I snort, shaking my head at him as I jerk away from Jacob, crossing my arms over my chest. “You just want it to be you that she loves,” I sneer. “You that I lose her to. Why are you even fucking telling me any of this? Just wait for her to come to you when I inevitably fuck up too badly to fix it, as you so clearly seem to think I’m on the path to doing.”
“No.” Niall shakes his head, wincing as he does. “I realized something today while I was with her. You’re right that I want her. I bloody love her, and I was willing to give up parts of myself, things I needed, to have her. But she’s never going to be able to give me even afractionof what I want and need, and you know why?”
He takes a step closer to me, his gaze fixed ruefully on mine. “She has too strong of feelings foryou. She lovesyou, regardless of what fucked-up arrangement the two of you came to over your marriage. It’s not fucking working because the two of you want each other and care for each other. You’re both just too bloody prideful and arrogant to give in to the other. She wants you and this family the two of you are trying to make, and I was never going to be anything but a stand-in for what she really wants. She just can’t admit it any more than you can.” Niall lets out another short, bitter laugh. “Honestly? The two of you are fucking perfect for each other. I wish you both joy of one another.”
He turns away, staunching the blood at his nose again before glancing back at Jacob. “Thanks for keeping him from bashing my face in, man. I owe you one.”
“Connor.” Jacob’s rough voice comes from behind me as I watch Niall leave, feeling as if all the air has been sucked out of me. I’d tried to beat him down, make him afraid, but it hadn’t worked. He’d told me everything I’ve been trying not to hear, and as much as I hate that it came out of Niall Flanagan’s fucking mouth, I can’t deny that some of it struck a chord.
I’ve been trying to ignore all of it, pretend that it will go away with time and resolve itself, but things are only getting worse.
“I’m at your side, no matter what,” Jacob says as I turn to look at him. “I’m your right hand, as much as Niall is Liam’s, and your friend too. It’s as your friend now that I want to speak.”
I let out a breath. “Go ahead.”
“You need to think about making peace with your brother. This isn’t about the Kings and what they want any longer. You say you’re going to change things at the table and make a difference in how it’s all run. Begin a new era. So start with this. Find a way to do itwithLiam, together. Put a bounty on any man’s head who tries to harm him, just as you’ve already said. Make it clear that to go against Liam is to go against you. You came back to take power, Connor. Use it to make things right with your family. Use it to start a new generation that does things differently. Just as you did with us, in London.”
His words strike me deeply, reminding me all too closely of what Kaito and Nobura said in Japan.
My father wished to make peace with his brother. Had Haru not come to him with violence and anger from the start, my father might have broken with tradition and found a way to share the role of kumicho with his brother. They might have started a new era of the Yakuza together.
CouldLiam and I find a new way forward? Could we work together as brothers, like we once did, instead of antagonists?
“If I make up with Liam,” I growl, narrowing my eyes at Jacob, “he’sgoing to be there all the bloody time.” I jerk my chin in the direction of where Niall just walked out. “You think there can be peace after what just happened?”
To Jacob’s credit, he doesn’t tell me I started it. He just frowns, considering. “What if Liam could be convinced that Niall could be better used elsewhere? Sent to do some other work for a while until things cool off? You’re not going to be able to get rid of him forever—and speaking plainly, youshouldn’t; he’s your brother’s friend. But you could send him to do some other work, get some space for a while. Let tempers settle and things even out.”
“Maybe.” I shrug, wiping a streak of blood off my own face. “I’ll take it under advisement.”
But as I head to the showers, the suggestion lingers with me. I left years ago out of anger and stubbornness, and all the consequences of that decision have come home to roost.
What if there might be another way of fixing it all?
15
SAOIRSE
While Anastasia is still in the hospital convalescing and Liam is there around the clock with her, we use that time to move into the estate. I already miss our comparatively small and cozy condo as the movers take our things over. As I get out of the car to look at the huge, sprawling stone house, I feel the smallest bit unsettled.
I grew up in a house like this; it’s nothing new. Butthisplace feels nothing like home as I walk inside, greeted by the butler and the housekeeper. The décor doesn’t reflect my taste, the interior feels vast and echoing, and as I walk up the spiral staircase to the master suite of rooms that are now Connor’s and mine, I feel like an intruder.
Someone has moved all of Anastasia and Liam’s things out to a different suite and replaced them with the furniture that I spent last week picking out. I’d made some changes to these rooms, replacing the floral wallpaper with soft dove-grey paint, the baseboards and moldings freshly painted. The mahogany bedroom set I’d chosen is all set up, the thick rugs spread over the hardwood floor and in front of the fireplace, the two blue velvet wing chairs with a soft pink throw pillow in each and cashmere throws over the arms set in front of the fireplace as well. I run my hand over the new tufted duvet, the woven throw at the foot of it, everything soft and textured. The room smells like the honey vanilla candles I like best, and I know if I go into the adjoining bathroom, it will all be set up to my specifications as well. I already know what it looks like from the pictures I was sent—marble floors, gold fixtures, a huge stand-alone shower, and a claw-foot soaking tub. Someone will unpack the boxes of my things later—my toiletries, my makeup, my clothes, and put it all away.
That’s the privilege I have. I’m beautiful and rich, married to one of the richest men in all of the criminal organizations here in the states, now that he has access to his family's money again. I have myownfamily money, in addition to that. I can have anything I want—except for the two things I want most.
My husband’s love and a positive pregnancy test.
I let out a sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed. I feel hollow and sad. Connor took my words to heart after the last argument. We haven’t had sex much this past week, kept busy and apart by his work and my business with the foundation and wildly differing schedules, but when we have, it’s been cold and rote again, with him barely looking me in the eye as he fucks me. For the first time last night, when he rolled me over and fucked me fast and hard, I didn’t come. I just laid there, wishing he’d get me pregnant already, so I could try to move on.
Now I’m here, in a house that doesn’t feel like mine, wondering if it ever will. If I’ll ever feelokayagain, happy, or if I’m doomed to always feel half-empty, longing for something I got a taste of and will never have again.
I want my husband. But it’s clear he’s made up his mind and doesn’t want me.
---
I spent the first night in our new home all but alone—that is, I went to bed early, worn out from the stress of the move and my complicated emotions—and I assume Connor came to bed sometime after I’d fallen asleep. When I wake up, the sunlight streaming in from the wide windows on either side of the bed, he’s not there, but the sheets are messed up on his side.
Back in our condo, all I would have had to do was go out to the living room or kitchen to see if he was still home. But in this house, he could be anywhere in a dozen or more rooms. He could be rattling around anywhere in the huge space, and I might not find him. We could probably dance around each other all day and never run into one another.