Page 54 of Brutal Heir (Ruthless Heirs #3)

MARRYING A MONSTER

R ory

What if I jump?

I peel back the thick hunter green curtain and stare out into the miles of endless gray beyond the Quinlan estate.

Would I die or only be hopelessly broken and ten times worse off than I am now?

On the positive side, maybe Conall would be disgusted by a wife with fractured limbs and a shattered spine, and he’d finally leave me alone. Or he could enjoy my suffering and only prolong it.

Heaving out a breath, I draw the curtain back across the picture window and turn toward the cold breakfast set out on a table beside the bed. One of the maids had brought it in this morning as I pretended to sleep.

A tiny, foolish part of me thought maybe I’d have a chance to escape.

But with nothing but miles of empty farmlands, where would I go?

Stealing a car would be my best option, but that would require me to find a key.

I only recognized Conall’s car, a fancy Bentley completely out of place in the rolling hills of the Belfast countryside.

That would mean having to get close enough to him to get my hand into his pants’ pocket where he always kept it.

And that certainly wasn’t happening.

Not to mention Blaine.

If I ran, Conall would kill him. Bran and Da too.

After all the shite they put me through, I shouldn’t care as much as I do about either of them, but here we are.

Slumping into the antique chair, I pick at the potato bread that came with my full Irish breakfast complete with a fried egg, baked beans, a grilled tomato and bangers. My stomach recoils at the sight of the greasy food.

God, what I wouldn’t give for one of Mrs. Jenkins’ protein fruit smoothies.

My throat closes as memories of my time at the penthouse flood my mind. I’ve tried so hard to keep them at bay, to not think of him . Because if I do… I just might jump out that window. Still, the memories come, unable to keep them from surging to the surface.

It was the first time I made Alessandro eat avocado toast.

We were barely speaking in full sentences back then. We were still circling each other like wary animals, but he’d wandered into the kitchen shirtless, all grumpy and disheveled, rubbing a hand over that scruffy jaw like the world had personally offended him.

I perch on a stool with my smoothie bowl and homemade avocado toast, feeling very smug about finally locating something green in the penthouse fridge.

He stares at my plate like I’ve just set down a pile of dog shite. Then he glares at the one I left for him across the island.

“You trying to poison me, Red?” he asks, one brow arched.

I shove a bite in my mouth and shrug. “It’s called fiber, Alessandro. Look into it.”

He grumbles something in Italian under his breath, but five minutes later, he’s sitting across from me staring down at his own plate. After pouring about half the saltshaker over the top.

“This tastes like sadness,” he declares after his first bite.

“And yet you’re still eating it,” I reply with a smirk.

“I’m only eating it so you don’t start crying about my cholesterol levels again.”

I stick my tongue out at him, and he responds by stealing the rest of my toast.

It was the first time we laughed together. Really laughed. No walls. No threats. Just two people sitting in a sunlit kitchen pretending we weren’t from two different, dangerous worlds.

And for that moment, we weren’t.

I squeeze my eyes closed, and the vivid images fade leaving only the artery-clogging breakfast in front of me and a huge gaping hole where my heart used to be.

Alessandro . The lump in my throat grows bigger until I can barely swallow around it. Hot tears burn my eyes, and for once, I let them fall. For just a minute, I can be weak, I can cry over the man I love most in this world. The one I’m forced to give up for a family who never cared enough.

The tears continue to fall, streaking down my cheeks, my shoulders trembling from the force of the endless sobbing. Why did I ever leave him? I should have let the O’Shea’s all rot in hell.

But I couldn’t… because I wasn’t Brigid O’Shea anymore. I’m Rory Delaney, and she would never let her family die for her if she could help it.

The click of the bolt across the door sliding free sends my head whirling over my shoulder. The heavy door creaks open, and I scramble to wipe the tears from my cheeks before turning around.

My father steps inside like he owns the place, like he didn’t sell his daughter to the devil a year ago.

He’s wearing his usual wool coat and flat cap, his silver beard trimmed, and the smell of pipe smoke clinging to him.

His limp is worse now, probably from too many brawls and too much whiskey over the past year.

His mossy green eyes are as sharp and cold as ever though.

“Didn’t expect you to be up already,” he mutters, glancing at the untouched breakfast.

