Chapter 5
Belle
As Barrett reaches for my hand through the open limousine door, I simply stare at it.
“Come on, Belle,” he says softly, offering a smile. “You can do this.”
“Just give me a minute.”
I uncap the bottle of water I’ve been nursing on our drive through Chicago rush hour traffic, and take a sip. My hand shakes, and I quickly swipe a dribble of water from my chin before it drips onto my satin cocktail dress.
“Belle,” he tries again, crouching down on the sidewalk so we’re eye to eye. “Please.”
“I don’t like being away from Piper.”
“She was happy enough getting spoiled by Tandy,” Barrett says. He takes my bottled water and sets it down on the seat opposite. “Come on. I can’t do this without you.”
I soften a fraction. This can’t be easy for him either, so I take Barrett’s hand and let him pull me from the car. His grip is firm as he circles an arm around my waist. We’re almost the same height, but Barrett is broader. Not in a muscular way like… He’s not muscular. He’s just Barrett.
The early evening air is warm, but I shudder as I step closer to the four-story brown stone building in front of us.
The converted hotel has been transformed into a women’s refuge and drop-in center.
It’s the official opening, and whilst it’s a worthy cause, it feels less noble knowing it’s being funded in part by Griffin money.
I know where their money comes from. Ash had once told me how he got his business off the ground, and it wasn’t a story with a happy ending. It certainly put an end to our story.
“Are you sure it’s safe leaving Piper at the hotel?” I ask.
“Ray’s there to protect her, and besides, our biggest threat is in there,” he says, tipping his head to the refuge that’s anything but as far as I’m concerned. “We know where he is.”
“But what if we’re wrong, and Ash doesn’t know who your new wife is yet?”
“He knows,” Barrett insists. “But try seeing this evening as a good thing. You don’t have to worry about keeping secrets or hiding from him anymore, not with me by your side. Let’s rip off the Band-Aid and be done with it.”
With a gentle tug from my husband, my feet start to move. “Promise we won’t stay too long.”
“We’ll leave just as soon as we’ve shown our faces and Ash gets the message that you’re mine now,” Barrett reassures me.
His fingers dig into my hip in a gesture that feels possessive.
It’s as if he thinks Ash is going to immediately try to snatch me from him.
I hate that I can’t completely dismiss the possibility.
I have no idea how Ash is going to react to seeing me again.
I don’t know how I’m going to react. I’ve been dreading this moment for six years.
The windows to the refuge are screened to block out views from the outside, but as we draw closer, I catch my first glimpse of the dimly lit interior through the open doors. Only shadows await.
My dry mouth fills with saliva. I want to be sick.
The last time I saw Ash Griffin was the day he left Eastham Grove to be with his father. In the intervening years, I haven’t seen so much as a photo of him online, and I have looked. Barrett tells me Mace tightly restricts what information appears about the Griffins on the internet.
There are two men at the door checking IDs. They’re dressed in black with Kevlar vests and they wear earpieces. Their firearms are on clear display too, leaving no doubt that the venue is heavily guarded. I wonder if this is another of Ash’s power plays with Barrett.
I feel a twinge of guilt when I remember we’re entering a sanctuary for vulnerable women. Of course there would be security in place. When did I turn into someone who only sees the worst in people?
The guards nod us through without a word, and as we step inside, it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust. We’re in an expansive foyer, and the place is packed. I quickly scan faces, but my hammering heart doesn’t leap into my throat just yet.
All of the center’s major donors have been invited to the opening, and that includes Barrett. It’s admirable that he isn’t letting his personal feelings stop him from supporting a much-needed service.
“Are you OK?” I ask, remembering I’m not the only one about to come face to face with an ex. “Is it going to be hard seeing Maddie again?”
Barrett grabs two glasses of champagne from a passing server and hands one to me. “Maddie pales to insignificance compared to you,” he assures me with a smile that makes his eyes sparkle. “As difficult as it was at the time, I’m glad Hunter stole her away. I have a much better prize.”
I do my best to return his smile as we clink glasses, and I’m taking my first sip of champagne as I turn back to the crowd. Ash is coming straight towards us. His gaze is fixed on Barrett, for which I’m grateful as my stomach lurches and I spit my champagne back into my glass.
Time has treated Ash exceedingly well. The only discernible difference I can see is that he’s now sporting a perfectly groomed beard rather than the permanent five o’clock shadow that left stubble burns all over my body.
