Chapter 27
CATRIONA
Iglance up from the chess table where I’ve been staring for the past quarter hour, going slightly insane. The game I’ve been half-ass playing with myself hasn’t been able to catch my attention.
It’s been hours since I’ve seen or heard from Aiden.
I’m not worried. I shouldn’t give a damn what he does with his time.
He certainly doesn’t need to check in with me even though he said he would.
The only reason I keep looking out of the front window is because I’m waiting on my jailers to pull out behind me so I can kill time in town.
When my phone rings next to me, I nearly jump out of my seat. “Aiden?” I croak without looking at the screen.
“No, Catriona, this is Broussard. Leonardo Broussard.”
I nearly choke. “Mr. Broussard. I didn’t expect to hear from you. Sorry about that. How are you? Still recovering okay?”
After the shooting, I went back to the hospital several times to check in with him. He spent most of his recovery resting, as he should, and no amount of my apologies or impassioned arguments would deter him from the case. If anything, it only seemed to serve as further motivation.
“Yes, I am. Practically as good as new, thank you for asking. I was wondering if you’d have time to meet today. I’m afraid the news I have is rather urgent.”
“Today? No, I’m so sorry. I’m in Ireland on… business. Would it be possible to discuss over the phone?” There’s a long pause, where I wonder if we’ve been disconnected. “Mr. Broussard?”
“It’s not ideal, but I’ve come across something interesting in your mother’s records I thought may be relevant.”
I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. “Then I’d rather know sooner than later. What did you find?”
“Do you recall when we went over your mother’s calendar and finances that she’d been to see a lawyer?”
“Vaguely, yes. What would that have to do with her death? It wasn’t a routine meeting? She dealt with lawyers all the time.”
“No, I’m afraid. When I looked deeper into her emails, I found reference to a change in her will. Did she ever mention it?”
“Really?” My mind comes up blank. “No, she never said anything to me. Why would she do that?”
“I wish I knew. I’m going to reach out to the law office, but I wanted your approval first.”
“Of course. Whatever you have to do.”
Afterward, I don’t remember if I asked Broussard any clarifying questions. Which means I certainly don’t remember the answers.
The words echo in my head as Bren knocks on the door, with Tadhg in the car waiting out front.
I load up with them, make conversation, but it’s as though someone else is in control of my brain, my body.
It takes what feels like an eternity to drive from the cottage on the cliffs to the center of town.
Bren and Tadhg speak, but I barely hear any of it.
My mind keeps replaying the conversation with Broussard.
Changed her will.
Changed her will.
Changed her will.
As I wander the picturesque streets with quaint little shops made of what looks like white plaster and stonework, my fretting over Aiden’s whereabouts rematerializes.
Where the fuck is he? He wasn’t supposed to take this long.
If he’s so goddamn worried about my safety, why isn’t he here to make sure I’m actually fucking safe?
If this were really our honeymoon, he should be here, patiently letting me look through each cute little shop and urging me to buy whatever my heart desires.
It’s then that I give in to the little devil on my shoulder. The one that tells me to send Aiden a giant fuck you for believing he’s allowed to order me around.
So while I’m browsing around the shops, I buy whatever my heart desires and pay extra to have them drop it off at the cottage.
With the sheer number of purchases, it would be impossible to fit it all in our tiny little rental car.
It’s an odd request that garners a few befuddled looks, but if there’s one thing my father’s taught me, it’s that money talks.
I doubt my little shopping spree will put a dent in the black card Aiden gave me, but I do my level best. Maybe if he bothered to show up, he’d be able to stop me.
Really, it’s his fault I end up with stacks and stacks of books, one-of-a-kind jewelry, an entire wardrobe to fill the empty walk-in closet at his place, and wine bottles by the dozen.
I treat myself to a lengthy, indulgent lunch at The Ivy Cottage in their lovely outdoor seating area, followed by a few gin and tonics at Gus O’Connor’s Pub (no relation, thank God).
I haven’t been keeping track, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d managed a quarter of a million dollars.
A small fortune was spent on handmade merino and cashmere alone.
I couldn’t resist when I learned the nearby Aran Islands are famous for their sweaters.
It’s not only because they’re expensive. Maybe I love a good knit.