Not a hello. Not a how have you been in the past year… Nothing.

“I’ve been up all night,” I say flatly, not bothering to mask the venom in my voice. “Hard to sleep when you’re about to be walked down the aisle to a feckin’ murderer.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he walks farther into the room and nods toward the tray. “You should eat. You’ll need your strength. The wedding’s this evening.”

The words slice through me like a blade. Shite. Tonight, already?

Not days. Not even hours to plan.

My breath stutters, chest tightening until it feels like my ribs are caving in. Bile burns up the back of my throat. The room spins slightly, tilting sideways like the world’s just decided to tilt off its axis.

I grip the edge of the table to keep from collapsing.

“No,” I breathe, too low for him to hear. “No, no, no…”

It’s too soon. I’m not ready. I’ll never be ready.

In a few hours, I’ll be his. His bride. His prisoner. Forever.

I suck in a deep breath, steadying myself. Then that fear morphs into something darker. Anger. Fury. It’s all so feckin’ unfair.

“So that’s it? No apology? No explanation? Just dress up and get shackled to the Butcher of Belfast like a good little daughter?”

His mouth flattens. “You’re doing the right thing, Brigid. For your family.”

A bitter laugh erupts from my throat. “Don’t call me that. You lost the right the day you traded me like cattle. My name is Rory now. I will never be Brigid again. And you were never a father, you were only a coward. A coward who let Mam die. Who let Conall destroy me.”

Da stiffens. “You think I wanted this for you? You think I had a bloody choice? Conall’s been after you since the moment you ran away. You embarrassed him. Made him look weak. I’ve been doing everything I can to keep the rest of the family breathing.”

My voice is ice. “So why did he come for me now?” Now that I was finally happy with Alessandro. “Why not a year ago?”

He shifts his weight, eyes darting toward the curtained window. “He found out you were in Manhattan. One of Mullen’s boys saw you at Flanagan’s. Word got back to Conall, and he reached out.”

“Bullshit.” I narrow my eyes. “He’s been searching for me since I disappeared. I know about the bounty. So why didn’t he act before?”

He hesitates. And that’s when I know.

“You’re not telling me everything,” I whisper.

“I am.”

“No, you’re lying.” My hands curl into fists. The bounty… “Who gave me up?”

His silence is the answer.

I take a step forward, heart pounding. “Who?”

He sighs, dragging a hand through his greying hair. “Conall offered that reward and... He said there’d be a hefty sum for whoever could bring you back in.”

A beat. Then another.

God, no. All the air siphons from my chest. “It was Blaine, wasn’t it?”

His eyes snap to mine, too slow to deny it.

The floor drops out beneath me.

For a second, I can’t breathe. It’s like someone’s punched a hole straight through my chest, carved out my lungs and left me hollow. My knees buckle, and I stagger back until my spine hits the edge of the bed.

“No,” I whisper, but it comes out cracked and useless.

A flash of Blaine’s crooked smile, the freckles on his nose, the way he used to fall asleep beside me during thunderstorms. It all hits like shrapnel.

My baby brother.

The one I was about to sacrifice everything for.

And he sold me.

“He didn’t mean any harm?—”

“No harm?” I choke out, voice raw. “He sold me. His own sister. For what? A fucking pile of cash?”

“He thought he was saving himself. Saving us all. You’ve no idea how desperate things got after you left. Conall took everything. Our money, our men. Blaine made a deal to bring you home and Bran helped. No one knew how far Conall would go.”

“I did,” I hiss. “That’s the difference. I knew exactly what kind of monster you were handing me over to. That’s why I ran across the damned ocean to get away from him.”

Da’s face is tight, lined with guilt that’s far too late.

I sink onto the edge of the bed, the weight of betrayal crushing me from all sides. From Blaine. From Da. From every man who’s ever said they loved me and still let me burn.

“I’m marrying a monster today,” I whisper, eyes glassy. “And the people I did it for are the same ones who threw me into the feckin’ fire.”

Da doesn’t say anything. Just stands there with the ghost of shame on his face. But I don’t want his shame. I want my life back.

I want Alessandro.

But tonight, I’ll be Conall’s bride. Unless I find a way to stop it.

And I will. If it’s the last thing I do.