Quinn #2
“Look, Quinn,” Daire says with faux sympathy and over-the-top sweetness.
“Just because you’re marrying Lorenzo now, it doesn’t mean that you’re anything other than a replacement.
You need to remember that. I’ll always be the one that he yearns for, the one that he would have married had Rurik and I not fallen in love.
You are and always have been second best.”
I can’t help but laugh. God, she really is a bitch.
“Laugh all you want, but it’s true,” she says, raising her voice. “Mam and Da prefer me, always have and always will, even Conn despises you, and then there’s Daithí…” The smirk on her face makes me want to punch her. “Well, he can’t stand to be anywhere near you.”
“If you say so,” I sigh, looking pointedly at my nails as though she’s boring me. The truth is, she's reminding me of something I've spent weeks trying not to think about. I was never supposed to be the bride.
“No one loves you, Quinn, no one ever will,” she says with glee, her eyes sparkling with joy, no doubt at the pain I’m in hearing her speak. “You’ll end up married to Lorenzo and know that he’ll never love you. You’ll die a lonely, sad woman never having felt what love feels like.”
“The fuck is wrong with you?” I hear the deep, angry voice of my brother.
I don’t lift my head to see him stride into the room.
No, Daithí’s voice gives me enough of a picture of what he looks like.
He’s angry, probably the angriest that I’ve ever heard him, and as much as I’d like to see Daire get shouted at, I’m trying my hardest not to cry.
"What?" Mam says, her voice smaller than it had been with me.
"Cut it out," he growls, and I raise my head to see him glaring at her, which is so unlike Daithí.
Mam's expression falters, and she glances at Daire, who has finally shut her damn mouth. "We were just having a chat."
"I know what you were doing." He glances between Mam and Daire. "Both of you. She's marrying Lorenzo Mariano in six weeks. She's going into his house, his world, with his name. The last thing she needs going into it is the two of you picking her apart."
"Nobody was picking anyone apart," Mam says, haughtily, as though she’s beneath being reprimanded.
"Mam." His voice drops. It’s low, and it’s filled with anger.
"I've been listening to this since she was twelve years old.
I'm not doing it anymore. If you can't find something useful to say to her, say nothing. How can you let your daughter speak like that to your other one, let alone the way you speak to her.”
“I didn’t want that one,” Mam hisses. “So I’ll mind you to mind your own business about how I treat my children.”
The room is quiet at mam’s admission. It’s one thing to know it but a whole other thing to actually hear it from her mouth.
"I'll remind you that I am your mother, Daithí. Do not push me on this matter," she says. Mam stands and leaves with Daire following along right behind her like a lost puppy.
Daithí looks at me, and I see the worry in his eyes.
"I'm fine," I say, before he can ask.
"I know you are." He rubs the back of his neck. "Doesn't mean it's not shit."
"Language," I say, my lips twitching. I’m hoping to ease the weird as hell tension.
He looks at me for a second, and then he laughs, short and quiet. Thankfully, he says no more about it.
“The ring is beautiful, Quinn,” he says softly as he presses a kiss to my forehead. “It does suit you because it’s beautiful,”
My throat closes as I try to swallow past the lump in it. God, he’s the best.
“Thank you,” I whisper, hoping like hell that the tears don’t fall. I need to get away. I do the only thing I can do. I hide in the library.
I hear the door to the library open and I raise my head from my book as I watch Mamie walk toward me. She gives me a soft smile.
"Miss Quinn, your father would like to see you now that he's finished with Mr. Mariano."
My stomach drops, it's instant. Completely ridiculous and yet completely expected.
"Okay," I say, placing my bookmark between the pages and closing the book.
Mamie hesitates. "You alright, love?"
I force a smile. "Of course." The lie comes easily, just as it always does.
She studies me for a second like she knows I'm not telling the truth, but thankfully doesn't call me out on it. "Don't keep him waiting."
As though I would. I wait until she's gone before I look back down at my book. I haven't done anything wrong. At least, I don't think I have. My engagement ring catches the light as I twist it around my finger.
Maybe it's about the meeting with Lorenzo, maybe Dad thinks I said something I shouldn't have, maybe Lorenzo told him I was difficult. Maybe... no, stop it.
I pull in a deep breath and close my eyes for a second, I'm eighteen years old, I shouldn't feel like this every time my father wants to see me, I shouldn't immediately start trying to work out what I've done wrong.
