Page 137 of Brutal Heir

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 ofhim. 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?