Page 45 of Brutal Heir (Ruthless Heirs #3)

brIGID O’SHEA

A lessandro

Suffocating dread claws its way up my throat, wrenching me from a fitful sleep.

My chest is tight, lungs dragging in sharp gulps of air.

Sweat slicks my skin as I blink into the dim room…

and see her. Rory. Curled against me like she belongs there.

But the knot in my chest doesn't ease because everything between us has changed.

Dio , for a second I hoped it was all a bad dream.

But it’s real, too real.

She lied to me about everything.

A part of me understands why. She’d been in an impossible position, but I’m still furious at her betrayal. Worse, I’m fucking hurt.

Raking my hands over my face, I draw in a steadying breath to slow my racing pulse.

She’s safe. She’s still here with me. Perspiration coats my forehead, dampening my hair and sticking to my skin as I glance at the clock on the nightstand.

Just past four in the morning. I squeeze my eyes closed and an onslaught of images assaults my senses, a carousel of lies.

The day Rory strolled into my apartment, all sizzling attitude.

The time she came after me at Serena’s engagement party.

The first time I brought her to the Velvet Vault and let her see the real me.

Each meaningful encounter, every word from her lips had been a lie.

Hell, I dove headfirst into the dark world of the Geminis, the one I’d vowed to avoid for the rest of my life for her.

That anger bubbles up again, threatening to choke out the love filling my chest. Now who’s the liar?

Not even a thousand sins could drown out what I feel for her.

She’s the lie I can’t live without. The sin I’d commit again and again just to taste one more night in her arms.

If I wasn’t so certain I couldn’t live without her, I would have walked out of here last night and never returned.

Let her have the penthouse, my money, my car, all of it.

Because none of it matters without her.

She is the one thing I can never walk away from, the fiery female who has branded herself into my soul.

I finally allow my gaze to drift to the perfect form curled into my side.

To that pert little nose and the thirteen freckles that cover it, to the soft skin of her cheeks and those pouty lips I could spend a lifetime kissing.

A rueful chuckle nearly spills out beneath the predawn light of my bedroom.

I would never leave her. In the past month and a half, Rory Delaney, or I suppose, Brigid O’Shea, has become my world.

I swirl her real name around in my mouth, and somehow, it doesn’t quite fit as well as the one she chose for herself.

O’Shea…

Closing my eyes, I attempt to recall any facts about the crime family in Belfast. The Butcher is a well-known figure in the Irish mob world, but O’Shea? There are probably hundreds of them in Northern Ireland alone.

Who’s your father, little leprechaun?

And why would he force you to marry that monster?

My fingers sweep a strand of auburn hair behind her ear before I can stop them. Then they linger on her cheek, my thumb brushing her porcelain skin. I count her freckles again, a way to ground myself.

There would be no more sleep for me tonight.

I need answers.

Hunched over my desk, I pore through articles about the crime families of Belfast. Of course, the notorious Conall Quinlan stars on the front pages. Human trafficking, blackmail and extortion rings, assassins for hire, massacres, terrorism…

The man is a real pezzo di merda .

A chill surges up my spine as I consider what would have happened if Rory hadn’t fled. What if she’d married that depraved mobster?

Dio … how had she managed to escape a man with a reach like that? He must have men everywhere.

Another swell of fear, thick and potent, floods my chest. The shooting in Central Park on Christmas Day. What if I wasn’t the target? Cazzo , what if I was wrong, and this wasn’t La Spada Nera at all?

I reach for my phone despite the ungodly hour and type out a quick message to Matteo. The Geminis have a ton of hackers on staff, but none are as talented as my cousin.

Matteo: Why are you waking me up at five a.m.?

Me: Because it’s an emergency, asshole

My phone rings a split-second later.

“What’s going on?” Despite the rough edge to his voice, Matteo is alert and ready. A side effect of growing up in this family is being ready for anything at any hour.

“I need you to find everything you can about Conall Quinlan. Then Brigid O’Shea. They were engaged.”

“The Butcher of Belfast?” he blurts.

“The one and only.”

“Why? Are the Irish causing problems at the Vault?”

“I don’t have time to get into it right now, but I will tomorrow. Just get me everything as fast as you can.”

“Will do, cuz.” He pauses, a yawn seeping through the line. “Does that desperation in your tone have something to do with your naughty little nurse?”

“Yes. Which is why it’s urgent.”

“Got it. Give me an hour.”

“Thanks, Matty.”

“I live to serve.”

A chuckle sneaks out as I hang up despite the fear strangling my lungs. Thank Dio for my cousin. I’m not sure what I would do without him.

“If you keep abandoning me in your bed, I’ll start to get a complex.

” Rory leans against the doorway in her nightgown, her expression one I’ve never seen before.

The snarky, sharp-tongued spitfire is nowhere to be found.

For once, she actually appears nervous, shy even, like she’s holding her breath awaiting my reaction.

I can’t blame her after last night.

“Come here,” I whisper, and even though my voice is low, the command is clear.