But I do. I always do. The truth is, Dad doesn't need to raise his voice, he never has. One disappointed look from him has always been enough. I smooth my hands down my dress before standing. Then I leave the library and make my way through the house.
The closer I get to Dad's office, the tighter my chest becomes. It's stupid, I should be used to this by now. But when Dad is disappointed in me, I feel it right down to my bones, not to mention, the fear that encases my chest as I wait to see if he’s angry, angry enough to lash out.
I stop outside his office door, and for a second, I just stare at it, and then I straighten my shoulders and knock.
"Come in."
I open the door immediately. Dad's sitting behind his desk, reading through paperwork. He doesn't look up straight away, so I stand here waiting. One second, two, three. My palms start to sweat.
Finally, he lifts his head. "Close the door and sit down, Quinn."
"Yes, Da." I do exactly as I'm told, like I always do.
Dad sets his paperwork aside and folds his hands on top of the desk, for a moment, neither of us says anything. I sit up straighter.
"How did the meeting with Lorenzo go?" he asks.
The question catches me off guard. "Fine."
One eyebrow lifts. "Fine?"
I nod. "Yes, Da."
He studies me for a moment. "Did he treat you respectfully?"
The fact that he's asking should make me feel better, but it doesn't. "Yes."
"And?"
I blink. "And what?"
"Did you find him reasonable?"
Reasonable: not kind, not attractive, not whether I liked him, but reasonable.
"Yes," I answer carefully. "He was honest."
Dad nods, apparently that's the correct answer. "Good."
Relief loosens something in my chest, only slightly.
He reaches for a file sitting on the corner of his desk. "The engagement party is in two weeks."
"Okay."
"There will be a lot of eyes on you."
I nod. "I know."
"The Syndicate will be watching how you conduct yourself."
My stomach twists, not because he's being harsh, but because he's right. They’ll be watching and judging me.
"They'll be watching Lorenzo too," I point out quietly.
"They will." His gaze settles on me. "But Lorenzo is expected to know how to handle that attention. You are still learning."
Something inside me shrinks, I don’t outwardly show it, because it happens all the same.
"I understand."
"I know you do." His voice softens slightly. "Quinn, this alliance is important."
There it is, the real reason I'm here, it’s not because he's worried about me, or because he's checking how I feel, but because the alliance matters, the Syndicate matters, and the family matters, which doesn’t include me, and my job is to make sure I don't become a problem.
"I won't do anything to embarrass the family." The words come automatically, I've said versions of them my entire life.
Dad nods, seemingly satisfied. "Good."
Silence settles between us and I wait. Years of experience have taught me the meeting isn't over until he says it is. Finally, he leans back in his chair. "I know this isn't what you expected."
I stare at him, and for one stupid second, hope flares. Maybe he's going to ask if I'm okay, or acknowledge what happened.
"But life rarely gives us what we expect."
The hope dies just as quickly. "Yes, Da."
He smiles approvingly, it’s the smile I spent years chasing. "I knew I could rely on you."
The words hit me harder than they should, because that's all I've ever wanted. Not love or praise, but approval. I hate that it still works. "Thank you, Da."
He picks his paperwork back up, the meeting is over. "You're dismissed."
I stand immediately. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Quinn."
I leave the office and close the door behind me. The second I'm in the hallway, I release a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
My shoulders ache, my jaw aches, everything aches. And the worst part? If someone asked me how the meeting went, I'd tell them it was fine.
I make it halfway back to the library before I stop. The house is quiet, no one is around, and no one saw me walk into Dad's office.
I lean against the wall and close my eyes. The meeting lasted less than ten minutes.
Ten minutes, that's all, and yet I feel exhausted. Like I've spent an hour defending myself.
I know Dad loves me, at least, I think he does.
The problem is that love in our family has always felt conditional.
You have to earn it. You are given it when you've done the right thing, and then taken away when you've disappointed someone.
And somewhere along the line, I learned that the easiest way to keep it was to be agreeable, to be useful, and to never ask for more than I was given.
A knock sounds nearby and I immediately straighten, the reaction is instinctive and automatic. I hate that it is.
"Miss Quinn?" Mamie asks from further down the hallway. "Would you like some tea brought to the library?"
I smile. "Yes, please."
Then I push away from the wall and continue walking. Because Dad's right. The engagement party is in two weeks the Syndicate will be watching, and I've spent my entire life learning how to be exactly who everyone needs me to be.