“Aye,” I mutter, angry all over again. “But it fuckin’ feels good to say it.”
---
Post-shower, Niall and I go to our favorite pub a few blocks down, one of the true authentic Irish spots. We find a table towards the back, each ordering a beer and a plate of boxty to share, and Niall looks at me as the server walks away, his blue eyes keen.
“This situation you’ve gotten yourself into.” He pauses, considering, and I narrow my eyes at him.
“If you’re going to lecture me again,” I tell him sharply, “you can go off to the bar and drink your beer there, because I’m in no mood to hear it.
“No lecture.” Niall taps his fingers against the table. “But you need a plan, aye? So far as I can see, you don’t have one, except put Graham O’Sullivan and his daughter off as long as possible. And from the conversation I heard today, you’re well and truly running out of time on that front.”
“Aye.” I rub my hand over my mouth. “I don’t know what to fuckin’ do about it though, short of telling him flat out that I intend to break the contract. And you know I can’t do that.”
“It wouldn’t be wise,” Niall agrees. “You’ll need a better plan than that if you don’t want to join your father and bastard half-brother in the ground.”
“Don’t talk to me about Franco.” I nod gratefully at the server as she brings us our beers and food, and I catch Niall eyeing her as she walks away. She’s pretty enough, I have to admit, a curvy brunette with a nice face and a round ass, but not even the sight of her walking away with a sway in her hips does a thing to entice me.
Apparently, I’ve lost the ability to be aroused by any woman except Ana.
“What I wouldn’t do to get both of my hands on that round peach,” Niall says, watching her until she disappears around the bar. “I’ve been so busy cleaning up after your messes while you gallivanted around the world, I’ve hardly had a chance to get my cock wet these past weeks.”
“Don’t go blaming me if you can’t close the deal.” I take a long draught of my beer, glancing at the food. Normally I’d be starving after a workout like the one we just finished, but between the meeting with the Kings and all the talk of Saoirse and my impending wedding, I don’t feel much like eating.
“And here you are, withtwowomen begging to ride you.” Niall snorts, picking up his own beer. “Or at least, I assume the ballerina feels the same way you do?”
“You’re digging an awful lot for a man who claims to think I’m being a fool.” I glance at him. “Why so curious about Ana?”
Niall frowns, taking a deep drink and setting his pint back down. “Truthfully?” He shrugs. “I want to know what it is about this girl that would make you risk so much. She’s beautiful, aye. But so is Saoirse. She seems sweet enough, earnest, but Saoirse is sweet too, and polished, an elegant wife for the leader of the Kings, an Irish princess in truth. And yet this ballerina has you so twisted up that you’d—”
“We’ve had this conversation before.”
“Aye, but you’ve yet to make me understand why.”
“Do I need to?” I glare at him, my frustration rising. “Am I not your leader?”
“You are.” Niall meets my gaze evenly. “But if I’m going to risk my own skin to keep it that way, then I’d like to understand what I’m risking itfor, aye?”
I grunt at that, taking another drink. I know it’s not unfair, what he’s asking for—an explanation. But I’m not sure I have one that makes sense, and I tell Niall as much.
He picks up his beer, eyeing me. “Try,” he says simply.
“There’s not much to say.” I let out a long breath. “It’s a feeling.”
“A feeling?”
“Aye. A feeling that she’s the one. A feeling that I get with her—that I’ve had since the moment I met her, at Viktor’s safe house in Russia.” My jaw tightens as I try to think of how to explain it.
“You sound like a fuckin’ woman.” Niall eyes me. “A feeling. And you can’t have this feeling with Saoirse? The bride that’s meant for you, the one that will safeguard your place in the Kings, make the life of every fuckin’ man who follows you that much easier? You can’t feel the same things?”
“No.” I shake my head, draining my beer and setting it down. “I’ve fucking tried, man. I swear to you, I’ve looked at Saoirse O’Sullivan and wondered why I can’t feel an ounce of the desire for her that I feel for Ana. I know she’s beautiful. I know she’s intelligent, educated, poised, a wife made for me in every way. And yet I can’t help but think that I’d get to the marriage bed with her and not even be able to summon the desire necessary to finish the job.”
Niall snorts. “You’re the only man in Boston, hell, the only man in all of fuckin’ Ireland to feel that way.”
“I know.” I rub my hand across my mouth. “You don’t think it frustrates me? You don’t think I know how much easier it would fucking be if I could just send Ana home and marry Saoirse? Iwantto want her, and yet, with Ana—”
A moment of heavy silence falls over the table, and I can feel Niall’s gaze on me.
“I want to protect her,” I say finally, quietly, looking down at my fingers tapping against the beveled edge of the bar table. “I want to keep her safe. I want to defend her, love her, cherish her. I want to hold her in my arms and shield her against anything that could harm her, and yet sometimes—” I take a deep breath, pressing my lips tightly together at the thought.