31. Bianca
31
BIANCA
R ork’s gaze pierces mine as I contemplate his question.
A wave of conflicting emotions washes over me. Gratitude, relief, and a strange sense of indebtedness all swirl together in my mind, creating a dizzying cocktail of thoughts and feelings that I can barely begin to untangle.
On the one hand, I know that I should be furious with Rork for the way he’s treated me in his stupid game of revenge against my father. The memory of those photos, of the humiliation and degradation he subjected me to, still burns like a hot coal in the pit of my stomach.
But on the other hand… he saved my life. He risked everything, put his own body on the line, to protect me from the mountain lion. He’s also been kind to me in his own weird way. And now, with his promise to spare my father the torment of his plans, I can’t help but feel a sense of overwhelming relief.
“I promise, Rork. I’ll stay.”
The words are simple, but the weight of them, the significance of what I’m agreeing to… it’s staggering. A promise that binds us together.
I can’t help but worry about the damage that’s already been done. The photos, the videos…
What must my father think of me now? What must he believe, seeing his daughter so thoroughly debased and broken by the man he hates most in this world?
I turn my head to pretend to cough, but hot tears sting my eyes. I want to believe that my father will understand, that he’ll see the truth behind the lies and the manipulation, but I know I might never get the chance to find out.
Rork’s hand tightens around mine, and the small, simple gesture of comfort and connection is a reminder that I’m not alone.
Just as I open my mouth to say something, there’s a knock at the door, and it opens to reveal Alice ushering in the doctor.
The doctor—a stern-looking man with silver hair and wire-rimmed glasses—stops short as he takes in Rork’s bandaged chest and my hand entwined with his. He sighs heavily and takes his glasses off to rub them against his shirt.
“Rork O’Malley, what have you gotten into this time?”
Rork cracks a grin, his eyes lighting up as he sees the doctor. “A cougar.”
The doctor closes his eyes and mutters something under his breath before he looks at me. “Mrs. O’Malley, I presume?”
I nod.
The doctor drops his bag by Rork’s bedside and begins his examination. As he does so, I can’t help but feel a sense of overwhelming relief that he’s alive and will be okay.
I should probably feel more conflicted and torn between my loyalty to my family and my growing connection to Rork, but I can’t bring myself to regret my decision. I’m giving him a chance to prove that he’s more than the monster I once believed him to be.
The doctor leans in close to examine the gashes on Rork’s chest. His brow furrows in concentration as he prods gently at the edges of the wounds, his gloved fingers stained with the rusty red of dried blood.
“You did a decent job cleaning these up,” he says, glancing up at me with a nod of approval. “That’s crucial with injuries caused by wild animals. The risk of infection is always high.”
I feel a flush of pride at his words, a small spark of satisfaction that I was able to do something to help Rork in his time of need. “I did my best,” I murmur, my gaze sliding back to Rork’s face.
He’s watching me, his eyes dark and intense despite the pain that I know must be coursing through his body, and I feel something that might almost be understanding pass between us.
An acknowledgment of the gratitude that I feel for his willingness to put aside his own desires for the sake of my father’s peace, of the debt that I owe him.
“Where did you learn to clean and dress wounds?” Rork asks, his voice low and gravelly.
I shrug. “Sometimes, when my father’s men would come back to the house, I would watch them clean up their injuries. After a while, I volunteered to help them. I got good at it.”
Rork’s eyebrows rise into his hairline. “Your father was okay with this?”
I smirk, unable to help himself. “Papa never knew. The men were so grateful, they promised to keep my secret.”
A burst of laughter escapes Rork’s lips before he scowls as the doctor pokes an especially tender cut.
“Doc, what the hell?”
“Stop laughing so I can treat you,” the doctor orders.
He sets to work cleaning the wounds again, his movements quick and efficient as he applies a stinging antiseptic to the ragged edges of the gashes. I wince in sympathy, my own flesh seeming to throb in response to the imagined pain.
But Rork never even flinches. His jaw is set, his gaze on me as he endures the doctor’s ministrations with a stoicism that borders on the superhuman.
“You’re lucky,” the doctor says. “These cuts are deep, but they’re clean. No sign of infection, and no major damage to the underlying muscle or bone.”
