Page 98 of Wreck Me

‘What the actual fuck, Scarlett?’ James bites out, a vein throbbing furiously in his neck.

Sensing the seriousness of the situation, Madame Moreau steps away from Declan and reaches for her husband.

As if he can save her. Declan always used to carry a weapon wherever he went. I doubt he’s changed over the years.

‘It’s been a while, Scarlett.’ Declan steps forwards, his lips curving into a cruel smile. He unbuttons his suit jacket and sticks a hand languidly into his trouser pocket. ‘Our father said to pass on his regards. He’s up for parole. Good behaviour and all that.’ The threat is clear.

‘He’s not my father. And you’re no longer my brother.’ It takes everything I have to control the tremor in my voice.

Laughter rips through the air, low and callous and calculated. ‘It’s a fucking good job.’ His eyes slant to James, who is watching our exchange with an expression that could slice through ice. ‘If I was, I’d have to kill this prick for fucking my little sister.’

James launches himself at Declan, but Lucien and I grab his arms to hold him back. ‘Don’t,’ I beg. ‘It’s what he wants.’

Declan thrives on violence. Always has. Always will.

‘What I want is for him to rescind his bid on the Imperial Winery Group and walk away from the Moreaus.’ Declan’s steely eyes level at James.

‘It’s never going to happen.’ James’s tone is adamant. He smooths a hand over the front of his shirt as he composes himself.

‘Never say never.’ Declan’s tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth as his hand reaches inside his suit jacket. ‘I can be very persuasive.’

My stomach bottoms out.

My chest is too tight.

I can’t breathe.

Can’t speak.

Can’t even pretend to be okay.

I always knew this would happen. That he’d come for me. But I never expected it would be here, not like this. And now it looks like he’s hitting two birds with one stone.

Or one gun.

But when he pulls his hand out of the inside of his jacket, it’s not a pistol he’s clutching. It’s a lighter. O’Connors favourite weapon. I flinch. My shoulders are rigid. Every breath is a struggle.

Declan reaches into his pocket again, this time extracting a thick brown cigar. The type my stepfather used to smoke in celebration when he’d cut his latest deal. ‘Surely we can work something out. I’ve made it clear how much we want this.’ He glances to the chateau and the rolling vineyards beyond. ‘And how far we’re willing to go to get it.’

I have no idea what he’s up to, or why he wants this land, but I’d bet everything it’s not for the vineyards. Or notjustthe vineyards. It’ll be a front for drug trafficking. Or worse.

‘It’s not up for negotiation,’ James spits, folding his arms across his chest as the Moreaus and I wait with bated breath.

‘Everything is up for negotiation. Isn't that right, sis?’ Declan’s thumb clicks down on the lighter and a tiny flame sparks a thousand horrific imaginings of the night my mother died.

I wasn't there, but I saw the news footage of the distillery burning with her trapped inside. I’ve cried a river of tears imagining what she must have gone through. The pain. The fear. I’ve lived it with her over and over in my mind. And while she’s hopefully at peace now, I’ve never found that luxury in this life. Not until I found James at least.

And I’m pretty certain after Declan’s shocking revelation, he’ll want nothing more to do with me. It’s bad enough I didn’t tell him I’m an O’Connor at heart. It’s worse that I never told him.

I’m no better than Cynthia Van Darwin.

‘She was dishonest. I can’t stand dishonesty.’

I didn't lie exactly, but I certainly omitted the truth. And the only thing I stole is his heart.

James’s throat bobs and I hear him swallow. His narrow eyes are dangerously dark, except from the torrid gold flecks dancing around the edge of his irises.

Declan’s thumb snaps down on the lighter again and I jump.

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