Page 17 of Beautiful Trauma (The Irish Rogues #5)

S taring forlornly out the car window, I watched the landscape pass me by in a blur.

Although I’d never been to Ireland, I had no desire to take in any of the tourist sites or culture.

If it hadn’t been for the opportunity to acquire such an impressive collection for the gallery, I would’ve never consented to step foot in the country.

The irony wasn’t lost on me that after my involvement with an Irish man, out of all the places in the world a priceless collection would come available, it would be in Ireland.

The call about the collection had come through just a day after I was still licking my wounds from the disastrous meeting with the Kavanaughs.

Although I often traveled to other states and countries to acquire art, I was in no mood to leave my apartment, least of all Philly.

But deep down, I knew I couldn’t say no.

I owed it to the gallery and to myself to score such a collection.

It would be yet another way of rubbing my father’s nose in my independent success.

Glancing down at my lap, I eyed the glossy catalogue the owner had sent me of their collection.

My finger traced over the image of a sought after painting of Romeo and Juliet .

Although the couple was wrapped in a tight embrace, the title captured the true essence of the story– The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet.

I certainly could feel their plight of family dynamics fucking up their lives. If Juliet hadn’t been a Capulet and Romeo a Montague, they would’ve been able to ride off into the sunset. Well, barring the fact they were fifteen and thirteen.

If I wasn’t a Korolova and Kellan wasn’t a Kavanaugh, would there have been the potential for a future for us? That thought had been a constant in my mind over the last couple of days.

Of course, I had to reason that Juliet hadn’t seduced Romeo for information about his family.

Nor had she drugged him after having the best sex of her life.

In the end, we gave old Romeo and Juliet a run for their money for doomed affairs.

Sure, they called it love after just meeting. I knew I didn’t love Kellan.

I’d just liked him more than I should.

And that I still liked him more than I should.

At that moment, the car came to a stop in front of a sprawling mansion. It looked just like the type of home a reclusive art collector would have. Excitement bubbled within me at getting a look inside at even more treasures.

After the driver opened the door for me, I stepped out onto the gravel.

Since I was flying back in the evening, I only had a small carry-on with me. After the driver got it out of the trunk, I made my way up the stone steps to the front door. A butler answered the bell.

“Hello, I’m Mila Korolova.”

He nodded. “I’ve been instructed to take you to the study.”

“Thank you.”

Although I’d grown up surrounded by wealth, I couldn’t help admiring the opulence of the foyer. My heels clicked down the marble floors as I followed the butler. He opened the first door on the left. “Please make yourself comfortable. He’ll be right with you.”

“I appreciate it.”

As my eyes scanned the room, I set my bag and purse down on one of the leather couches. Even though it wasn’t part of the collection, I couldn’t help admiring the oil painting over the marble fireplace.

I whirled around at the sound of footsteps in the hallway. When the door opened, I stared in confusion as a familiar face came striding towards me. My mind spun trying to figure out where I knew him from.

And then it hit me.

Father had shoved his phone in my face on the way home from the meeting to brag about Annika’s new fiance. On the screen was the man before me–Brian Byrne. “What are you doing here?”

A cruel smirk curved on his lips. “Welcome to my home, Ms. Korolova.”

I gasped. “ Your home?”

“Yes, this is the Byrne family estate.”

As my mind spun in confusion, I slowly shook my head. “But the address was registered to Vance Doyle.”

With an apathetic shrug, he replied, “For security purposes, we don’t keep it in our name. I’m surprised Bratva doesn’t do the same.”

Although unease prickled up my spine, I fought to keep my face impassive. “Why all the subterfuge to bring me here? Since we have an alliance, I would have come if you asked.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. There is no alliance.”

A nervous laugh bubbled from my lips. “Considering I was at the meeting, I’m pretty sure there is one.”

Brian walked over to the bar. “Would you like a drink?”

“I’d like you to explain your meaning.”

He flashed me a shark-like smile. “You’re not one to beat around the bush, are you?”

“No. I’m not.”

As Brian poured an amber liquid into a crystal glass, he said, “I’m sorry I only have whiskey to offer you. I know how much you Russians prefer your vodka.”

When I merely stared at him, he chuckled. “Okay, okay. I’ll cut to the point.”

“I would appreciate that.”

He threw back the contents of the glass. “Do you think honesty is important in a relationship, Ms. Korolova?”

I furrowed my brows at him. “Excuse me?”

“Let’s say in business. Should one always be honest when entering into a contract?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

He nodded. “So do I.”

“If you’re alluding to the fact the contract between you and Annika is dishonest, you’re wrong.”

His expression darkened. “Are you sure about that?”

“You said it yourself that the alliance was very beneficial to your family.”

“That’s before I realized I was getting damaged goods.”

“Excuse me?”

After downing another whiskey, Brian went over to the massive mahogany desk. He swept a manila folder off it before he came over to me. When he opened the file, I held my hand out, but he didn’t pass it over. Instead, he flicked photo after photo at me.

One glance at a fluttering image told me everything I needed to know. He’d discovered Annika’s well kept secret.

She was a lesbian.

When Brian stared expectantly at me, I replied, “I didn’t need the theatrics.”

“So, you’re well aware of your sister’s sexual orientation.”

“Of course I am.”

“Then you also willingly deceived me.”

With my patience running thin, I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “While I’m not well-versed with marital contracts, I assume there isn’t a box to check whether you prefer dick or pussy.”

Brian barked out a laugh at my response. “Aren’t you a frank one?”

“Yes, I am. As long as Annika consummated the marriage and gave you children, why do you care if she fucks women? It isn’t like underworld men are ever faithful.”

In a flash, the amusement drained from Brian’s face. “But our wives are!” he blared, causing me to jump. I’d barely recovered before he rushed forward to close the gap between us.

“Do you know what would happen to my reputation if it got out that my wife preferred fucking a strap on to my cock?” He shook his head manically back and forth. “I would be the fucking laughing stock of the underworld.”

“But if she was discreet–”

“You should know as well as I do that nothing in our world truly stays buried.”

I swallowed hard. “Then what do you plan to do?”

His gaze trailed down my body. “Take the next available Korolova daughter.”

Icy fear pelted against me at his words, causing me to stagger back. I gripped the arm of the sofa to keep from falling. “Me?”

He chuckled. “Why do you act so surprised? You’re unattached to any marital contracts, and you’re just as attractive as your cunt of a sister.”

No, no, no! This couldn’t be happening. As I fought to keep from losing it, I countered, “My father agreed to this?”

I’d been there in the meeting and heard how much my father wanted the alliance with the Byrnes. Because of his feelings, I couldn’t imagine he would want me to outshine Annika. Of course, while she might’ve been his favorite, not even his partiality to her would have him walking away from the deal.

“No. This is all my doing.”

A tiny flicker of hope burned in me that Father didn’t know. “He will never agree to this.”

“He will when he’s persuaded.” Brian loomed over me. “And trust me, Ms. Korolova, I can be very persuasive.”

I drew my shoulders back. “I have a life in America, Mr. Byrne. I will not give it up simply because you want to throw a tantrum about Annika’s sexuality. You can find yourself another bride.”

His palm cracked against my cheek so hard that my vision blurred. As a cry escaped my lips, I pressed my palm against my aching skin.

“How dare you speak to me like that?” Brian demanded.

I didn’t reply. Instead, I started backing away from him to head for the door. At his maniacal smile, I shuddered. “Oh my wife, you’re not going anywhere.”