Lorenzo
I was wondering how long it would be before she approached. Daire Delaney has been watching me all night. I knew it was only a matter of time before she sought me out. Then again, the main question is why the hell is she even here?
“It appears that way,” I reply without looking at her.
Quinn disappeared upstairs a while ago and hasn’t returned. I’m wondering where she’s disappeared to.
“She’s not who you think she is,” Daire says, and there’s an edge to her tone. One that I don’t like one fucking bit.
“That’s a bit rich coming from you, wouldn’t you say?”
Her laugh is false and high-pitched. Those people closest to us glance in our direction. “What Rurik and I did was never meant to harm anyone. What Quinn did on the other hand...”
The woman in question descends the stairs, her eyes fixated on me and her sister, her cheeks flushed, and her back ramrod straight. What happened upstairs?
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I growl, more than annoyed with her bullshit. Whatever game she’s playing, it needs to end right now.
“Ask my darling sister about Orla Geraghty, ask her what happened to that poor young girl,” she says low, and before I can respond, she saunters off, slinking away into the crowd, my gaze follows her and I clock that she’s found Frederick Hightower, interesting, I didn’t know they knew one another.
"I want to know what the hell happened with Orla Geraghty, " I growl to Quinn the moment she stands beside me.
I’m beyond pissed off. Her sister’s full of bullshit, we all know that, but Geraghty is a name I know. I also remember Ciro telling me there was an incident and that the Delaney family has buried it.
Has the Delaney family managed to get the wool over our eyes for the second time?
"Where did you hear that name?" she asks, her eyes wide. The color drained from her face, and she’s shaking. Not a good look for her.
What the hell happened?
"I asked you a question."
She looks at me for a moment, and I watch her deciding how to answer, which tells me more than the answer itself will. When someone answers immediately, they're either telling the truth or they've rehearsed a version. When they pause, they're making up the story in their head.
"Daire likes causing problems. Whatever she told you, I'd take it with a very large grain of salt."
"She told me a name," I say. "That was it. I’m surprised by how defensive you are, Quinn."
Her eyes narrow as she glares at me. “I’m not defensive, Lorenzo.”
Oh, but she is, and it is making me question everything.
I despise secrets, especially when armed by my enemies, and Daire Delaney is an enemy.
Whatever she knows is making Quinn stand with a stiff spine and act defensively.
I want to know what the fuck is going on.
"Quinn," I say with anger. I’m unable to hide my displeasure any longer.
She meets my eyes, and for a second, I see a flicker of guilt in them before she masks her expression. "It doesn't matter," she says. "Not tonight."
Fuck no, this isn’t the end of this discussion. "It matters to me."
"Then I'll explain it another time." She takes a breath. "Not here, not in the middle of this."
As irritating as it is to wait, I’m not the type of man to put something off and forget about it. She's right, this isn't the time or the place. But the conversation isn't finished, and she knows it.
Someone approaches us, and I watch as she plasters on a fake smile, one that looks too fucking real, but I’ve watched this woman a lot. I’ve seen her at a vulnerable moment, a few of them, and I can tell the difference between a genuine smile and a fake one.
My hand comes away from her back. I remain where I am, at her side, but I don't touch her. I don't lean close. I stay beside her, but I need to put distance between us, as much as I can, without it being obvious. Of course, Quinn notices, her back straightens, her entire body tenses, and she doesn’t speak. She greets the newcomer, but there’s a coldness to her tone.
She's very good at hiding her true feelings, always covering them up with a smile or a deflection of conversation, and I'm starting to wonder how long she's been this good at it.
As she speaks with the man in front of us, some son of a politician, I think about everything I know about Quinn Delaney. The bruises she covers, the way she’s quiet and withdrawn, but underneath, she’s anything but shy. She’s intelligent and funny. So why does she wear a mask every day?
I’m grateful for the reprieve when my father calls me over to introduce me to more people. Once we’re done, I manage to pull Ciro aside. I quickly explain to my brother what’s happened and ask him to dig as much as possible. But before we can finish our conversation, Daire edges closer.
“Stay close, I have a feeling that she’s in a mood to spill some secrets.”
Ciro nods. “But the question is, what does she gain from doing so?” He moves away from me but not far, just into the shadows of the darkened room, close enough to be able to hear whatever the hell Daire’s about to say.
"Lorenzo," Daire says quietly as she comes to stand before me. "Do you have a minute?"
I nod, not wanting to deal with this shit but I need answers and right now she’s the only one willing to offer them up. "You have thirty seconds."
She glances around the room, ensuring that we’re alone. "I don't want to cause problems," she says. "That's not what this is."
"Then be quick."
She exhales deeply, her fingers toying with the red fabric of her dress. “Orla Geraghty was a girl we grew up around. Tony's daughter.” She pauses, glancing up at me, and I see the mischief in her eyes. "She and Quinn were very close for a while, when we were teenagers."
I wait, knowing that she’s nowhere near finished.
"The thing about Orla," Daire says slowly, "is that she was vulnerable.
She had anxiety, she struggled really badly with it.
She wasn't really built for the world we live in.
" She pulls in a ragged breath and I watch as she exhales. It all looks too polished. I’m far from stupid, so I know that Daire is fucking with me.
"Quinn latched onto her. That's the only way I know how to describe it.
She became very... possessive of their friendship. "
"Define possessive?" I say through clenched teeth.
"Quinn didn't like it when Orla spent time with other people.
She'd find ways to make herself essential, to make Orla dependent on her.
And if Orla pulled away—" She stops, shaking her head slightly.
"Quinn was subtle about it. That's the thing, she never did anything visible. It was always small things. Whispered words about Orla to others. Orla’s other friendships became poisoned due to rumors about what Orla had done or said.
