Chapter 22 #2
She's quiet for a long moment. Then, softly, “I’m beginning to. But I want you to tell me exactly what we're going into.” I see that fierceness that makes her my girl.
She's survived losing her father. She's survived her mother’s narcissistic control and another man’s control. Bianca will never be controlled again.
She needs to own this. She needs to be in charge of the decisions she makes. And I feel that to my very core.
“Would you like to know what we're going into?” I ask her, reaching my hand to brush her knee.
She moves a little closer to me and makes a sound in her throat like a stifled moan, and I'm instantly fucking hard.
Christ, it takes all my self-control not to pull this car over, drag her onto my lap, and rail her right on the side of the road.
Now that I've had her, it's all I can think about.
I clear my throat. “My name is Ashland McCarthy, Bianca.”
I let that settle for a moment, and I feel her recoil from my touch.
“No,” she whispers. “Ashland—” But she doesn't say anything else. By now, I've gained a little bit of her trust, more than I've ever had, and I hope it's enough. Christ, it has to be enough.
I clear my throat. “My father is Nolan McCarthy. My two brothers are Donovan and Lorcan McCarthy.”
I look at the dash. We're flying through the empty streets, driving faster than is safe, but we have to get to Seamus. We have to make sure she's safe.
“Tell me,” she says in a small voice. “Tell me your side of the story.”
I love that she wants to know, and she isn’t jumping to conclusions. Who knows what her mother’s fed her?
I nod. “Your father worked for us, Bianca. He ran the underground fighting ring. One day, we had a fight break out, and shots were fired. We told your father to run for cover. I was there that day, but he didn’t make it.
He tried to protect anyone he could, and he was taken down.
” I swallow hard. “He died serving my family and the residents of Ballyhock.”
“My father worked for you,” she says in a small voice. She doesn't even know who her father was. “My mother tells a very different story.”
That doesn’t surprise me.
I squeeze her knee. “He wasn't mafia. Never inducted, no. But your mother never forgave us. She took the money we gave her, month after month, all the while plotting your marriage to Crowning. ”
“My god.” She shakes her head. “My mother told me the McCarthys were responsible for my father's death, but something always bothered me about that.”
“Your mother has a way of twisting things, doesn't she?”
“Right,” she whispers. “How do I know this is true, Ashland?”
I blow out a breath. “Everything I told you about Crowning was true, wasn't it?”
Bianca's mother has more to gain from her daughter's hand in marriage, doesn't she? Crowning's estate.
There's more going on here than she realizes. Maybe more than any of us realize.
“What's going on, Ashland?”
“I'll have to look into it, but I suspect that your mother has more to gain than you marrying Crowning.” I grip the steering wheel tighter. This is going to hurt her. But she deserves the truth.
“What do you mean?” she asks, shaking her head.
“Your mother and Marcus Crowning Sr. have been having an affair for years now.”
The silence in the car is deafening.
“That's not—” Bianca starts, then stops. “That's impossible. We don't even run in the same circles. My mother works two jobs. We barely?— ”
“Bianca.” I glance at her, seeing confusion and denial warring on her face. “Your mother used to be friends with Mrs. Crowning. Before she started sleeping with her husband.”
“No.” She shakes her head vehemently. “No, my mother wouldn't—it’s a tiny apartment. She works constantly. She can barely afford?—”
“She can afford it because my family has been sending her money every month for the past ten years.”
Bianca goes completely still.
“After your father died, my family set up a provision for you and your mother.
We've been paying your bills, your rent, everything. But your mother…” I pause, choosing my words carefully.
“She's been using that money for more than just survival.
Expensive clothes. Country club memberships.
Whatever it took to get into the Crownings' good graces.”
“You're lying.” Her voice is barely a whisper.
“I'm not. And I can prove it.” I check the time. We're ten minutes out. “Your mother has been living the high life on McCarthy money, making you think you were living like paupers, while feeding you lies about us being monsters. All so she could position herself, and you, closer to the Crownings.”
“Why would she do that?” Bianca's voice cracks.
“Because she wanted revenge against my family, believing us responsible for your father’s death.
And what better revenge than to marry her daughter off to a man she knew would kill you eventually?
She's been Marcus Crowning's mistress for years, love. She knew exactly what his son was. She knew what would happen to you.”
Bianca makes a small, wounded sound.
“I'll never make an accusation I can't back up,” I tell her firmly. “When we get to the house, I'll show you the financial records. The bank transfers. Everything. Your mother used you, Bianca. She's been using you from the start.”
