Chapter 12 - Ava
I was sitting by the dressing mirror with a detangling brush in my hair and a half-eaten apple in my mouth when a soft knock came on the door. I munched, brushed, and sat up straight.
“Come in.”
The door opened and the maid strolled in quietly with an empty silver tray clasped to her hip and her head bowed. Her long brown strands fell forward, and she slid them behind her ear.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Sullivan. The boss seeks your attention urgently downstairs. He asked me to fetch you.”
I wanted to make a lame joke about her choice of Old English when she spoke, but I didnt bother. She wouldnt have gotten it either way.
“Ava.” I dropped the brush and rose from the soft plush seat by the mirror. “I’ve told you for the hundredth time, Arielle. You can call me by my name. I dont bite. And you are not committing some universal crime if you speak to me with your head up.”
Arielle and I were the same age, and we might have turned out to be good friends if she wasn’t so obedient and serving. What was the point in having her address me like I was some Queen Superior who needed all the attention?
Hesitantly, she lifted her head, and brown eyes stared at me as if I had two heads when I took the bowl of fruits to her. “Here, have some.”
She sputtered, choked, and couldn’t speak for a straight ten seconds. “Ms. Sulli—”
“Arielle?”
She wiped her hands on the dreary grey pinafore before receiving the bowl. “Ava… I possibly could not,” she rejected strongly with her Irish accent.
I walked to the wardrobe with a triumphant smirk. “You already did. Now, come. Help me pick out something classy but sweet.”
Arielle blushed. “Thank you, Ava.”
She helped me pick out a short white dress with spaghetti straps and brushed out the tangles in my curls until the hair bounced below my shoulders. After touching up my lips, we moved to the door, she paused quietly beside me, head bowed, and fingers fidgeting when she asked, “Ava?”
I smiled. “Yes, Arielle?”
“I have... I was meaning to ask you about your health.”
My smile dropped. She was there in the room that night. She witnessed the fainting and nursed me through the headaches. But I didn’t want to talk about it now. If Dad found out I was sick, I dreaded thinking about how overboard he was willing to go. Besides, nothing had been confirmed yet by the doctor.
“I’m fine, Arielle. Thanks for worrying about me.”
Her shoulders stiffened. She wasn’t convinced but I was glad that she didn’t press further.
We went downstairs and I was stunned to see both Declan and Dad seated on the couch. Arielle excused herself, leaving me alone in the presence of the two men. What was most surprising was seeing Declan seated, not standing. In the living room.
That was unusual.
Dad conducted all of his businesses in his offices scattered across the city or in the basement of the house. Having Declan seated in the sitting room meant family business, and I wondered what kind of family business made the younger man look so comfortable in a pair of black sweatpants and a matching T-shirt.
His hair was damp, and beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. Knowing Declan, he’d been out on a run.
Before I sat beside him, I felt the heat of his gaze on my body. It made me self-aware and conscious of my exposed skin. He cleared his throat, rubbed his thigh, and then...
“I like your dress.”
Boom!
Completely out of nowhere, his comment dropped louder than he intended. I detected the shift in my fathers eyes. Getting compliments was not a problem, but it had never come from Declan in the presence of my father. I shot him a stink eye. Was he drunk or just trying to get us in trouble?
“Thanks.” I shifted. It was awkward. Cute, but awkward. I was eager to know why my father assembled us. It was only natural to believe Declan already had an idea.
Slotting my phone out from the pocket of my dress, I texted him.
Me: Why are we here?
His phone buzzed in his pockets, and he took it out. I almost burst out laughing when he noticed I was the sender of the message. Sparing Dad a cautious glance, he began typing.
Declan: I have no fucking clue. Shit is awkward.
I dropped my phone on my lap. Then, I picked it up again.
Me: Are you sure you cant make a wild guess?
Declan: Ava, if I knew what was going on, I would have told you by now.
Holding my breath, I scrolled through the chain of messages we’d sent back and forth. This was the most we’d texted each other in a year. It was exciting and left a foreign feeling hanging in the air. In real life, he carried himself like a man with an impenetrable armor. But texting him felt different; like communicating with a long-time friend.
Me: What was that with the dress, though? Are you trying to get us cooked?
Declan: Sorry. I was nervous. But the dress really is pretty.
Me: Thanks. :) Dad’s looking up now.
We fixed our phones back into our pockets—with me feeling like a naughty teenager caught texting her crush— and paid attention when my father combed the greying strands of his red hair. “Now I called the two of you here to discuss something of utmost importance.”
Declan and I shared a look as if to say he was stating the obvious.
Dad’s eyes held mine. “Yesterday marked your official introduction into the society, Ava, as you asked. We made it happen, and now we have to deal with the results of our actions.”
“That doesn’t sound good.” I wondered why he said it so calmly, like we had it under control. “When you say the results of our actions, what exactly does that mean?”
“It means,” he sat forward on the black sofa, legs crossed, and fingers laced together over his knee. “you’ve been recognized as a woman. A ripe woman.”