Rork nods, a small, tight motion that betrays none of the relief that I feel washing over me at the doctor’s words. “Thanks, Doc. I appreciate your coming out on such short notice.”
The doctor waves away his gratitude, already packing up his supplies and stripping off his gloves. “Just doing my job. Now, you’ll need to rest for a few days and give those wounds a chance to heal properly. And no more wrestling with mountain lions, you hear?”
Despite myself, a small smile tugs at the corner of my lips. It’s such an absurd thing to say, such a grossly understated way of describing the horror that Rork and I just lived through.
But somehow, it’s exactly what I need to hear, a reminder that even in the darkest of moments, there’s still room for humor.
As the doctor takes his leave, I find myself alone with Rork once more. The silence stretches between us, heavy with the weight of all the things we’ve left unsaid.
But for once, I don’t feel the need to fill it with words, accusations, or recriminations. Instead, I simply reach out and take his hand in mine again. A small, simple gesture of comfort and connection, a silent promise that I’m here.
That I’m not going anywhere, not now. Not when he needs me most.
Rork’s hand tightens around mine, and I feel the gentle brush of his thumb against my knuckles, a small, intimate gesture that sends a shiver racing down my spine.
I look up, my gaze locking with his, and I’m struck by the intensity of the emotion that I see burning in his eyes. It’s not anger, not the cold, calculated cruelty that I’ve come to know so well.
No, this is something different. Something warmer, softer, more vulnerable than anything I’ve ever seen from him before.
And as I stare at him, taking in the chiseled lines of his jaw and the fullness of his lips, I feel a sudden, unexpected surge of heat blooming in the pit of my stomach. He really is quite handsome , I realize with a start. Even battered and bruised, there’s a raw, magnetic power to him, a primal, animalistic charisma that draws me like a moth to a flame.
Almost without meaning to, I feel myself licking my lips. A small, unconscious gesture, but one that doesn’t go unnoticed by Rork.
I hear a low, guttural growl escape from his throat, a sound that’s halfway between a growl and a groan. And suddenly, the air between us is thick with tension, a simmering, electric charge that crackles and sparks with every breath we take.
It’s a dangerous feeling, a heady cocktail of attraction and apprehension that makes my head spin and my pulse race, because as much as I’m drawn to him, as much as I can’t deny the primal pull of his presence, I know that this is a line I can’t—shouldn’t—cross, a boundary that I can’t allow myself to blur, no matter how much my body may crave his touch.
He wanted my mother . The thought of that is like a bucket of cold water being poured over my head.
Just as I’m about to pull away, Rork’s stomach lets out a loud, insistent growl.
The sound is so unexpected that I can’t help but let out a startled laugh. Rork looks sheepish, a faint flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. But there’s a glimmer in his eyes too, a hint of the wry, self-deprecating humor that I’ve caught glimpses of before.
“Sorry,” he mutters, his hand falling away from mine as he shifts uncomfortably on the bed. “Guess I’m hungrier than I thought.”
I seize on the opportunity like a lifeline, grateful for the chance to break the spell that’s fallen over us. “I can go get you something to eat,” I offer, already rising to my feet. I’ll order him food and then escape to my room. “The kitchen staff can whip up a tray in no time.”
But Rork shakes his head. “No, don’t go.” His voice is low, almost pleading. “Stay. Eat with me.”
I hesitate, torn between the desire to put some distance between us and the strange, unwelcome thrill that his words send through me.
I find myself nodding. “Okay,” I say softly, my heart doing a little flip in my chest. “I’ll stay.”
I slip out of the room just long enough to request two trays from the kitchen, and then I’m back, settling myself into the chair beside Rork’s bed.
It’s a strange, surreal experience, sitting here with the man who’s caused me so much pain and suffering, and yet feeling a sense of comfort and connection that I never could have imagined.
“Do you want me to read to you?” I suddenly ask, unsure of what to say.
