Chapter 18 Maeve #2
I swallow hard, feeling my throat tighten.
“I know enough,” I say slowly. “I know Siobhan was killed because Rocco De Luca wanted to get to Ronan O’Malley.
My father died of illness not long after.
And I know Desmond was killed because he…
” I take a breath. “He tried to kill Ronan and hurt his sister.”
“Your sister had an affair and was murdered while at her second home with her lover,” Connor says, his voice toneless.
“Your brother tried to kidnap, forcibly marry, and rape Annie O’Malley and then tried to kill her, her brother, and the man who inherited from Rocco.
Your family has done things that would see other names wiped clean from the board, their assets absorbed and their line ended.
” He pauses, his gaze fixed heavily on me.
“But we’ve given you a second chance, Maeve.
A marriage to prove that you are not like your family. That you can be trusted.”
The air feels heavy. I nod, forcing the words out carefully. “I appreciate it. Your… faith in me.”
“Tell me.” Liam cuts in. “Was the marriage consummated?”
My heartbeat feels too loud. I know that if they deigned to have me checked, I might not pass.
But telling the truth now will only get Sean killed…
and possibly me, too. “Yes,” I say, as firmly as I can manage.
On our wedding night, I almost add, and then I remember what Sean said about not adding details unless necessary.
Liam’s gaze searches mine, as if looking for evidence of a lie. I force myself to hold it, to not let him see my fear. “And have you had intercourse since?”
I nod again, feeling my cheeks heat. That’s fine, I tell myself. A little embarrassment will help sell it. “Yes.”
“And no sign of pregnancy?” Connor cuts in, and my cheeks heat further. I shake my head.
“Not yet.”
“Shame. You’ll have to rail her harder this month, Flannery,” Brendan cuts in with a lascivious smirk, and Connor shoots him an icy look. He quiets down immediately.
“This threat,” Connor says, “is because of your husband’s failure. Or at least, we suspect it to be so. A job he didn’t complete adequately.” He looks at Sean, and then back at me. “Now, it seems this man has targeted you. And your husband wants backup to help finish his botched job.”
“If he failed, then I’m sure it was beyond the capability of anyone to finish it,” I say flatly. I feel Sean flinch next to me, and I see all the faces in the room go hard.
The room goes very quiet. I've said too much, I know I have, but I can't take it back. And I don't want to.
Connor's eyebrows rise. "Defending your husband, Mrs. Flannery?"
"Yes." I lift my chin. "He's protected me at every turn. He's kept me alive. Whatever happened with that job, he made the right choice."
"The right choice," Liam repeats, his voice mocking. "The right choice would have been to complete the assignment."
“He’s done nothing but keep me safe since—”
"Maeve," Sean says quietly, and there's warning in his voice.
But Connor is watching me with something that might be approval. "You have spirit, Maeve. That's good. You'll need it."
He turns his attention to Sean. "We'll provide resources for tracking Brennan. But this is your mess to clean up, Flannery. You finish the job, or you face the consequences. Understood?"
"Understood," Sean says, his voice tight.
"And Maeve?" Connor looks at me again. "Brennan is targeting you to get to him. Stay close to Sean. Don't take risks. And don't underestimate what Brennan is capable of. He's already proven he'll use anyone—including his own family—as shields."
The words send ice through my veins. "I understand."
"Good. You're dismissed."
Sean's hand moves from my shoulder to my elbow, helping me stand. My legs are shaking, but I manage to walk to the door without stumbling.
We don't speak until we're outside, rain falling harder now, soaking through my coat. Flynn is waiting by the building, and he falls into step behind us as we walk back to the apartment. He hands Sean an umbrella, and Sean shakes it out, opening it to shield me from the rain.
The silence is heavy, loaded with everything that was said and everything that wasn't. I can feel Sean's anger radiating off him in waves, and I don't know if it's directed at the Council, at me for speaking out, or at himself.
When we reach the apartment, Flynn excuses himself, saying he has some calls to make. I think he just wants to give us space.
Sean closes the door behind us and stands there, his back to me, his shoulders rigid.
"I'm sorry," I say quietly. "I shouldn't have spoken like that. I know I embarrassed you—"
"You didn't embarrass me." He turns, and his expression is intense. "You defended me. No one's ever done that before."
"They were being cruel."
"They were being honest. I did fail that job."
“I’m sure there was a good reason why.” My voice shakes. “I’ve seen you fight… in that garage. You couldn’t… there must be a reason.”
Sean’s jaw tightens. “There is. But I should have done it, all the same.”
“Why?” I swallow hard. “Why are you blaming yourself for it? What happened?”
He dodges the latter question. "Because that's what I am, Maeve. That's what I do. I kill people. That's all I've ever been good at." He runs a hand through his wet hair. "The Council knows it. Flynn knows it. And you should know it too."
"I do know it." I look up at him. "But that's not all you are. You're also the man who taught me to cook last night. Who's teaching me to protect myself. Who's kept me safe when everyone else I've ever known is dead."
He flinches at that last part. "Maeve—"
A long silence stretches out between us. Sean runs his hand through his hair and sheds his coat, walking into the living room. I take mine off, too, and follow him. When I reach the window where he’s standing, I can see a dark, pensive look on his face.