“A ripe woman?” I repeated slowly. What did that even mean? I looked to Declan for help, but he kept his eye trained on my father.
“Marriage proposals, Mo leanbh. You know you are beautiful, my darling. Your appearance at the party caught many eyes and hearts. I left with eight proposals from very respectable men in our society.”
When my father said “respectable men in our society,” I wasn’t sure which men he referred to. Men like Mr. President of the United States of America or men like Viktor Voronin-Varkov. Instantly, I kicked thoughts of him out of my mind and focused on what my father was saying.
“...and I’m considering them.”
Now, that got my heart to halt. What?
When I said I wanted to be a part of my father’s empire, marriage was the last thing on my mind. The very last thing.
I shook my head. “No.”
Dad’s eyes hardened. “Ava...”
“No, Da. I don’t want to get married.”
“Have you already forgotten?” His tone rose. “I warned you, didn’t I? In this world, there is almost no place for a woman. If you want to thrive, you have to get married. You claim you want to help the brotherhood, and to do that you need a man by your side, Mo leanbh. A woman cannot lead. It has never been heard of before. But with marriage, you will maintain respect and power.”
Anger and blinding rage threatened to drag me under, but I thought twice about displaying it. Dad did not condone insolence. Grating my teeth, I forced my eyes up to his. “Your mind is already made up then. I’m assuming you already know who you’d be selling—sorry, wedding me off to.”
To my surprise, he declined with a nod. “I’m rejecting them all.”
“You are?” It felt like a weight from my chest. Maybe he’d sized them all up and found neither suitable.
“Yes, and that’s because I have a much better plan.” His eyes shifted from mine to Declan’s. “I want you to marry Declan.”
“Cad?”
“What?”
We voiced in unison, and I felt my body lift from the sofa on its own accord. I motioned between the younger man and me, who looked even more shocked by the news than I did. “We... We can’t get married,” I blurted. “We... Declan and I are not compatible.”
Dad laughed, tilting back on the sofa. “You can marry him, sweetheart. You can and you will. No one cares about compatibility. I trust you two anyway, and I sense that there might be some chemistry. After marriage, you both can work it out.”
“Father...” I tried to argue, but he raised a hand, silencing me.
“He liked your dress.” As if that settled anything. There were a million and one reasons why we could not get married but two were most prominent. One: He was hot. Like supermodel hot. But I didn’t want to be with a man because I found him attractive. To me, that was shallow; and that led me to point number two.
Sure, a few times my heart skipped when he was in the room. But that didn’t mean I liked, liked him. Right?
“Listen, kids. I worked all my life,” Dad was saying. “All my life building things from scratch, ever since I was a fucking teenager. The empire was built on my sweat and fucking blood, and I don’t want to give it to some idiot just because he wants to fuck my daughter. If someone must take over, it had to be my blood.”
He pointed to Declan. “Declan here has been more like a son to me than any of my men. I met the lad when he was fifteen. Fourteen years later, and son’s a grown-ass man now. Trusted, loyal, and reliable. If you marry him, sweetheart, he will become family. Your children will continue our legacy. That is why he is the chosen one. I trust no one else.”
Silence settled in the room for a whole minute and Dad looked between the two of us.
“Does anyone question my decision?”
Declan shook his head with rapid speed, and I mirrored it. We couldn’t even dare.
“No.” The man beside me voiced out, sitting forward on the sofa with his elbows on his knees. “Thanks, uh... boss. Thank you for this opportunity. I have no problem with the arrangement, and I swear on my life that I will love, protect, and take care of your daughter just as much as you have, and even more.”
Dad tried to gauge my reaction, but I kept a poker face, staying silent for a while.
A part of me wished Declan rebelled against the idea. I wanted him to because I knew I could never do it. I didn’t have that kind of courage.
“Ava?”
Dad’s voice was eager, expectant.
Sucking in a deep breath, I exhale. My shoulders sagged.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” He wanted more; a solid response binding the agreement.
I nodded. If marrying Declan O’Malley was the solution that I needed to help my family, then I was going to do it in a heartbeat.
“Yes, I will marry him.”
Dad stood up from the sofa, satisfied. “Good.”
For the rest of the day, I didn’t speak with anyone, not even my husband-to-be. I wasn’t mad at him; I just was not in love with him. The arrangement sounded more like a business agreement and less like a future I was going to have with someone possibly forever.
My phone buzzed on the pillow beside mine and I opened my eyes, swiftly looking away from the ceiling. At first, I was hesitant. I thought Declan was trying to communicate, but then the phone went off, and the caller ID had no link to the blonde.
Sweat formed in my palms and anxiety gnawed at my nerves. I swiped on the screen and placed the phone on my ear.
“Doctor Ophelia,” I swallowed the lump that quickly formed in my throat. “What a surprise. I thought you were never going to call.”
She tittered and went straight to business. “I tried texting a few times but got no responses. Ava, the results came back positive.”
It was like something snatched all the air from my lungs. My fingers stilled on the phone and a well of tears rose to my eyes.
“Congratulations.” Her voice bounced back with more excitement than was necessary. “You’re pregnant.”