Page 66 of Unrequited
“Aye. You could say I’m in trouble.”
I swallow hard. Do I care that he’s in trouble?
“But there’s one thing you’re going to learn about me, lass—something I don’t think you’ve quite grasped in those last six months of our little rendezvous.”
My cheeks flush.
I stare at him, silent, waiting.
He reaches out, brushes a lock of hair from my eyes and tucks it behind my ear.
“I don’t care about being in trouble,” he says. “I care about winning. I care that my commands are obeyed. I care about my family’s lineage. Their safety. I care aboutyou,sweet lass.” He leans closer.
“When we get back to Dublin, I’m taking you to my personal home. Not a safe house. It’s a beach house. Private. Quiet. There, I want to spend time with you,” he murmurs, his voice suddenly warm. Dangerous. “I want to show you how a husband treats his wife.”
Ohgod.
He knows. He knows he’s the only man I’ve ever even kissed.
“I’m going to show you what I expect of you as a McCarthy woman,” he says, a wicked glint in his eyes.
A McCarthy woman.I’m nauseous. Literally, sick to my stomach.
“And once the word’s out about what I’ve done, I’ll need to come up with a strategy.” He sighs and looks away, his eyes wistful. “This started back at the Wolf and Moon, didn’t it? And if I’m honest? It started well before that.”
“What do you mean, Seamus?” I ask softly. Now that we’re alone, I say his name, and he allows it.
Did he bait and switch me? Pretend to love me, pretend to care, only to reveal the monster underneath?
What have I done? What has he done?
I think back to Morozov’s body. To the blood. To the ruin he left behind.
He killed a man just for standing between us.
Now what?
“Come here, darling,” he says, softer than I’ve heard in what feels like forever.
And my heart aches. Maybe, just maybe, beneath that cold, unyielding exterior, he does care for me.
Maybe this wasn’t just a political move, like I’d always feared. But he said those words. I heard him.
I told you I was coming for your sister.
Even Polina said it, that he told everyone he was coming for me.
This has been in motion since the beginning. But I don’t say any of that.
No. I keep it to myself.
I don’t trust him. Not now. Not ever.
He says I betrayed him, but just look, look at how this has all played out. I swallow hard as he reaches for me, pulling me gently onto his lap like I belong there.
“The next few months are going to be very difficult,” he says quietly, almost like he regrets it. “I have many things to sort out before we’re at peace.”
What will that mean for my family?
