Keira #2
“But they fucking kidnapped you,” he grits. “Don’t you see that?”
“I know… And then it became more complicated than that.”
Fionn glances over his shoulder, then lowers his voice further. “You want to protect Saint Tallon. A man who’s violent and resorts to underhanded tactics to get what he wants?”
“I’m not protecting him,” I say. “I don’t need to report it to Crowley when I’ve got ownership of the only thing Saint wants. The one thing he risked everything for and didn’t get. I have his precious land. And I won’t be around for him to take it.”
Fionn sighs.
“The land’s in your name,” he says. “But it belongs to the Harrington trust.”
I stare at him. “That makes no sense.”
“You’re the named beneficiary,” he lowers his voice. “That means Saint needs your signature. But you can’t sell it, transfer it, or hand control to anyone outside the trust without trustee consent.”
“And our father controls the trustees, right?”
A cold feeling moves through me.
“Exactly.”
Saint thought taking me would force my father’s hand.
But my father had already moved the game somewhere out of reach.
“Coming home was the worst mistake of my life,” I add.
His expression changes, the hard set of his mouth giving way for a second. “Don’t say that.”
“Why? It’s not like you came to Paris to see me?”
“You were lovin’ life with some French guy called Lucien.”
I let out a slow breath. “How do you know his name?”
He looks away first, glancing along the length of the corridor where staff keep themselves out of sight.
When he runs a hand through his choppy hair, I see the big brother who pretended I was his annoying kid sister around his friends so they wouldn’t look at me, and the only person who stepped in when my father’s men eyed me up at parties.
“I think it’s a good idea if you disappear for a while.”
I stare at him. “How about forever?”
“Once things settle down here, I’ll come get you. Take the jet wherever you want to go. Paris. New York. Rome. I don’t care. I’ll get you sorted with a temporary place to stay and make sure you have whatever you need.”
The offer should loosen something in me. Instead, it sits there like a ticking clock.
“I’m old enough now not to live at home.”
“We’re family, Keira,” he mutters. “And like Dad said, one day we’ll own this place and half of Black Heath.”
I look at him, at the brother who always picked locks to reach me, who sent Riley to fight for me, who’s helping me fly away before our father forces me into his war.
He’s trying to save me in the only language this family ever taught him, by arranging, ordering, removing.
I nod and turn toward the staircase. “We’ll talk about it in a few months.”
“Keira.”
On the next step, I pause, one hand hovering over the banister.
He stands at the bottom, suit immaculate, expression shadowed where the chandelier light can’t touch him.
“Tallons and Harringtons have never mixed well.” His jaw muscles clench. “Saint’s father had something to do with our aunt’s death.”
“What?”
“Dad doesn’t talk about it.”
“So why bring it up?”
“I’m telling you there’s more to this than land. There’s a history there, too.” His eyes lock onto me. “She died because Saint’s father lied to her.”
“What about?”
He glances toward the dining room doors. “That I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”
I come down one step. “What really happened to Sera that night?”
His head cocks to the side as if I’ve woken something primal in him.
“I know you were with her,” I tell him. “She said you were.”
For a second, he just stares. No smooth answer polished enough to pass as truth. Just a man standing before me with secrets under his skin.
“I don’t need to discuss business with you.”
“Business,” I mutter, shaking my head. “It’s like that, is it?”
“Keira.”
“No. I’m done with this.” My hand grips the banister now. “I’m done with all the lies and being fed half a story.”
He slides a hand into his pocket, calm and composed as always. “I’ll come for you in a few months, okay?”
“It took you long enough when I was at Black Heath Stud.”
“They spread rumors you’d run off with your French lover,” he says. “As soon as I had my men confirm you hadn’t gone back to that cheating French fuck, I sent Riley.”
The answer should give me a clean place to put the hurt.
It doesn’t.
It only shows me how foolish I was to think distance had changed anything.
I’d been living away from home, drinking coffee in Paris cafés, sleeping in a bed no one in this house had chosen for me, and still they knew what I got up to and who screwed me over.
Despite having privacy, I was still a Harrington, and Harringtons are watched even when they think they’re free.
“You know Lucien cheated?”
Fionn nods. “He’s lucky I didn’t put a bullet in his fucking face.”
“Can you arrange a car for me?”
“I’ll drive you to the airport myself.”
I shake my head, already moving up the staircase. “A driver is fine. You should stay here with them.”
In my room, I pack fast without bothering to get changed. The green dress stays on, the silk whispering around my thighs as I pull outfits from drawers and shove them into a case.
Passport. Charger. Underwear. Makeup bag. The earrings from the dressing table, because they are mine even if they came from this house.
The last time I left home to travel, I knew I’d come back. This time, I can’t imagine sleeping in this bed again.
Downstairs, the regular driver waits by the front door. He nods and takes my suitcase while I follow him to the waiting town car.
Once the door closes, I stare out at my family home and swallow the lump in my throat.
“The airport, Miss Harrington?” he confirms from the front seat.
“Yes, please.”
As we pull away, I keep my face turned forward, but there’s an unsettled knot in my chest.
A heaviness that needs to be released before I can move on with my life.