But what choice do I have?
“It’s done then,” Graham says gruffly. “Come along, Saoirse, there’s a flight back to Boston waiting for us. I expect we’ll see you back at the head of the table sooner rather than later, Liam?”
“I’ll be gone for a little while, starting tomorrow.” I force myself to meet his eyes, so that it doesn’t seem shady. “Business. It shouldn’t take too long.”I hope that it doesn’t.Niall can only stall for me for so long, and the longer I’m gone, the less the contract I’ve signed will hold weight. Graham will expect a wedding before the year is out, and I have no doubt that Saoirse will begin planning as soon as she’s back home.
Meanwhile, I’m setting off to find Ana.
“Be safe, Liam,” Saoirse says softly, pausing as her father starts off down the aisle of the church. “Come back soon.”
“I’ll do my best,” I promise her, feeling my stomach clench with the burning guilt of it all. She smiles at me, turning to follow her father with a sweep of her gown, and I stand there, feeling as if I could crumble into dust.
“You don’t look like a man about to be happily wed,” Father Donahue observes from behind me. “I’ve seen many couples pass through this church, some happier than others, but I’ve never seen a man look so conflicted about marrying a lass like Saoirse O’Sullivan.”
“Not you, too.” I rub a hand over my face, groaning. “I’ve got a lot on my mind, Father.”
“Another woman?”
The priest, as always, is far too perceptive. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“Aye, it always is.” Father Donahue crosses over to one of the front pews, patting the wood next to him as he looks at the altar, the glowing lamp hanging just behind it. “Come and sit for a spell, lad.”
“I’ve got an early morning—”
The priest gives me a piercing look, and I sigh, coming to take a seat at the pew behind him instead, for a quicker escape if need be.
“Is there something you need to confess?”
“Not as of yet,” I say defensively and then let out a long breath, running a hand through my hair. If there were anyone I could talk to without fear of it getting out, Father Donahue is the one, even more so than Max. He’s bound by his own vows to keep it confidential, and Father Donahue is even more trustworthy than most. He’s been the priest to too many men of the mafia not to know when it’s in his best interests to keep silent. It’s kept him alive through regime changes when many others might not have managed the same.
“You know Anastasia Ivanova?”
The question appears to take Father Donahue aback for a moment.
“Yes,” he says finally. “Not well, but I know of her. Through Sofia Romano, mostly—she brought the girl to me for counsel a few times, after—”
“After what?” I narrow my eyes. “I know she was hurt. Can you tell me more about that?”
Father Donahue shakes his head. “You’re asking a priest to break the vow of the confessional? Shame on you, lad. But then again, your father was no stranger to broken vows and lies.”
“I’m not my father.” I grit my teeth. “I don’t need you to tell me who he was, either. I’m well aware that he was a traitor, from the minute he put that bastard son in Francesca Bianchi’s womb to the moment he tried double-dealing with the Italians and Russians. He was nearly the ruin of us all.”
“And you’re setting yourself up to finish the job if you don’t keep the vow you made just there.” Father Donahue nods to the altar. “Don’t think I can’t see through you, son. I’m too old, and I’ve seen far too much not to know what’s spinning inside that head of yours. Your heart is with another woman, or you think it is—Anastasia Ivanova—and you’ve been thinking about how to get out of that betrothal contract before you even signed your name to it.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“So you keep saying.”
“She’s a captive.” I rub my hand over my mouth, letting out a frustrated sigh. “She was kidnapped in Russia, along with Sofia, Caterina, and some others.”
“Aye, I’ve heard about what happened.”
“She was the only one we weren’t in time to save. Alexei—the man responsible—sold her before we managed to break in. I don’t know where she is, but—”
“But you intend to find her. And what, marry her?”
“I don’t know,” I say sharply, the defensiveness returning to my voice. “Finding her is the first part.”
“And the betrothal a way to secure your position until you make up your mind.”