“I want to make things right with Liam.” The words come out sharp and quick, to the point. “I want to make peace. I’m done with this.”
Viktor’s eyes widen even further, and he sets his drink down. “I don’t know if this is the time, Connor—”
“I say it is. I’m telling you out of courtesy before I call a meeting and tell everyone else. This is my decision.”
“You should think it through,” Viktor cautions, but I shake my head.
“All I’ve been doing since I came back is fucking thinking. Thinking about how towin, when what I should have been doing is thinking about how to heal the rift my father left—the riftIleft when I ran. I lost my father already. I’ve all but lost any chance I have to make things right with my wife. I can’t lose my brother, too.”
“You’re thinking with emotion.” Viktor’s voice is cool, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Think about what it will mean to try to make peace with Liam. Are you going to give him the seat? Let him hold it? Do you think the Kings will stand for that? You’ll have no power to make them listen to you.”
“The threat of violence is always power,” I growl. “But no, not exactly. We’ll find a way to share it. We’ll—” I run a frustrated hand through my hair, my thoughts muddled with sexual tension and angry emotion. “I’ll work it out with Liam. But I need to make things right with him. I’ve been going about this all wrong, and it—it has to stop. Now. Tonight. I’m done trying to fight for something I gave up a long time ago.”
I can see from the look on Viktor’s face that he’s not buying it. But I don’t care. Right now, all I want is to get out of here and back to my wife. I want to try to fix things between us before it’s too late, if it’s not already.
I’ll figure everything else out later. I’ll figure out how to deal with Niall and make existing around him palatable. I’ll come up with a plan for how co-ruling the Kings, a thing that’s never been done, is possible.
I see now where I’ve gone wrong in the past, so many times. I don’t know if I can fix them all.
But I’m damned sure going to try—and it starts tonight. With Saoirse.
18
SAOIRSE
Imeet Catarina at a late-night coffee shop that caters to sleep-deprived students near Boston University and those who prefer caffeine and a book to the bar scene. I’ve been here before with Maggie, back in our college days. The warm smell of roasting beans, vanilla, pastries, unlit firewood, and piles of books brings back a wave of aching nostalgia that I wasn’t expecting.
Caterina is sitting at a table in a corner, a steaming mug of tea in front of her. “Chamomile,” she says with a small smile as I glance at it. “Caffeine-free for the baby and good for me after nine p.m. Maybe I’ll actually get some sleep tonight, despite the children being here with me now. Sasha is a blessing, though, helping with them.”
“What’s going on?” I don’t bother ordering. I want to get back to the estate before Connor comes home. I’m too exhausted and emotional to deal with his accusations, to fight tonight. After what happened between us this afternoon and then my encounter with Niall this evening, I feel limp and tired, like I’ve been wrung out. All I want is to be left alone and sleep.
Caterina blinks at my bluntness, but unlike Sofia, who might have taken offense, she just shrugs and takes it at face value. She reaches into her purse and pulls out an envelope, sliding it across the table towards me.
“What’s this?” I look at it, confused. It’s sealed shut, and Caterina’s fingers linger on it, so I don’t immediately move to open it.
“I was at the penthouse, helping to pick up some things for Ana. Sofia sent me since she’s been staying at the hospital as much as she can.” Caterina takes a deep breath. “I wondered whether I should give it to you. I’ve considered myself Ana’s friend. But like you, I believe my duty to my husband comes first, and he’s chosen to ally himself with your husband. If this stalemate between the McGregor brothers goes on too long, it will get bloody. I have two stepchildren and another child on the way, and my stepdaughters have been through enough.Ihave been through enough. I don’t wish to see my husband embroiled in another bloody conflict.” She pushes the envelope the rest of the way towards me, lifting her long, elegant fingers away from it. “I’m explaining all of that so that you understand why I would give you such a thing when Ana is my friend.”
“I still don’t understand. Whatisit?”
“It’s a copy of the paternity test for Ana’s baby,” Caterina says calmly. “I haven’t opened it, and I’d ask that you wait until I’m gone. I don’t wish to know, and it’s none of my business. But depending on the information inside, it could help Connor. Strengthen his claim further, and delegitimize Liam. It’s your choice what to do with it.”
I blink at her, stunned.Liam doesn’t care if the baby is his or not.Niall’s voice comes back to me, the words I’d missed at first only to realize what he’d said. It feels like some kind of twisted fate that the same night, Caterina would hand me this. Possible proof that the baby isn’t Liam’s, if that’s the case.
Caterina is already standing up, leaving her half-finished tea as she reaches for her purse. “It’s your decision what to do with it,” she says firmly. “Yours and Connor’s. I don’t want to speak about it or hear about it again. It was a difficult enough decision in the first place.”
She starts to walk past me, then pauses, her hand resting gently on my shoulder. “These marriages are difficult at first,” she says softly. “Arranged marriages, for alliances and children. Mine was, too, at first. It nearly broke me. It nearly broke us both, if I’m being honest. Viktor is a proud man, and I have my pride and stubbornness, too. But in the end, we found love. And I’m grateful that we did.”
Her hand squeezes my shoulder lightly, and then she’s gone, leaving me sitting there with the envelope in front of me, holding information I never even knew was in question until tonight.
And now it’s in my hands.
---
Connor still isn’t home when I get back. I push all thoughts of what he could be doing out of my head—he’d said he was at a business dinner, and I don’t want to think otherwise—and wander into the kitchen. There’s a small wine shelf in one corner. I pull out a bottle of red without bothering to look at the label, find a glass, and wander into the informal living room.
It’s too warm for a fire. The room feels less cozy without one, but I sink onto the patterned sofa anyway, uncorking the wine and pouring a generous portion into the glass. With my other hand, I fumble in my pocket, unfolding the envelope and laying it on the coffee table.
I don’t know what to do about it.