.
It’s already packed by the time we get there, and Connor and I walk up the steps, his hand finding mine. I know it’s for show and nothing else, but it still makes my chest ache as we nod and smile, greeting others as we make our way through the crowd to our table. I recognize nearly everyone there from my time making these rounds with my parents, and it feels strange to be doing it now as a wife instead.
I can’t deny that it was a good idea to come. Connor hasn’t spoken to the Kings since his arrival, waiting for an official meeting of the two sides, but here he can speak to them casually, under the guise of politeness. I make small talk with some of the wives as they pass, and although I feel a tense knot in my belly all night, I know that Connor might actually be making some progress.
He says very little to me throughout the dinner, several courses of five-star food that I barely taste, and I try not to think about it.This is your life,I tell myself firmly as I pick at my course of truffled mashed potatoes and grilled salmon.You helped orchestrate this. You wanted this. It’s no one’s fault but yours if it’s not what you hoped for.
“Let’s dance.” Connor stands up, reaching for my hand as the music starts post-dinner, and I look at him blankly.
“What?”
“Everyone should see how happy the newly wedded McGregors are,” he says tersely. “Let’s dance.”
I let out a breath, but I know better than to argue with him—and besides, he’s right. The Kings want to see a strong, united family. Liam’s leadership is fraught with romantic drama and ill-advised marriage and pregnancy, if they can see Connor and I as a good, happy, steadfast couple, it will underline that he’s the leader they should have, the leader they were alwayssupposedto have.
And I hate it, because when his strong arms go around me on the dance floor and we start to move, my heart is beating wildly in my chest, every time he’s ever touched me tumbling through my head in quick succession, making me feel breathless. His hand on the small of my back makes me feel flushed and hot, and I curse the way it feels like we’re standing in the middle of a wildfire every time we touch.
The dance switches, everyone trading off partners, and I stifle a small sound of protest when strong, familiar hands touch me, and I realize I’ve been passed to Liam—without anyone meaning to.
“Saoirse.” His voice is crisp, his hands stiff, and he looks down at me with a cool expression that tells me he’d rather not be speaking to me at all, let alone dancing with me.
We spin around the room, and I try to look away, but when I look back up at him I see his bright green eyes fixed on my face. “Get him to leave,” he says, his voice low, and I blink at him, thinking I might have misheard.
“What?”
“Get him to leave,” he repeats. “Connor. Convince him to go back to London. This is a fool’s errand, Saoirse, andyouset this all up, you and your father. If it’s revenge you want—”
“It’s not,” I say sharply. “I don’t want revenge. I want to get past all of this.Iwant to move on with my life, not be caught between the two of you. If anyone should back down,” I say acidly, “it should be you. For Ana’s sake.”
Liam shakes his head, opening his mouth to say something else, but then the partners change again. I go through two more dance partners before I feel familiar hands on my waist again, and I look up to see Niall’s face above mine.
“Lass,” he murmurs softly, and I feel a shiver down to my toes.
“I—”
“Shh,” he says, his hand sliding down my back, moving us effortlessly across the dance floor. “Let’s not talk about any of it. I just want to touch you, Saoirse. Dance with you—something I’ve never gotten to do before. I want to remember this, just the way we are right now.”
I can feel myself melting into his touch, his words, sliding over me like soothing honey as we move to the music. When I catch Connor’s eye from across the dance floor, I can tell that he sees it too.
He doesn’t speak to me for the rest of the night, not when I end up back with him at the end of the dance, not on the ride home. We walk into our dark apartment, and halfway down the hall to our room, I feel his hands on my arms suddenly as he spins me around with uncharacteristic force.
My back hits the wall as he slams me into it, the taste of whiskey on his lips as he kisses me, and though I know he’s not drunk I have a sudden memory of the night he pretended to be William, the last night I felt any happiness with him. Something surges in me at the memory, hot and angry and sad, and as Connor’s mouth crashes down onto mine I feel tears fill my eyes.
I can’t stop them from sliding down my cheeks. The way he’s touching me now is everything I want, his hands hard and rough on my breasts, my waist, my hips, his hard cock grinding into me, his mouth devouring mine, all because he saw how I was with Niall. Because for all his protests, he’s fucking jealous, and he can’t stop himself from wanting to make me his.
But it’s not real. And it can’t last.
I let him kiss me, for just a moment. I part my lips for his tongue and arch into him, tasting him, breathing him in, feeling his hands bunch in the silk of my dress as he rocks against me, pushing my skirt up as if he’s going to take me right there against the wall.
I let myself enjoy it, for just one moment, and then I wrench away from him, panting as I duck under his arm and back away.
“What—” Connor looks at me, his eyes dark with lust, his cock straining at the fly of his pants. “Where are you going?”
“You can’t get me pregnant tonight,” I tell him, making my voice as cold and hard as I possibly can. “There’s no point, remember? So I’ll be in the guest room. Enjoy jerking off, Connor.”
His eyes widen, shocked, and he opens his mouth to say something back. But I’m already gone, walking as quickly down the hall as I can manage, leaving him behind.
It tears my heart in two, but I can’t do this anymore.