Page 17

Chapter ten

You’ve Been Keeping Secrets

Kira

I sat in silence, staring at my husband, like he was a new man—a very, very different man.

This was not in the reports. How could it be, if Yuliya herself did not know until now?

I busied myself, putting food in front of Cillian as servants walked in and out, clearing plates, refilling glasses, putting out next courses at a hectic pace.

“I first laid eyes on Yuliya over twenty years ago.” Eoghan still had his hand on the back of Cillian’s chair, his gaze landing somewhere on the intricate cream pattern of the tablecloth.

“My father’s men took her out of a van and imprisoned her at one of the New York City ports.

As I understood it, she was kidnapped on the way home from school in a roadside attack, but I wasn’t there.

” Eoghan looked at her for confirmation. “All truthful so far?”

Eoghan had not been a part of the kidnapping. I noted that with some relief.

Yuliya nodded, “My driver was killed, and I was taken. Yes.”

How was she so unaffected by this? I could not talk about Giorgio Morelli without falling apart. I could barely make the words come out, but she was openly discussing her traumatic past as if it were a fondly remembered field trip.

She was a woman made of steel, and I admired the hell out of her.

“I saw this little thing, in pink, holding a stuffed unicorn,” Eoghan said with a shrug, laughing a little at the memory. “Something about her reminded me of another girl whom I thought of as a sister.”

Pieces were coming into place, and I asked, “You mean, Sinead?”

“Exactly, sweet Muse,” he said, taking his arm past the backrest of Cillian’s highchair to tug a curl behind my ear. “They’re close to the same age, and always covered in pink with blonde hair in ribbons. It was tough not to notice the similarities. I think she even had the same unicorn–”

“It was a Llamacorn,” Jericho said, curtly, his fist in front of his mouth as he let out a cough, as if his words irritated his throat.

Eoghan lifted his head, surprised. “A what?”

“A Llamacorn,” Jericho said with a long sigh, as if Eoghan was an idiot for not understanding. “It’s a Llama with a horn. Not a unicorn. It’s not a magical horse. It’s…” he sighed, agitated with himself now. “It doesn’t matter. Continue.”

With a wave of his hand, he commanded Eoghan to keep talking.

Eoghan looked at Jericho as if he’d lost his marbles, but ultimately continued his story.

“At night, I put the cameras on a loop so I could see her and make sure she was alright.”

His voice trailed off as if he would leave it at that, but Yuliya leaned forward, a small smirk on her thin lips.

“The whole truth, Irish.” Her voice was low, drawling, lazy, and more than a little amused. “You’re skipping details and selling yourself short.”

Eoghan looked at her, his face crestfallen, as if the very last thing he ever wanted to do was relay this story.

“I tended her wounds, put vitamins in her water, and gave her something to eat that she wouldn’t puke up at the next day’s torture.

” He dropped his head. He took his hand off the back of Cillian’s chair, his eyes landing on me again, but then looking away quickly.

“What my father, and his men—” He sighed, quietly, before he amended, “What our men did to you was unconscionable. I did nothing to stop it. I felt like I couldn’t do anything to stop it.

But I was probably wrong on that account. For that, I am truly sorry.”

“Blah, blah, blah.” Yuliya waved her hand in a circular motion, telling him to go on. “I do not need your apologies, dear first-cousin-once-removed-in-law. I simply want people to know. If you feel you owe me, then tell them what happened, and all will be square between us.”

Again, so fucking casual. I had harbored hate in my heart for Giorgio Morelli, while she seemed to feel nothing at all.

“They beat her, mostly.” Eoghan’s Adam’s Apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. He looked nervous. “Grown men taking their fists to a wee child.” He shook his head. “They waterboarded her, too.”

Jericho sucked in an angry breath through his clenched teeth, his nose twitching like a wolf about to snarl.

Eoghan looked at Yuliya and gave a half-hearted smile. “She pretended to be unconscious, and when the man torturing her was pissing himself, thinking he’d killed her, she waited until he got close, and slammed her forehead into his face. She broke his nose.”

Yuliya lifted her chin and wore a proud smile.

“I admired the hell out of that.” Eoghan smiled back, but then frowned again as he continued, “If I remember right, he broke her arm, and considered breaking a leg as well.”

Eoghan’s voice was barely a whisper, as if he were the one who had been put through pain.

“You probably don’t remember, but I asked how to get word to your father about your whereabouts. How to get a message to him.”