“Sean?” I say his name cautiously, and he looks at me, his expression tight.
"I knew your family was dead," Sean says quietly. "But I didn't realize how traumatic it all was. How much you've been through. I'm sorry, Maeve. For all of it."
A sob catches in my throat, and suddenly I'm crying—really crying for the first time since Desmond died.
Sean pulls me against him without hesitation, his arms coming around me, and I bury my face in his chest and let it all out.
All the grief I've been holding back. All the fear and loneliness and pain.
He holds me through it, one hand stroking my hair, murmuring quiet words in Gaelic I can't understand, but that soothe me anyway.
"I'm sorry," I gasp when I can finally speak. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall apart—"
"Don't apologize." His voice is rough. "You're allowed to fall apart. You've earned it."
I pull back slightly to look at him, and his expression is so tender, so different from the cold mask he usually wears, that it makes my heart ache.
For the first time, it looks as if he’s open to me.
As if he’s softened in a way that he never has before.
The possibilities of what that could mean for us make my head spin.
"I promise I'll protect you," he says, his hand coming up to cup my face. "No one else is going to hurt you. Not while I'm alive.”
"Sean—"
"I mean it, Maeve. I swear it."
I realize, looking at him as he guides us to the couch and slowly sits down with me next to him, that I believe him. I really do believe him.
We sit like that for a moment, his thumb brushing away my tears, his eyes locked on mine. And suddenly, before I can think about it, I’m talking.
"My family was..." I take a shaky breath. "They weren't good people. Not really. My father was cold, distant. All he cared about was the business. And my siblings..."
I stop, looking at him. He doesn’t want to hear all of this, I think. He couldn’t possibly. He doesn’t care. But his face is still more open than it’s ever been before, his expression calm and quiet, and after a long moment, he speaks.
"Tell me," Sean says quietly.
So I do. I tell him about growing up overshadowed by Siobhan's beauty and Desmond's charisma. How they both had these huge, commanding personalities that filled every room, and I just... faded into the background.
"Siobhan was cruel," I say, the words tumbling out now.
"Not obviously. Not where anyone else could see.
But she'd say things. About how plain I was.
How boring. How I'd never amount to anything because I didn't have her looks or Desmond's charm. How I wasn’t needed because the family had her.
I was… an extra. An unnecessary burden. A part of the family that could fade into the background because no one had any use for me. "
Sean's jaw tightens. "And your brother?"
"Desmond was... complicated. Sometimes he'd defend me.
But other times he'd join in. Make jokes at my expense.
Let Siobhan tear me down and laugh along with her.
" I wipe at my eyes. "And my father just ignored it.
He kept me sheltered, kept me ignorant about the business, like I was a child who couldn't be trusted with real information. "
I swallow hard. “They just... kept me locked away. Like I was something fragile and useless." My voice breaks. "And then, after Siobhan died, my father wanted to marry me off to Ronan O’Malley. Her husband.”
Sean’s eyes spark, but he says nothing. Just lets me keep talking, as if we have all the time in the world, as if he wants to hear all of this.
"He's twice my age. And my father wanted to arrange the marriage before Siobhan was even cold in her grave.
" The bitterness in my voice surprises even me.
"Desmond talked him out of it. Said I needed time to grieve.
But I knew the truth—I didn't matter to them.
Not really. I was just... an asset. Something to be managed or married off. "
"Maeve—"
"And now they're all dead, and I'm alone, and I don't know what I'm supposed to feel." I look up at him. "Should I miss them? Should I grieve them? Because I do, but I'm also... angry. So angry at them for making me feel like I was nothing."
Sean pulls me close again, and I let myself sink into him. "You're not nothing," he says fiercely. "You're strong and capable and braver than you know. Your family did you a disservice, but that doesn't make you who you are."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it's true." He pulls back to look at me. "You've survived things that would break most people. You're learning to fight, to protect yourself. You stood up to the Council today—do you know how few people have the courage to do that?"
"I was terrified."
"But you did it anyway. That was brave."
His words wrap around me like a blanket, warm and comforting. For the first time since I can remember, maybe in my whole life, someone sees me—really sees me. Not as a burden or an asset or something fragile to be protected, but as a person. As someone with worth.
He cups my face with both hands now, his green eyes intense. "You are so much more, Maeve. So much more than you know."
The air between us shifts, charged with electricity. We're close, so close, and I can see the moment he realizes it too. See the moment he starts to pull back.
"Maeve, we shouldn't—"
"Why not?" I search his face. "Why do you keep pushing me away when we both want this?"
He closes his eyes, and I can see the war raging inside him. The want versus the guilt. The desire versus his conviction that he's not good enough for me.
"I'm trying to do the right thing here," he says, his voice strained.
"The right thing is being honest, isn’t it? About what you want. About what you feel." I lean closer. "I know you feel something for me, Sean. I know you do."
"Of course I do." The words burst out of him. "Christ, Maeve, I feel things for you I've never felt for anyone. It scares the hell out of me. You scare the hell out of me."
My heart races. I feel like I can’t breathe. "Why?"
He doesn't answer, just looks at me with those tortured eyes, and I realize he genuinely believes he's poison.
That he'll ruin me just by being close to me.