Chapter 32 #2
“If it makes you happy. There’s little I want more than that.”
Surprise bubbled into warm fizziness that radiated from my chest out. Again, it hit me. He loved me.
I drank the coffee down, the backs of my eyes smarting.
Peopling was exhausting. I was good at it, having been forced to be. I even enjoyed it most of the time. That didn’t mean it didn’t take its toll, but no one had ever noticed before. No one but him. My lover, my boyfriend, my husband.
“You see me,” I whispered.
His forehead pressed to mine. “I do. I see you. I cannot unsee you.”
“Why me?” Why you? was the real question.
“Because there’s no other woman in the world like you. You’re in my line of sight, mo leannán, and I refuse to let you out of it.”
My smile was brittle. This was supposed to have been a means to an end. A bet to hurt him the way he hurt me. He was supposed to fall in love with me, never the other way around. Yet I couldn’t deny these feelings butterflying around in my stomach or how he tied me up in knots.
My trap had snared us both. This wasn’t just sex.
This was waking up to him in the morning happy.
Basking in his touch. Bickering over which movie to watch or whose taste in food was better.
This was my heart unfolding in his care and never wanting to let him go.
This was about growing old with the love of my life.
That meant I had to tell him the truth. I had to tell him I was his wife.
He loved me. That meant something. This wasn’t a crush or pure lust. That had to mean more than his pledge to cut ties over a little harmless twist of the truth. What was a name after all? It didn’t define who I was. He’d realize there was nothing to it and be happy.
Happy? I groaned silently. This was Cillian I was talking about. His smiles and laughs were as rare as finding a four-leaf clover.
I scratched a hand down my thigh through my dress. I was so screwed. He was going to hate me. Then I’d be back to square one. Actually, worse. Negative one, because I’d know exactly what I had and how I lost it.
“Alice, you alright?”
I nodded because what was I supposed to say? How did I even bring up this topic without blurting it out and ruining the whole night?
“You sure? Because you’ve been frozen behind that espresso cup for the last minute.”
I quickly set it down, and after realizing that wasn’t a normal reaction, I combed my fingers through my hair with a sheepish smile.
“You have to tell me if you’re not feeling well.” His palm settled against my jumping knee and rubbed up and down.
“I’m fine.”
“Be sure about it.” He interlocked our fingers. “I’ve got a whole day planned for us tomorrow.” He twisted my hand around and kissed my palm. “Every romantic bone in my body is coming out to play.”
“I don’t believe I’ve ever met someone more romantic than you.” Two months ago, I never would’ve said those words about this man. Time and perspective really changed everything.
“For you. Only ever for you. But if you’re not well, we’ll put it off to another day.”
Again, those butterflies burst into a frenzied flight deep down and flurried all the way up to my cheeks.
“Tomorrow is perfect.”
It would be, and then after our date was up, I’d tell him. I’d lay it all out and hope I meant as much to him as those three words meant to me.
The buzz of my phone in my clutch saved me from any more of his prying into whatever he read off my face. I was usually so good at hiding what I was feeling. Not tonight, and not with him, apparently. As I rummaged through my clutch, the phone kept ringing.
With a look at the caller ID, I frowned. Already three missed calls.
“What?” Cillian asked, suddenly alert, voice grave.
“No, it’s…my brother. He never calls me. At least not since I’ve been here.”
“Who’s your brother?”
“A banking conglomerate, among other things.”
“Have I met him?”
“Most definitely.” I froze, realizing I had almost said too much.
My mind rushed through the reasons Adrien could have for calling me directly instead of going through Erel, like he’d done for the last couple of months. Was this about our younger brother?
“Sorry, I have to take this.”
I glided away from the table and strode up the stairs to the balconies for a little measure of privacy, fully aware that Cillian sent Paulie and Arthur after me. I huddled against one of the windowed doors, my back to the public, and redialed Adrien.
“It’s about time,” my brother greeted in French, cold and aloof.
“What’s going on? Who died?”
“You need to get away from Cillian O’Leary. Today. Right now.”
I glanced around me. “What’s the threat level?”
“The cartel put a hit on him. Two point five million dollars dead. Ten million alive.”
“Tell me you aren’t going to take it, Adrien,” I hissed.
“I should.”
“Should but won’t. Right? Adrien?” I growled his name, then tapped my forehead against the glass. “You can’t. Please. Don’t.”
“I’ll never understand you.”
“Take the hit offline. Spread the word he’s family.”
“Is he?”
“Yes, he fucking is. Okay? You happy now?” My breath fogged a circle into the window.
“You better be certain about this.”
“I know.” Jitters popped in my stomach at the thought of how tomorrow would go once I told him the truth. Just one more perfect date, then I’d break it to him who I really was. “Did Erel tell you about my request?”
“Alizé…The cartel…”
“What? So they can place a hit but can’t get one in return? No. I want Sosa dead, Adrien. I want his threats on Boston and Cillian to end once and for all. If you won’t do it for me, do it for the damn paycheck. I’ll triple their payout. Fuck, I’ll even quintuple it. That enough for you?”
The line went silent, except for my brother’s leaden exhales.
“You love him.”
Yeah, no. No way was I confirming that to my brother before I told Cillian.
“I suspected,” he continued. “I’ve already put some men in place, but not enough. What you’re asking for isn’t just Sosa. This would mean the entire upper echelon. I need time.”
I called bullshit on that delay. Endgame was known for its fast response time and high success rate.
“Time isn’t what we’ve got if some bastard takes the hit and breaks code.” The code that stated that family members of fellow hitmen in their vast network were off-limits.
“Well, if you kept us up to date once in a while, maybe we’d know you don’t hate the asshole anymore, and we could’ve planned better for this.”
“Or maybe you and Erel could have taken me seriously to begin with when I first brought this up?”
“When have we been the type of family that communicates?”
I huffed my agreement. Truer words had never been spoken.
“Oh, and by the way, Tessa’s pregnant. You’re going to be an aunt.”
Point proven.
I scratched a nail between my brows. “Your announcement is shit, but congrats. I’ll call her in the next couple of days. I have to go.”
I took a few moments to collect myself, then squared my shoulders and jumped back into the fray.
Galas waited for no woman, as seen by the fact that down below, people were congregating at their tables for the dinner service.
A projector screen unrolled near the stairs, and a speaker positioned himself behind a newly brought out podium.
The problem was Cillian no longer sat at our table, and I couldn’t pick him out of the crowd below.
My heart rate thrummed faster and faster the more I paced around the balcony edges, looking over each guest without success.
The hit. Had someone accepted it already? Shit, I needed to find him.
“Do either of you know where Cillian went?” I asked Paulie, my hand grazing the marble balcony balustrade. Both he and Arthur stood only a few feet away.
“We’ve been with you, ma’am.”
Panic threatened to swallow me whole. “We need to find him. Now. I cannot see him downstairs. Do you?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Arthur, can you check the entrance? See if he is there.”
“We’re not to leave you,” Arthur said, his tone grave, his no-shit attitude at play ever since I knocked him out. “Under any circumstances.”
I licked my lips, an argument on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it down. If someone was about to carry out the hit, time was of the essence.
“Fine, follow me.” I wrapped my dress train around one hand and hurried toward the staircase.