She obeys, tiptoeing toward me as if walking across broken glass.

After I fucked her on the couch, I took her again in my bed and that time was softer, sweeter, more pleasure than punishment. But still, the air between us is charged, like the atmosphere before a thunderstorm.

She settles into my lap, curling into a ball before she tips her chin to stare up at me. “Are we okay?”

Inhaling a steadying breath, I murmur, “We will be. Eventually.”

“Good.” She buries her nose into the crook of my neck, her soft breaths tickling my skin. “Because I meant what I said yesterday, Ale. I love you, and I’m not going anywhere. So you better figure out what I need to do for you to forgive me so I can get started on it.”

As if I have any other choice.

Walking away from her isn’t an option anymore. I’m not sure it ever was.

Her words settle into me like a brand, burning through every wall I’ve tried to rebuild overnight.

I drag a hand through her hair, fingers tangling in the wild auburn mess that somehow started to feel like home. “You want a list?” I mutter. “You think this is something you can fix like a flat tire or a broken pipe?”

She lifts her head, eyes fierce now despite the soft tremble of her bottom lip. “Anything can be fixed, Ale.”

Fuck.

How do I stay angry when she’s looking at me like that—like she’s not just sorry, but ready to bleed to make it right? The woman lied to me, but she also stayed. When she had every reason to bolt, she dug in her heels and fought for me.

I lean in and press my forehead to hers. “I don’t need you to fix anything. I just need the truth. No more lies. No more half-truths. If I’m going to fight for us, I need to know you’re in this with me for real.”

“I am.” There’s no hesitation, her voice steady and resolute. “Every lie I told was to get away from the life I never wanted. But you…” Her eyes search mine, raw and vulnerable. “You’re the first real thing I’ve had in a long time. I didn’t mean to fall for you, Ale. I just did.”

I clutch her tighter. “I’m still pissed. Still hurt. But I’d rather be ruined beside you than whole without you.”

She lets out a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging in relief. “So… we’re not over?” The fact that she feels the necessity to ask again cracks through the remaining frost around my heart.

I grip her jaw and kiss her, not hard or desperate, a promise. “We’re not fucking over, Red. Not even close.”

The storm between us hasn’t passed, but maybe I can learn how to survive it. With her.

I consider telling her my suspicions about Conall and the shooting, but until I have proof, I don’t want to spook her. I can’t imagine what that man must have put her through. And I need to know.

“Tell me about Brigid O’Shea.”

She nods, her bottom lip quivering. Then she draws in a shaky breath, like she’s preparing to bleed out every secret she’s buried.

“Brigid O’Shea died the night I ran,” she whispers. “I buried her along with the blade in Conall’s thigh on our wedding day and a suitcase of lies.”

I stay quiet, giving her space. Letting her words come when they’re ready.

“My da promised me to Conall when I was fifteen, a few years after Mam died. He said it would keep the Quinlans and the O’Sheas aligned. He said it was an honor. Said Conall would protect me.” Her voice warps around the word protect, like it physically hurts to say.

My hands tighten around hers, but I don’t interrupt.

“By eighteen, I knew what he really was. Controlling. Vicious. The kind of man who got off on fear. He kept me in a cage of luxury, wore a mask of charm around the family, but behind closed doors…” Her throat bobs as she swallows.

“He never left bruises where they’d show, and the worst ones don’t show up on skin anyway. ”

My jaw clenches, rage churning just beneath the surface. But I force it down, because this moment isn’t about me. It’s about her surviving it.

“I tried to leave once,” she continues, voice barely a whisper now. “He found me before I got more than a few blocks. Told me next time, it wouldn’t be just me who paid for it. He made sure I knew how easily he could hurt my brothers, Blaine and Bran. So I stayed. For two more years.”

Her eyes meet mine, shimmering but unbroken.

“The day I escaped was our wedding day. I’d had it all planned out for months.

My best friend Maeve helped. I knew I was putting my brothers, hell, my whole family at risk, but if they didn’t care enough to protect me from Conall then I didn’t give a feck about them either. ”

I can’t breathe for a second. The weight of her truth presses down on my chest like a stone.

“So I became Rory Delaney. Found a fake nurse registry through someone Maeve knew, took what little money I had, and ran. I didn’t look back.” She squeezes my hand. “Until you.”

My voice is hoarse when it finally comes. “ Dio , Rory, you should have told me sooner.” I’m not sure how many more times I can punish her with the same words.

“I thought if you knew who I was, what I came from, you’d never be able to see me as anything else. At first, I just needed the job and then as I got to know you, I didn’t want to be a burden. I wanted to be… worth something.”

I cup her face gently, my thumb brushing away a stray tear. “You could never be a burden. And damaged doesn’t scare me, you should know that. But losing you would.”

Her breath catches. “Even after all the lies?”

“Especially after the truth.”

And in the silence that follows, I make a promise to myself not just to protect her from Conall Quinlan for the limited amount of time he has left on this earth, but to make damn sure she never has to be Brigid O’Shea again.