She's shaking now, tears streaming down her face. I reach over and take her hand, but she doesn't squeeze back this time.
“It's vitally important to your mother that she stays on top, that she gains from all this, right? She's fed you lies about the McCarthys because god forbid anyone think we aren't monsters.”
“I don't know what you're getting at, Ashland, but I do trust you.
It's my mother I don't trust. Or Marcus.” She looks out the window.
“I just… You have to understand. For the last ten years, I thought your family was responsible for my father's death.” She pauses. “And you’re saying the McCarthys have been paying our bills?”
“Aye. The electric bill. The water. The groceries delivered every week to your door. The property taxes.” I pull out my phone, opening files I shouldn't, but do. “I could show you. Every payment, every month, every year. Itemized.”
I scroll through, turning the screen toward her. “Here's last month. The month before that, we covered a three-thousand-dollar dentist bill she racked up. Before that, we paid for the new furnace when yours died in February.”
Her face has gone white and her eyes wide.
“Your mother never worked a day after your father died,” I continue, my voice hard.
“Never had to. The McCarthys made sure of it. Made sure you never went without. Guilt money, maybe. Blood money, definitely. But it kept a roof over your head and food in your belly for ten fucking years while she was busy teaching you to hate us.”
“My god,” she whispers. “She told me for years that we were poor because of the McCarthys, that it was your family’s fault…” She shakes her head.
“Aye. She used you, love. I’m sorry.”
“I know.” She exhales. “I suspected that when she suddenly started buying me dresses and shoes to go out with Marcus to have fancy dinners. I just—my father's gone, and my mother lied to me . ” She shakes her head. “But good riddance to Marcus.”
I squeeze her knee.
She squares her shoulders and sits up straighter. “But I'm with you now, and I want to know what I'm going into. Who else will be there?”
“I don't know exactly, but I'll give you the quick rundown,” I say. “My cousin Seamus is the head of the McCarthy clan.”
“The Undertaker,” she whispers. “Everybody from here to the northernmost tip of Ireland knows who Seamus McCarthy is.”
I nod and squeeze her hand. “Aye, but he's—he's on our side. Mostly.” I don't give her the details. “Lorcan will be there.”
She swallows and nods. “Okay.”
“He looks like me but with more hair.” She smiles, and something in my chest heaves. I draw in a ragged breath. “Dependable and loyal, but lacks real-world experience still.”
“Got it.”
“Cavin—he's second in command to Seamus. Married to Erin Kavanagh.”
“Heard about that,” she says. “Saw it online. They were enemies but got married anyway, didn’t they? Will your parents be there?”
“Likely not, but I'll arrange for you to meet them too.”
“What if they don't like me?” she whispers .
“Impossible,” I whisper back. “Anyone who knows the real you can't help but fall madly in love. Even if they did, it doesn't matter to me. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” she says. “I do. Who else?”
“My Aunt Caitlin. Sweetest woman you’ll ever meet, but with a spine of steel. My Uncle Keenan, likely. But Seamus is the one in charge now. He runs these meetings. His brother, my cousin Cavin, is there. My cousin Declan. Have you heard of him?”
“Definitely,” she says with a laugh. “Who hasn't heard of Declan McCarthy? He's a bit of a legend too, isn't he?”
I grumble under my breath.
“How's Tiernan?” she asks quietly.
“He's grand.”
“So… are there any other women, or is this just a male-dominated society?” She gives me a sidelong glance.
I snicker. “Seamus and Cavin's sisters, Kyla and Bronwyn, are part of our contingent. And no, they're not side characters. They're the main action. Bronwyn is the youngest. She's sweet and fairly innocent. And Kyla is a force to be reckoned with.”
She nods, taking it all in. “I—okay, I can see that.”
“They're fierce but loyal. You'll see. You'll like them,” I say.
“Okay.”
The McCarthy estate looms ahead, all stone and iron gates that have stood for three generations. It's grand and majestic and intimidating. All I can think about is how secure it is. Behind those walls, Crowning and his men cannot touch her. It's a veritable fortress.
Her hand tightens in mine as I pull through the entrance.
“It's big,” she whispers.
I laugh. “Aye, the family bought it decades ago. Wanted something that felt like home.” I glance at her. “It's safe here. No one gets past these gates. If I didn’t think Seamus might murder me, I’d have brought you here much sooner.”