I blink away that thought, and every other inappropriate memory that flashes unbidden across my mind.
I focus instead on those whiskey-colored eyes that hold none of the warmth I remember.
Barrett was right. Ash knew to expect me.
“Barrett…” I whisper.
“I see him,” he says under his breath.
Ash is flanked by three women, and I focus on the one I recognize. Quinn’s expression is grim. We’d become good friends when we worked together, and with time, we could have been close. That seems unlikely now that we’ve chosen opposing sides.
“We’re pleased you could make it,” says the woman with long, auburn hair as she reaches us. Her deep green eyes are emotionless despite the cheeriness of her tone.
“You must be Lily,” Barrett replies, extending his hand. “I hear congratulations are in order for you too.” The meaning of the inflection is obvious, but I doubt anyone is going to congratulate Barrett and I on our marriage. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make Mace’s wedding.”
Her smile cuts a sharp line across her face. “You weren’t invited.”
The blond woman on Ash’s right scoffs. “Mace would have killed you on sight, Barrett,” she says, amusement dancing in her eyes.
“He still might,” Lily says under her breath.
I presume the blond is Maddie. For someone who was abducted on the day of her wedding, then coerced into marrying Hunter Griffin, she looks surprisingly comfortable on the arm of one of her kidnappers. But that isn’t what I find most unsettling about her.
Maddie’s blond hair is a shade darker than mine, but we have the same blue eyes, and we’re of similar height and frame. Am I simply a replacement for Barrett’s stolen bride? Or had he always had a vision of his perfect wife?
“Maddie, a pleasure as always,” Barrett says with more civility than her remark warrants.
“And for the record, if I’d collected all the knives the Griffins have used to stab me in the back, I would have made a small fortune in scrap metal by now.
” He turns to Ash and lifts his glass. “Isn’t that right, brother? ”
It’s sad to hear Barrett referring to any of the Griffins as a brother when they’ve treated him so despicably.
But despite smearing Barrett’s name and setting trap after trap, he still yearns for that connection with his closest blood relatives.
He refers to them as his brothers all the time. I’m not even sure he’s aware of it.
“Have you heard from Vasili lately?” Ash asks, keeping his gaze fixed on Barrett. I’d forgotten how deep his voice is, and goosebumps prickle my skin.
Barrett stiffens too, but for an entirely different reason. The mention of Vasili adds more tension to an already fraught atmosphere.
“I prefer to have as little as possible to do with those kinds of people,” Barrett replies smoothly. “Can you say the same?”
The Russian Bratva. The Irish mafia. Crime lords and their families.
They’re the people Barrett’s referring to.
It’s a world that’s entirely foreign to me, as it was to Barrett until his so-called brothers dragged him into a turf war.
I straighten my spine. I’m not sorry for keeping Piper away from Ash. I’m not sorry one bit.
Barrett was right. I don’t have to hide anymore, and I won’t let Ash pretend I don’t exist. I need to say something. If he won’t deign to look at me, he’s damn well going to hear my voice.
“Hello, Quinn,” I say, my voice quaking more than I’d like. “It’s been a while.”
Her features soften a fraction. “Only because you won’t pick up the phone,” she says.
I arch an eyebrow. She knows why I couldn’t. She chose a Griffin. But as I glance down at the swell of her belly, I’m reminded that once upon a time, I was going to choose one too.
Quinn notices me staring at her baby bump. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”
“As do Reid and I,” Barrett interjects before I can answer. “We must compare notes on fatherhood. My daughter is quite the handful.”
I’m not sure if I quite hide my flinch. I understand why Barrett wants to make a preemptive strike, but I’d prefer not to have Piper dragged into the brothers’ bitter feud.
I press my chin to my chest for fear of Ash finally turning his searing gaze on me, and as I look down, I notice Maddie and Quinn shuffling closer to him.
They’re expecting a reaction too, but if anything, Ash is frozen to the spot.
A new pair of shoes appear. Very large, black leather shoes.
“Ash, you’re needed upstairs,” the man says in a booming voice. I hear the slap of a hand on his back. “Might be an emergency.”
By the time I straighten, Ash is walking away with Maddie and Lily, leaving just Quinn and the new arrival.
“I’m Rory Moncrief,” the man with russet hair says, extending his hand. “I hope your stay at the Excelsis is to your liking.”