Orla then pulled away from everyone, scared that she was somehow the reason no one would talk to her.
Somehow Quinn made that happen without ever looking like the one who made it happen. "
I'm very still. What the fuck? That doesn’t sound like Quinn, but then again, I don’t know my soon-to-be wife.
"Orla got worse," Daire says. "More isolated, more dependent on Quinn.
My sister was the only person that Orla would talk to.
And then something happened between them, I don't know exactly what.
Quinn has never said, but Orla spiraled...
" She breaks off, her breathing rapid as she glances around once again. "Orla killed herself just days later."
"Quinn was blamed," I say without emotion.
"People talked. Tony lost his mind with grief, and he blamed everyone.
I don't think he ever specifically...” She trails off.
"But yes. Some people said Quinn had isolated her, that Quinn was the reason she had no one.
That if Quinn hadn't done what she did, Orla would have had people to hold onto. "
I'm watching Daire's face carefully, trying to see the lies in her eyes, but I don't find any tells.
"Why didn't anyone deal with it at the time?" I ask.
"Da buried it. Quinn was sixteen and Orla's death was ruled as a suicide. Da made sure the connection to Quinn never became public." She holds my gaze. "He's very protective of his family's reputation, all of it, even the parts that don't deserve protecting."
Her words and her tone are those of someone who’s been pushed to the side and watched her family protect someone else.
"People always underestimate Quinn," Daire says quietly. "Because she's quiet, because she seems shy." She pauses. "I grew up with her, I know who she really is."
I look at her, and there’s something about this that doesn’t ring true, and I can’t put my finger on it. We know that something happened to Geraghty’s daughter. We didn’t know the exact details, but I feel as though Daire’s not telling the full truth.
"I'm not saying this to hurt her," Daire says. "Or to cause problems for you. I just..." She looks away briefly before looking back at me. "You deserve to know who you're marrying."
I don't believe that's why she's telling me, not entirely. But motives don't automatically make information false, so I listen.
She leaves before I can respond, leaving me alone with a question I hadn't considered five minutes ago.
“That was unexpected,” Ciro says, coming to stand beside me. “But I spoke with Marco, and he has been doing some digging, and yes, Orla Geraghty died around two years ago. From what he gathered, it was from suicide, but that’s all that he has for us.”
A lot of this doesn't make sense. Tony is Ronan's right hand, he's a huge part of the Irish mafia, one of Ronan's most trusted men.
His daughter is dead, and according to Daire, Quinn had something to do with it. Yet Tony is still here, still standing beside Ronan, still trusted.
It doesn't fit.
The problem is that Quinn reacted, and I saw it. The moment Orla's name left Daire's mouth, something changed in her expression before she locked it down again, I don't know what it means. But I know what I saw, and until I know why Quinn reacted the way she did, I can't ignore it.
I have a lot of questions to ask my soon-to-be wife, that’s for sure. And I have no doubt that the more questions I ask, the more questions I’ll have.
“What are you going to do?” Ciro asks me.
“I’m going to speak with Quinn,” I say low. That’s the only thing left for me to do.
He nods. “Good luck, you’re going to need it. If it’s as buried as we think, it’ll be hard to get anything out of her or her father.”
Quinn finds me twenty minutes later, her brows knitted together as she comes to stand beside me with that fake smile she’s perfected, plastered on her face. We stand in silence as we both watch the room. After a few minutes, she glances up at me. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything is fine,” I tell her.
"Did I do something?" she asks quietly.
"Why would you ask that?”
She keeps her gaze on me. "You're acting differently."
I know that she’s noticed I’ve pulled away, but I do not trust her, nor do I think I can ever.
This marriage is exactly as I had said from the get-go.
No trust, no closeness, nothing. She’ll be my wife in name only.
I understand that I do not know everything about her, but this family has lied and kept shit from us before now and finding out about Orla Geraghty has me on high alert about what else could be hidden. "I'm fine."
"Lorenzo."
I turn to look at her. I keep my face where it needs to be. "I've a lot on my mind," I say. "Work things."
It's a lie. Quinn knows it's a lie, and she can't say so because we're surrounded by people, and she's too smart to make a scene or to even draw attention toward us. She looks at me for a moment longer and then turns back to the room. She smiles at someone across it, and the smile is perfect, and I watch it, and I think: there it is. The thing I keep coming back to. It’s how good she is at performing whatever the moment requires.
Thankfully, the evening is winding down, and people are going home. My father, Vittoria, Ciro and my sisters leave shortly after the East Street Kings and within ten minutes, there’s only a handful of people left and they’re saying their goodbyes.
Quinn moves away from me, not saying a word. She doesn’t even give me a second glance. I watch her walk up the stairs and disappear from sight.
Leaving the Delaney house, I feel a weird sensation in my chest, almost as though something heavy is sitting on it.
I walk toward my car, and I can feel someone watching me.
I turn and look up at the windows and see Quinn in the window watching me.
Even in the darkness, I can see the pain and anguish in her eyes. I ignore it and slide into my car.
I don’t know what to do about Quinn or the news that I learned.
Tomorrow brings a new day and hopefully more information about Orla Geraghty.
Because, as much as I know something happened to Orla and somehow Quinn is involved, I don’t put much stock in what Daire Delaney says.
That woman can, and has, lied through her teeth without breaking a sweat.
I have both Ciro and Marco on this, and I’m determined to find out the truth.
Tonight solidified the fact that no matter what, no Delaney can be trusted, and that includes my pretty little fiancée.
If I find out that there’s a fucking lot more that the Delaneys are hiding, I’ll topple their entire organization without a second thought.
I will not allow another family to target the syndicate again.
I will not let my family bear the brunt of even more deaths.
I’ll slaughter every single Delaney before I let it happen again.