“I remember,” she said, with a nod. “I told you he would not care if I died.”

Again, another nonchalant shrug. How was she so fucking cool?

“I was speaking the truth,” she said, not at all bothered about her father’s lack of affection.

“Believe it or not, I know a little something about having a father like that,” Eoghan said, his eyes growing distant. “It made me more determined to have you live.”

I reached over and put my hand on his, our son oblivious to his parents connected behind him continued to line blueberries on his plate

Eoghan clung on to my hand like he was hanging on for dear life. I held on just as tight, just so he knew that I was here with him.

“I couldn’t get you out. Not without getting caught, and we’d both be shot dead.” Eoghan leaned back, probably trying to emulate the same nonchalance as Yuliya. “You told me to contact Jericho. I couldn’t deliver the message myself, of course, as we were sworn enemies. He’d shoot me on sight.”

“I still would,” Jericho confirmed.

Like he was embarrassed, Eoghan began to fidget with a loose piece of string on the tablecloth. “Another little girl had to do the work of a grown man.”

I squeezed his hand between us.

“She got the message to you.” Eoghan lifted his eyes to stare at Jericho Vasiliev. “And you found her in time.”

It was the most anti-climactic way to end a story. When no one reacted immediately, Eoghan added a dismissive, “And that was that.”

Eoghan leaned forward, grabbed his untouched wine glass in front of him and downed it, upending the stem as he tossed his head back.

“Now we’re all one big happy family.” He put the wine glass down, breathing heavily through his nose.

I stared at Eoghan’s face, his left cheek, and the way he kept his eyes on nothing. It was as if he was living the memories again, and I didn’t know how to help him. I had no clue what to do.

“I wish you had told me,” I said quietly.

I did not think that I could love him more. I did not think that I, and Paradigm, could have read him so wrong.

Was his late-night counsel the same type of secret? Was he going out at night, and saving kittens and nuns?

“He didn’t tell me either,” Dairo said to me. Then he looked at Eoghan, “I had no idea, cousin.”

I suppose that if Dairo didn’t know, then I shouldn’t feel bad. I never suspected that he could be a hero in Yuliya’s story.

“Though, I suppose, I shouldn’t be surprised either.” Dairo gave Eoghan a small smile of approval and nod, which must have spoken volumes.

Eoghan scratched at his clean-shaven cheek, awkwardly shrugging, as if he were withering under everyone’s attention.

“I told no one but Shiny,” Eoghan said curtly. “I wouldn't have told Shiny if I hadn’t needed her help. If my father found out, he would have slit my throat and branded me a traitor. Same for Shiny. The fewer people that knew, the better and safer for everyone.”

Then, he smiled. It was sinister and cruel. The kind of smile a person had when they were so fucking sick of the fucked-up world that they started their villain era.

“The things I was accused of doing to Yuliya Vasilieva—” He lightly gestured towards the woman, but it didn’t seem like he was really talking about her either.

Like he was referring to a fictional version of her.

“Have come in handy over the years,” he said, as if it was almost a point of pride.

“Wagging tongues said I was so heartless, I could beat a child, and string her up myself.”

He let out a sad laugh.

“And there was power in that, for me, as well.” He shook his head. “Mercy has no place in our world. You all know that as well as I.”

I knew, as he did, that his father would have called his kindness to Yuliya a weakness.

Worse yet, I think Eoghan, in a small way, believed it as well.

That what he did would brand him a traitor and a coward.

It would make him soft, unfit to rule in his father’s place. Mercy has no place in the underworld.

I pressed my fingers between his, linking our hands together. I was gratified when he curled his fingers around mine as well, smashing our palms together.

“As you see, isoveli, ” Yuliya said, with a small chuckle. “It seems I owe Eoghan Green my life.”

She tipped her wine glass up in a mock toast.

Jericho moaned, his lip curling in scorn.

He got up and went to a wet bar at the side of the room. He opened a drawer and pulled out a large bottle of Finlandia vodka, then pulled out several shot glasses. He placed them at the center of the table, and in one tilt, filled them all.

“ We owe him, don’t you think, Jericho?” Yuliya said again, louder this time, so as not to be ignored.

“I’m thinking!” Jericho barked at his sister, clearly not wanting any of her shit right now.

He grumbled something about fucking Irish, and god damn Green shit before he put the cap back on the vodka and placed it on the table.

No one spoke. No one breathed, except for the messy children who were the real comic relief in this whole situation, oblivious and indifferent to the tense adults around them.