Before Rork can respond, there’s a knock at the door as the kitchen staff bring the trays of food. I bustle around Rork’s room, making sure he’s comfortable and has everything he needs. It’s a strange feeling, this sudden urge to care for him, but after everything that’s happened, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
When I finally settle down beside him, my own tray balanced on my lap, I’m struck by how easy it is to fall back into conversation with him. Gone are the anger, the resentment, the constant push and pull of our twisted dynamic. In its place is something softer, more genuine. It reminds me of last week, of our conversations in the gardens and across the dining room table.
“I still can’t believe you tried to fight off that cougar,” Rork teases, his green eyes sparking with a mixture of amusement and admiration. “What were you thinking, taking on a predator like that with nothing but a stick?”
I make a face, my cheeks flushing. “It wasn’t a stick,” I insist. “It was a healthy branch, thank you. But I don't know. I guess I just… reacted. I’ve always loved physical challenges, you know? I was top of my class for athleticism. I ran the fastest mile at my high school, and I was always down to play with the boys and rough and tumble with them.”
“Impressive,” Rork remarks. “Did you ever play any sports?”
“No,” I say shortly, looking down at my plate. “My father… he never let me pursue them. Said it wasn’t fitting for a woman of my station.”
I roll my eyes, the old frustration and resentment bubbling up inside me.
“I have a home gym,” Rork admits, looking at me with something like respect in his eyes. “You’re always welcome to work with Mitch, my trainer, if you want to learn some self-defense moves or just to burn off some steam.”
I smile at him, my heart lightning at that small olive branch. “I would like that.”
As we eat and talk and laugh, I find myself thinking about the promise I made to him. The vow to stay and not run away anymore.
To my surprise, I realize that I’m not sure I would try to run away again, even if I hadn’t given my word. Because as strange and impossible as it seems, I’ve found something here, in this room, with this man.
Something that I never could have imagined, never could have dreamed of. A connection. A bond that goes beyond the twisted games and the cruel manipulations I’ve come to know.
As the night wears on and the shadows lengthen on the walls, I find myself growing more and more reluctant to leave. I’m worried about him and his wounds and the toll that the day’s events have taken on his body and mind. And even more than that…
He nearly died for me. He put his own life on the line, risked everything he had, to save me from a fate worse than death.
And as much as it goes against everything I thought I knew about myself and my own desire, I know that I don’t want to lose him. The thought of a world without Rork on it, without his infuriating smirk and his unexpected moments of tenderness, is a thought that I can’t bear.
But there’s still something holding me back, and it has everything to do with Rork’s prior history with my mother.
It’s been eating away at me, a constant source of unease and disgust. I can’t bear the idea of being a mere replacement, a consolation prize for the woman he truly desires.
“I need to ask you something,” I begin, my voice trembling slightly, “and I need you to be completely honest with me.”
His expression is guarded, wary. “What is it?”
I take another deep breath. “I… I know about your history with my mother. I know you had feelings for her, that you tried to come between her and my father. Am I just a substitute for her? I need to know, Rork… do you still love my mother?”
To my surprise, Rork’s face contorts into an expression of disgust, as if he’s about to be sick. He shakes his head vehemently, a shudder going through him.
“Love Anna? Are you kidding me?” he scoffs, his tone incredulous. “I’ve never had a thing for your mother, Bianca. That’s disgusting. She was once my closest friend, a sister, nothing more.”
I blink, taken aback by his strong reaction. “But… but I thought… My mother said…”
Rork sighs heavily, wincing at the pain in his chest. “Your mother and I had a complicated history, but it’s not what you think. Anna—your mother—was my best friend when we were growing up. She was only seventeen when she was betrothed to your father, and I took it personally. Anna had so many dreams, and I thought she was squandering them by marrying your father.”
“But you didn’t like Papa,” I point out.
He nods. “That’s true. I know he’s your father and all, but he’s a fucking arrogant bastard. He always has been. But…” He pauses, seeming to struggle with his next words. “But I was a stupid, arrogant boy. I thought I knew what was best for Anna and took it upon myself to be her protector.”
Rork looks at me intently. “I’ve never seen her as anything other than a sister, but now that I look at what happened, I’m starting to realize that I was just as arrogant and controlling as your father.” He raises his eyebrows at me. “And you can’t deny that he is.”
Well, he has me there.
