Page 47 of The Celtic Resolution
“I’ll tell them the truth, I swear! Just with the wedding and everything, Saoirse please?—”
“Don’t fucking say my name,” I spit. “You’ve fucked me. You’ve so royally fucked me and my entire family. Stay the fuck away from me.”
“I’ll fix this! I swear, Saoirse. I swear. I just got overwhelmed and I wasn’t thinking?—”
“Fuck you, it’s too late for your excuses! If I see your fucking face again after today, I’ll kill you. Understand? I’ll fucking kill you!”
21
BRUNO
What have I done?
In the heat of the moment, telling my father everything about Saoirse and my investigation was amazing. I felt like I was ten years old again, telling him all about the fantastic things I did at school that day. But his reaction was anything but the thankful warmth I hoped for. It wasn’t even the cold praise that I expected for watching his back.
No, he was angry.
But not at me, and each time I think back to that moment, I feel guilty. At the time, all I felt was relief that he wasn’t angry atme, when I should have been angry in turn. He immediately turned on Saoirse and accused her of being the one who started the trouble in the first place. In my father’s eyes, Saoirse is vermin who has her claws into some truly seedy parts of the underworld and has faked this entire investigation to ensure that all eyes are on the Italians rather than the Irish. Each time I try to tell him he’s wrong and that I went to her, he won’t listen. He doesn’t care that I first heard about these crimes while in prison, he’s adamant it’s all part of her plan.
He then accused her of targeting me because she knew I would be the weak outsider, which felt like a mild insult but I didn’t have space to tell him that the only reason I’m an outsider is because he closed down on me years ago to the point that I went toprisonto try and earn back his love.
Last week was hell. My talk with my father exploded into an emergency meeting with Rocky who, at first, seemed completely disbelieving of the tale my father spun about Saoirse and the Irish. But the fervor with which he spoke and the way he presented what I’d told him had even me believing it for a moment.
Have I been tricked this entire time? Did I stumble upon a human trafficking circle in Irish hands and the only reason Saoirse teamed up with me was to keep me on the wrong track? Has it been a ploy thisentiretime?
By the time the meeting was over and Rocky had ordered us to cut ties with the Irish until after the wedding, I almost believed it. Until I was back in my motel room resting against a pillow that still smelled like her.
Like Saoirse.
How on earth did all that happen? Why did I open my big mouth? Surely I’m not so starved of my father’s approval that I threw Saoirse under the bus at the first chance? I didn’t mean it to happen the way it did. When sleep didn’t come, I tried to contact my father and set the record straight but too much was already in motion.
I planned to talk to her before the wedding but she turned up late, and by then, it was all out in the open.
A half-truth that’s destroyed the peace between the Italians and the Irish. The betrayal in her eyes stung worse than a thousand blades but more than that, the hurt on her face killed me. After they left, I tried my hardest to set the record straight.
But no one was listening.
Every time I try, I’m met with sympathy as if I’m just the dumb guy who Saoirse took for a ride. The whispered threats and distrust of the Irish spread like wildfire and no one gives me enough time to explain myself. Rocky and Sarah still go on their honeymoon and Matteo vanishes to Italy to attend to some overseas trouble, which leaves my father in charge. He’s under strict orders not to act against the Irish in anything other than a retaliatory nature until Rocky returns, but that hasn’t stopped him from quickly becoming king of the mountain.
At least he’s letting me stay at the Manor for a while.
“Dad?” I knock softly on the door to his study and hold my breath while waiting for him to hang up his call. He doesn’t speak. He merely looks at me and then makes a committal noise in the back of his throat as he hangs up.
“Enter.”
“Dad, I want to talk to you about Saoirse.”
“Not this again,” he snaps. “Anyone would think you’re in love with that damn girl.”
We both pause and an unexpected pull of tension works through my chest. Domenico looks up and his eyes narrow.
“You’re not, are you?”
“No,” I reply quickly.
His expression doesn’t change. “Fucking hell. You are.”
“No, I’m not!” My voice pitches slightly and my cheeks warm at how infuriating that is to my ears. I haven’t had much time to process exactly how I feel for Saoirse other than admiration and one hell of a crush, but love? No. Not a chance.
