LIAM
Saoirse looks a little hurt at my tone. “You act like talking to me is such a terrible thing.” She pauses, looking up at me with those soft green eyes that seem made to weigh me down with guilt. “Is talking to me really so bad?”
“No,” I tell her honestly. “I just have a lot on my mind.” Unlike Niall, Saoirse should have no reason to pick up on what that thing is, thankfully. I can’t imagine her reaction if she knew that another woman is on my mind.
“Business?” Saoirse’s voice is quiet and even, nonplussed by my answer.
“Yes.” I glance away from her, over the city. “I’m supposed to leave on a business trip in the morning, and I’m concerned about it.” I look back at her with a tight smile. “It’s nothing for you to worry about, though. I’ll be back soon.”Hopefully, that’s true. And I’ll deal with the consequences then.
“Before you leave—” Saoirse hesitates. “Liam, my father wants to meet at St. Patrick’s tonight. The three of us and his brother.”
“What?” I blink at her, startled. “Why the fuck would he want that?”
Saoirse flinches slightly at the curse, but she remains where she is. “To sign the betrothal contract, Liam. You’ve put it off this long, but my father—”
“Your father doesn’t run the Kings. I do. He particularly doesn’t run me—”
“He’s a powerful man, Liam. It wouldn’t be wise—”
“I don’t need you to lecture me or advise me!”
Saoirse drops her gaze at that, clearly wounded. “I’m sorry,” she starts to say, but I interrupt her, feeling chagrined.
“No, I’m sorry.” I take a deep breath. “I’m stressed, but that’s no reason to take it out on you.”
I turn away from her then, facing out towards the city as I rub a hand over my mouth. I’d shaved for the wedding, and I oddly miss the growth of beard that I’d started to accumulate while in Russia. It had made me feel older somehow, more in control.
Luca and Viktor’s advice last night comes back to me, urging me to sign the contract before I leave to find Ana. I know, deep down, that they’re right. If I run off half-cocked with the betrothal up in the air and my position hanging, I’m likely to come back to find a theoretical noose tied for me by the same men I’m meant to lead.
If I sign the contract, it will prove that I’m taking my position seriously and pacify Graham O’Sullivan until I can return home. It will keep an outright uprising from breaking out while I’m gone, that’s for certain.
It will also lead Saoirse on, a thing that I know she doesn’t deserve, and make marrying Ana incredibly difficult, if not downright impossible.
Long-term, it’s both the best and worst thing I could do. And I can’t seem to focus on anything for very long that isn’t the short-term goal of finding Ana.
Sign the contract,I tell myself.Sort it all out later.
It’s a bad idea, I know it. But I don’t know what else to do that still allows me to go and look for the woman I can’t get out of my head.
“We’d be a good match,” Saoirse says suddenly, interrupting my thoughts. She touches my arm gently, and I catch a whiff of her perfume, something soft and rose-like. “Liam, look at me, please.”
Reluctantly, I turn to face her, my entire body tense. I don’t know what she takes it as—maybe me trying to hold myself back from leaping on her with desire, which couldn’t be further from the truth. But she steps very close to me, raising her hand to lay her palm against my fresh-shaven cheek as she looks up at me with something dangerously approaching desire in her wide green eyes.
“We could be happy,” she whispers, and she goes up on her toes, her mouth moving towards mine.
For a moment, I consider letting it happen. I can feel the warmth of her lips, soft and plush, nearly touching mine. Her body is warm and supple; it would be slender under my hands but with gentle curves a bit more full than Ana’s. I imagine touching her breasts, feeling the curve of them in my hands, the nipples stiffening through the silk as she kisses me. I imagine her arching against me, and I know I should feel the same pulse of desire, should feel my cock starting to rise in response.
But there’s nothing. Saoirse doesn’t arouse me, and I can’t force it. It’s another reason to question the wisdom of the betrothal because few things would threaten my standing in the Kings as much as actually marrying Saoirse and then being unable to consummate the damned union.
“Liam.” Her warm, sweet breath is against my lips, her mouth nearly touching mine. “Liam, please.”
I don’t know what she’s asking for—for me to kiss her or to sign the contract, but at the moment, I’m not sure that I can do either. I reach out to grip her upper arms gently in my hands, and I feel the shiver of desire that goes through her. She looks up at me, her eyes wide and glazed with arousal, and I can feel her reaction to me, feel how much she wants me. This isn’t just Graham O’Sullivan acting through his daughter. Saoirsewantsme. She wants this marriage, and she’s going to fight for it just as much as her father is.
Her face falls when I move her gently away from me, taking a step back as well to put some physical distance between us.
“You can kiss me, you know,” she says, her voice slightly petulant. “You’re not going to take my virginity with a kiss.”
“I know how it works, Saoirse,” I say sharply, and regret it instantly. The look on her face tells me the last thing in the world she wants to think about are the other women I’ve fucked, especially when I won’t even kiss her. I run my hand through my hair, letting out a frustrated sigh.