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Callum had been shot on our lands because he had been looking for his wife. His pregnant wife. He had thought that we were harboring her. I was only a child when it happened. I remember watching from behind my mother’s legs as my father and Callum stood on the lawns. Mother had pushed me inside before it got too heated—it was one of my first memories of how a gunshot sounded in real life.
Could it be true? Had we harbored them and I have Sullivan’s daughter in my arms right now?
How can I even try to broach that subject?
I run my tongue along my teeth, hoping that this doesn’t go as terribly as I think it’s going to.
“There’s… a possibility that there’s some truth to this…” I hedge.
Maeve lifts her face, her eyes red rimmed and slightly puffy, though she’s certainly no less beautiful for it. “What do you mean?”
I swallow thickly. “What if… your mother lied to you?”
Her expression instantly shifts and hardens. She pushes against my chest to put distance between us and shakes her head vehemently. “No. Absolutely not. My mother would never lie to me.”
“Any mother would if they thought that they were protecting their child, Maeve.”
Maeve has always been important to me,I won’t even try to deny it. I didn’t lie to my mother when I said that I’ve always had feelings for her. I know that she’s never felt the same way about me, but now mine are so much stronger.
Knowing what it's like to be with her, to hold her like this, allowing her to find solace in my strength and closeness...I'm not sure whether I'll be able to go back to how we were. I feel responsible for her emotions. If I fulfill my promise and find out the truth of her mother’s murder, will she forgive me if it’s something she can’t swallow?
It isnatural thatshe believed her father was some sort of hero who passed away before she had the opportunity to get to know him; after all, it would be simpler to accept that theory than the alternative.
I know very little about Callum Sullivan, but I do know that he had a ruthless reputation. If this is all true, he’s already plotting to sell her off to the highest bidder to get the most out of a woman he’s never even met. She will never be anything more than a pawn to him; a poker chip to be played and traded as he saw fit. It doesn’t matter that she might be his flesh and blood. Ifhe is alive, if this is truly him, he has been waiting a long time to get his hands on her.
The car pulls into a stop and Maeve flings open the door and practically throws herself out of it. She doesn’t so much as glance back in my direction as she stomps off toward the house. At least she’s overcome the shock of the evening.
I trail after her slowly, letting her temper calm down as much as possible.
“You owe it to yourself to consider the possibility, Maeve,” I call to her retreating frame. It’s not like there’s anywhere she can go to truly be rid of me. I leave the car behind, my men will take care of it. Maeve’s safe here. Nobody can get onto my property without my knowing. If she’s determined to throw a fit this is the best place she can possibly do such a thing.
It’s not going to be an easy reality to face. I won’t push her much further on the subject until I have some proof. Until I know for certain.
“How dare you!” She shouts without turning. “How dare you suggest such a thing to me!”
The rage that she’s now directing at me will be more productive than crying. If she needs to be angry at me so that she can process her emotions, then so be it. I can handle it.
At least, I think I can.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MAEVE
On some level, I suppose that I should be grateful to him for turning my fear into anger.
Anger is something that I’m much more comfortable with. It’s familiar.
My mother always joked that I got it from my father because she was always cool as a cucumber.
My father.
The elusive, mysterious other half of my genetic code.
I don’t want to think about my mother having lied to me. She can’t have been wrapped up in all of his mob business. She justcan’t, it’s not possible. I won’t allow that to even be a possibility. She was a seamstress, she was bright and bubbly and always happy. She couldn’t be married to some scary mobster.
I storm up the main stairs toward Cristiano’s bedroom without pausing. It doesn’t occur to me that I shouldn’t. He might try to follow me. It’s only when I’m standing outside of the door that I’ve already started to consider my own that I pause. I can’t very well keep him out of his own room. My old room has already been cleared out and turned into yet another guest room.
I wrench my heels off of my feet and leave them on the floor. Then, I turn and head toward Ada’s room. She’s got to be feeling just as shaken up as I am. Honestly, I need her. I need somebody to talk to.
