“Fuck.”
Niall’s voice echoes my thoughts when I’m finished telling him, his expression tightening as he shakes his head.
Ana is still in the bath, or at the very least, she hasn’t come out of her room. Niall is sitting across from me on the other leather sofa with his arms slung over the back of it, and he’s listened to every word I’ve had to say like a good friend should. He might technically work for me, my second-in-command, and we might often disagree on things like what I should do about my betrothal to Saoirse. Still, he’s the closest thing to a brother that I have.
And I trust him above anyone else in the world.
“Exactly.” I rub my hand over my mouth, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I can’t tell her the truth, Niall. I just can’t. She’ll go back to Manhattan. There’s no way she’d stay with me if she knew.”
“Maybe that would be for the best.” Niall holds up a hand at the instantaneous expression on my face. “Just hear me out, man. You want this girl, but does she want you? It sounds like she’s been through hell and back. You think that’s the kind of woman who can be the wife of an Irish King? Who can handle the way the other older wives will treat her? Blood runs deep in our world, and you know that as well as I do. The wives of the other Kings will know she took Saoirse’s rightful—as they see it,” he adds quickly—“spot as your wife. They won’t be so welcoming to her. Marrying you wouldn’t be an easy road for either of you. You say she deserves some peace after all this, but is that really what you’re trying to give her?”
It’s more words than I’ve heard Niall say all at once in a long time. I look at him steadily from the other couch, both of us silent for several long moments afterward, and Niall lets out a sigh.
“It doesn’t matter, does it?” He raises an eyebrow, appraising me. “You want her, aye? And there’s not a damned thing that I or anyone else can say about it that will make you change your mind. Her refusing you flat out would be the only thing that would do it.”
“Don’t you dare think of going behind my back and talking to her.” I narrow my eyes at him, and Niall holds up both of his hands, shaking his head.
“Hand to God, I wouldn’t dream of it. But Liam, man, I wish you could see and hear yourself, even just for a second. She’s got you in a vise, that’s for certain.”
I stare at him. Niall has always been plain-spoken with me, but this goes beyond even what I’m used to from him. “A vise, hm?” I give him a pointed glare. “I’ve given her a place to stay, that’s all. A place to recuperate, to—”
“A place to fall in love with you, to start to rely on you, so that when you ask her to marry you, she’ll accept.”
“I know you want me to marry Saoirse. Every damned Irishman in this city wants me to marry Saoirse—”
“This isn’t about Saoirse!” Niall fixes me with a heavy stare, shaking his head as he leans forward, his roughened hands clasped between his knees. “Fuck, man, you know how I feel about the O’Sullivan girl. I think you’re a right idiot for not falling on your knees in gratitude for the chance to marry her. She’s beautiful, elegant, well-educated, well-mannered, a proper wife for a man like yourself—”
“I don’t need you to extol Saoirse’s virtues again.”
“It’s not about her,” Niall repeats. “I think you’re doing her a disservice, but this is about Anastasia Ivanova and why she’s here. You’re so dead fuckin’ set on making her your wife, on being her salvation, that you’re not thinking this through or what’s best for her. And you’re not thinking about the rest of the Kings, either.”
“To hell with the rest of the Kings,” I growl. “They want to use me as their pawn in their own machinations, instead of their leader.”
“Thenbetheir leader.” Niall shakes his head. “Hell is certainly where a fair few of them would like to send you, at this point. There’s a great deal else you should be worried about right now. Half the table is pleased with the alliance with the Italians and the Russians, and the other half thinks we’re making deals with the devil. Just about every man there is concerned with your hesitance to say vows to the O’Sullivan girl. Our earnings are down, according to the man o’the treasury, and you should be seeking out ways to fix that.” He frowns. “There’s a fair few, Liam, who didn’t mind your father’s treachery with Franco because it would have made them rich men. And then there’s Graham O’Sullivan—”
“What about him?” The words come out curt and angry, my jaw set and every muscle in my body set. I can feel the anger throbbing through me, down to my bones, making my head ache with it.
I wasn’t fucking meant for this. This wasn’t supposed to be me. If my fucking brother hadn’t left—
But Connor is gone, and not a damned thing can change that. It’s up to me, the unwanted changeling, to carry on my family’s legacy. A legacy that never had time for me before I became the default heir.
“There’s reason to believe he might be reaching out to some of our suppliers privately. If that’s true, it’s a bad sign. It means he’s considering war against you—a civil war that could break the table and leave you with only a few allies truly loyal to you. And Saoirse—”
“Is the only fucking thing that would guarantee his loyalty.”
Niall nods. “I know that’s not what you want to hear, Liam, but—”
“It doesn’t matter.” I shake my head. “I’ll find some other way to get their loyalty. I can’t do it, Niall. I can’t.”
“Because of Ana?”
“You know the answer to that.”
“She’s not a proper wife for you.”
“I don’t care.”
The silence falls over the room again, heavy and oppressive. “You’ve got a long battle to fight, lad,” Niall says quietly. “You’re only making it harder on yourself. And for her—think of how she’ll be treated. The implications of making a woman like her your wife. The struggles you’ll both have to face after you’ve both been through so much—”