By the time we drive back to the cottage, I’m pleasantly worn out and slightly buzzed from the glass of champagne the lovely barkeep provided in addition to the gin and tonics, when he learned I was on my so-called honeymoon.
I’ve all but stewed myself into the perfect rage for a major confrontation with Aiden, but the driveway is empty of his rental car, and the lights inside the cottage are still all off.
He’s not back yet. It’s nearly evening. How long could a conversation with Cian take? If that’s what he’s even doing. How am I supposed to know for sure?
I’m not disappointed.
Or, if I am, it’s only because I was looking forward to showing him exactly how much I don’t care that he’s not there.
After telling my bodyguards I’ll be at the cliffs—and no, they don’t need to follow me—I change into the rain boots and stomp my way through the muddy fields again toward the cliffs. I have half a mind to stay out here and lose myself in their wild expanse.
What if I never went back? What if I gave up the impossible task I’ve set myself and disappeared instead?
It’s so open here, I feel almost anonymous.
With the endless sea of grass and blanket of fluffy white clouds, I could be someone else other than Rory Gallagher’s daughter or Aiden O’Connor’s wife.
It’s almost dusk, but I plant myself on the edge of the cliffs and stare out into the water.
I try to clear my mind of all worries, but it’s impossible when they’re so loud they drown out the sound of wind, waves, and birdsong.
If I keep going down this path, there will be no stopping me.
Like an avalanche, I’ll destroy everything in my way.
I don’t know how long I sit out there, lost in the mire of my thoughts.
Long enough that the chill seeps through one of my new sweaters and light jacket and for the sun to slip down until the horizon almost swallows it up.
When the light around me changes from gold to lavender, I know I should head back in.
I’m already pushing my luck as it is. It’s a miracle O’Connor hasn’t come back already.
I push my fingers into my eyes, hoping it’ll give me some clarity, but all I see are the impressions of starbursts over my vision.
Vertigo assaults me when I try to stand.
Flailing for balance, I remember how close I’m sitting to the edge of the cliffs and how insane it is that there’s no safety fence to block idiots like me from falling to their deaths.
I fall on my ass, screwing my eyes shut again and knotting my fingers in the grass as though it’ll keep me safe, nails driving into the loamy soil.
When my vision clears, I find Aiden staring down at me, one hand on my jaw, the other on the ground beside me.
“What are you doin’ out here, love?” he asks, face flushed with exertion. “How long have you been out here?”
I tell myself it’s fear that makes the bottom drop out of my stomach at the sight of him, incandescent with rage. I tell myself it’s apprehension that has my breath stuttering in my chest and my hands trembling where they go up to grip his wrist.
There are a lot of things I tell myself, and maybe if I repeat them enough, I’ll start believing they’re the truth.
“What does it matter to you? Anything could have happened to me today and you wouldn’t have even known.” If I were a smart girl, I’d learn to shut my mouth.
His eyes grow wide, and I almost smile in his face. “What does it matter to me? What does it—” He breaks off and studies me with liquid eyes. It’s then that I notice the wound on his head, hastily put together with Band-Aids.
My heart is in my throat. “What happened?”
“It’s a long story. I’m fine. Let’s go back to the house.”
“Did Cian do that?” He doesn’t answer. “I thought we were past secrets, O’Connor. Or are you just completely full of shit?”
He studies my face for a long, long moment, as though he’s trying to decipher my thoughts written into my expression, like they’re in an unfamiliar language. “It took longer than I thought. But that’s not what you’re mad about, is it?”
I look away. I don’t know what I’m doing. Running around. Blowing money when so much is at stake. Wanting his attention? Worried about him? Trying to piss him off so he’ll come back to me? No man has ever driven me this crazy. I swear, I was normal before he came into my life.
“Forget about it,” I mutter, face burning now.
I want to shove to my feet, but he’s too close.
It had been easier to have him on his knees.
To humiliate him. It covered up how much I wanted him.
Gave me a way to force him to give me what I needed without admitting anything.
Is that how he felt the night we met? Is that why he did what he did in the limo?
It was easier to keep me at arm’s length to take what he wanted?
As though he can fucking read my thoughts again, he crouches in front of me. “Is that what you want from me, wife? You need me to show you what happens to bad girls who don’t do what they’re told?”