“In the end, all I did was push Anna away and damage our friendship. I’ve missed out on twenty years of having her in my life, and that’s a regret I’ll always carry with me.”
I listen intently, trying to process his words. “So… you didn’t love her? You weren’t trying to win her for yourself?” I know he’s already said this, but I need for him to confirm it again.
Rork exhales, his shoulders sagging slightly. “No, Bianca. I cared for Anna deeply, but it was never romantic. I thought I was being a good friend, but I overstepped my boundaries.”
I nod, a sense of relief washing over me. But there’s still one question lingering in my mind. “Do you miss her? Do you wish she were still a part of your life?”
I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with him, that I feel like I’m competing with my own mother .
Rork looks thoughtful for a moment, his eyes distant. Then he shakes his head. “I thought I would, but we’re two different people now. The Anna I knew, the friendship we had… it’s a part of the past. We’ve both grown and changed, and holding on to those memories won’t do me any good.”
Rork's words ring true, and I can see the sincerity in his eyes. It’s a goddamn relief.
“So… you entered the tournament just to get revenge on my father? Not to try and replace my mother?”
Rork nods. “Correct.” He lifts my chin up with his hand, forcing me to look into his green eyes. “I’ve never thought of you as your mother. You certainly look like her and have some of her traits, but you are uniquely you .”
It feels like twenty pounds have been removed from my shoulders. “Can I ask you another question? How the hell did you manage to get into the tournament?”
Rork’s laugh is a warm, rich baritone. “ That’s a Mob Boss’s secret,” he teases. “Let’s just say someone owed me a huge favor and I cashed it in. You also never should have made the tournament a masked one. It was too easy to slip in.”
My body flushes with embarrassment. “That was my idea,” I mumble. “I was warned it was a bad one, but I didn’t want to listen.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” Rork hums, rolling his eyes at me affectionately and squeezing my hand.
“Can I stay with you tonight?” I blurt out, my heart pounding in my chest. I can’t believe I actually said this. “I just… I don’t want to leave you alone. Not after everything that’s happened.”
For a moment, Rork is silent. His eyes search mine, his expression unreadable in the dim lamp light.
But then, slowly, he nods. A small, almost imperceptible gesture, but one that fills me with a rush of relief and gratitude.
“Of course,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough with an emotion I can’t quite name. “Stay as long as you like, Bianca.”
And so I do. I slip beneath the covers beside him, my body molding to his as if it were always meant to be there. Rork’s arms come around me, pulling me close and burying his face in my hair.
With my head resting gently on the one part of his chest that isn’t bandaged and my body pressed close to his, I’m overwhelmed by a sudden, startling realization, a truth that I’ve been denying for longer than I care to admit, and now that I know the truth about him and my mother, I can finally admit it.
I care about him.
Deeply, profoundly, in a way that goes beyond mere gratitude or obligation. Yes, he can be an asshole most of the time— all of the time, actually. Yes, he’s done things, said things, that have hurt me in ways I never thought possible.
But there’s another side to him, too, a wild, reckless side that calls to something deep within me, something that’s always yearned for adventure and excitement and the thrill of the unknown.
He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty, to work hard and fight for what he believes in. And his steady strength, his unwavering loyalty and fierce protectiveness, makes me feel safe. Cherished. Like I’m something precious, something worth fighting for.
As I listen to the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear, I know that I can’t keep these feelings inside any longer. I need to give voice to the words that are welling up inside me, the emotions that threaten to burst from my chest.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice soft and tremulous in the stillness of the room. “For saving my life today. I don’t… I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
Rork’s arms tighten around me, his breath warm against my hair as he speaks. “I would do it again in a heartbeat, Bianca. I would walk into hell itself if it meant keeping you safe.”
His words send a shiver down my spine, a rush of heat that pools low in my belly and makes my heart race. Because I know that he means it, that he would go to any lengths, face any danger, just to protect me .
I’m seized by a sudden, reckless impulse, a desire that’s been building inside me for longer than I care to admit. It’s a need that’s grown stronger with every passing day.
Before I can second-guess myself and talk myself out of it, I lean in close, inhaling the scents of sandalwood and mint and something inexplicably him before my lips brush against his, softly and tentatively.