I could kiss her easily. A hand in her soft red hair, a thumb braced against her chin, my lips on hers. I’ve kissed dozens of women exactly like that. Saoirse should be no different.
But she is. Just as a kiss with Ana will mean something when it finally happens, a kiss with Saoirse would mean something to her. I don’t want to lead her on any further than I have to, until I find a way out of this.
I can see that she wants me to kiss her. It’s written all over her yearning face, in her soft gaze, her parted lips, rosy and matte with her lipstick.
A beat passes, and another, and Saoirse realizes that I’m not going to kiss her. She takes a step back, her cheeks flushing slightly.
“My father is going to want an answer about the wedding date soon.” Her tone is clipped in a way that it wasn’t before, taut. I’ve embarrassed her by not kissing her, by the silent rejection, and I can feel it in every line of her body, even with the space between us now.
“I can’t promise that a late summer date will work.” I can hear the resistant edge in my own words, and I know Saoirse can, too. “Maybe a Christmas wedding—”
“Christmas is too far away. My father won’t stand for it. And besides,Idon’t want a winter wedding.” She lifts her chin stubbornly, narrowing her eyes. “Putting this off won’t change things, Liam—”
“I need time. I have things that I need to get in order.”
“Oh?” Saoirse lifts an eyebrow. “What things are those, Liam? The Kings are your priority, aren’t they? They’re all waiting to hear why you’re putting off marrying the O’Sullivan princess.” She catches the expression on my face, her own lips thinning into an irritated line. “I’m not going to pretend that I don’t know who I am or my own worth out of some sort of false modesty, Liam. I’m what you need to secure a throne that you didn’t even want, but that your brother abandoned and your father couldn’t hold onto. Your family name is tainted, and you need to give it to me in order to restore it. I’m not going to play the innocent game where I pretend that I don’t know anything about your business or the inner workings of the Kings. I’m an O’Sullivan daughter, and I’m not an idiot.”
“I’ve never said that you were—”
“Then stop treating me like one.” A black town car pulls up sleekly to the curb, and Saoirse turns towards it, her green eyes nearly sparking with frustration. “I can only convince my father to be patient for so long, Liam. He’s pleased that I’m happy with the match, and that’s made him more patient than he might have been otherwise. But he’ll tolerate this only for a little while, and then there will be trouble that even I can’t put a stop to.”
“Saoirse—”
“Good night, Liam.” She opens her own door, slipping into the town car without another word and leaving me frustrated and angry, standing there waiting for my own car.
I’m cursing beneath my breath as my driver pulls up, and I sink into the cool leather interior, closing my eyes as I lean my head back.
Fuck.
I’ve gotten myself into one hell of a situation. I can see clearly that Saoirse’s patience with me is thinning, and deep down, I can’t blame her. She’s right that I need her as my wife, in terms of holding onto the Kings, more than she needs me. But that doesn’t change anything about how Ifeel.
As always, Ana’s face appears before me, unbidden. I can feel my own internal conflict boiling over, searing my nerves and leaving me horribly on edge, but how I feel about her is unchanged. I want her in every possible way. I’d marry her tomorrow if I could. I know that for certain, but I also know that she has a long way to go before she’s ready for that.
If I told her how I feel, in plain terms, I’m almost certain that she’d run back to Manhattan. What she’d said to me tonight only solidified that feeling, so far as I can tell. She’s lost, broken, and until she finds her way back, I can only see her running from me if I pursue her with any real intent.
The only way I can see to make it work is to give her space, room to heal while she stays with me, and time to get to know one another so that the connection we had from the start can bloom into something more. But just as Ana’s lingering feelings for Alexandre complicate that, my own engagement is complicating it even more.
I regret ever signing that fucking document, but I also know that I’d have come back to civil war if I hadn’t. Truly, I hadn’t had a choice.
Ana is all I want, and bringing her back to my home has only confirmed that for me. I’ve never liked having a woman stay over before, never enjoyed having anyone else in my space, but with Ana, it feels natural. It feelsright.
I want to take responsibility for her, for her to be mine, in every possible way. I want her to trust me, rely on me, and love me. As the car winds through the late-night Boston traffic back towards my apartment, I remember what Sofia had told me before I’d left Manhattan.
She’d told me that Ana hadn’t been capable of taking care of herself since she’d been disabled, that she’d struggled both mentally and physically with what had happened to her, without giving me too many personal details. Luca and Viktor had both warned me of the same—that Ana was deeply damaged, broken in a way that I might not be able to heal.
I don’t believe that last part, though. Her physical injuries are difficult, I know that. Still, I’ve also seen her walk under her own power now, and I know that a great deal of what’s holding her back is psychological. I want, more than anything, to help her through it.
As I watch the streetlights slide by, the car turning onto the road leading to my building, a plan starts to form in my head. I think of everything she’s told me about Alexandre, everything she’s said and done, everything I know—and I think I can see the way forward for both of us.
If she wants me like I think she does, it might work. It might be the path towards the future that I want for us both, a path towards her healing and us being able to set the past aside.
But she has to be willing, and I can’t be with Saoirse.
I’m going to have to find a way to break my engagement.
Sooner, rather than later.
13