Page 32 of Malicious Marriage (Mafia Lords of Sin #9)

CLOVER

“ Y ou found anything?”

Bobby’s head snaps up from the desk with a paper Post-It attached to his cheek. Laughing, I walk over and gently retract it then look down at his work.

“Sorry, I was just?—”

“Don’t worry. We’ve had a couple of late nights this week. You’re tired. You should head home.”

“Really?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I don’t want to leave you by yourself.” Bobby swivels to face me and takes my hand just as I’m about to move away. “What if Malcom visits?”

I glance at the clock hanging over the mantlepiece. “At eleven at night?”

“When has he ever cared about the time?”

“You’re not wrong.” The past month since the wedding has been a whirlwind. Dean’s been so busy dealing with the fallout of his business with the Russians that I’ve been free to pursue everything and anything to do with Hailey.

For the first time in five years, I’ve been able to make a real effort to track her down.

Unfortunately, everything I've tried so far has been a dead end. Bobby and I spent an entire week looking into her teacher for some sort of connection. I even persuaded myself that they’d been having some sordid affair since high school and he’d done something to her.

Unfortunately, that was a dead end. Her college friends had no new info, and no amount of money in the world can get me answers out of people who don’t have them.

And to top it off, Uncle Malcom’s been hanging around like a bad smell.

He tried to insist that I stay at the Byrne manor so Dean would have an excuse to visit, but I spun a white lie that part of my wedding agreement was to spend time at the Savoy place instead.

Malcom bought it, along with assuming that it was an invitation to visit any time he wanted.

The more he did, the more I grew wary over why he was so interested in Dean.

The urge to keep them separate has grown day by day.

“I’m not alone,” I remind Bobby, rubbing his shoulder. “Dean came home maybe forty minutes ago. I saw Jack in the foyer when I went to the bathroom, so I’ll be fine. In fact, I’m going to get Jack to drive you home.”

“That’s not necessary.” Bobby smiles. “I’m not too tired to drive.”

“I insist. Plus, Dean’s security team is keeping you safe, too, and I’d prefer knowing you’re fully protected when heading back to Frankie. I don’t need anything else happening to you, understand?”

Bobby affectionately rolls his eyes. “You know my job title of bodyguard comes with the understanding that stuff will happen to me, right?”

“True, but now that I’ve back paid all your wages and you truly, one hundred percent work for me again, I have to protect my investment.”

Bobby snorts softly in amusement. “Man, you get a little money and your ego inflates like crazy.”

“Fuck you!”

“Sorry, you’re not my type.”

We dissolve into soft laughter and set about cleaning up all the files of dead ends, ancient messages, and vague possible-but-not-really sightings of Hailey and toss them all into a folder, then I walk Bobby down to the foyer.

“I know this month has been hard,” Bobby says seriously. “We had this dream that when we got what we wanted, somehow, finding Hailey would be magically instantaneous.”

“Yeah.”

“And instead it feels like we haven’t moved. But I promise we’re close. There aren’t many rocks left uncovered.”

“Do you really believe that?” I ask as we reach the door. “Do you really think we’ll find her?” I’m not sure if I want Bobby to lie to me or not, but his comforting smile brings me warmth.

“I think we have the best chance we’ve ever had to find her,” he says, taking my hand in his. “And I think she would be proud of you for everything you’ve done to find her.”

“I hope so.” Tears linked to the old pain of loss briefly threaten behind my eyes, but I swallow them down and open the door. Jack stands a few feet away by his car, his attention buried in his phone, but his head snaps up when he hears us.

“Secrets don’t stay secret forever,” Bobby says and he lightly kisses my cheek. “Goodnight.”

“Text me when you’re home safe,” I call, watching him head toward Jack who greets him with a warm smile. I wait until they’re both in the car and pulling out of the driveway, flanked by several more security guards, before I close the door.

Secrets. I know Bobby was insinuating that he thinks we’re in a position where telling Dean the truth would be beneficial, but all I can think about is the baby growing inside me.

Dean’s baby. That secret feels so heavy, and I have no idea what to do about it.

Telling Dean feels like unfair competition when he has Trisha’s baby to worry about, and how will it look if I reveal I’m pregnant right after I tell him I lied to him and manipulated our first meeting to trick him into working with me?

He’d look at me with the same look he gets in his eye when he talks about Trisha.

Hateful pain.

Then again… maybe it will show my truth. That I really, truly, deeply care for him and that I’m embracing the idea of a real family together. Sure, it wasn’t part of our deal, but no matter how we try, we can’t keep our hands off one another. That has to be a sign.

Should I tell him? Will it make everything else I’ve lied about forgivable?

Shaking my head, I try to clear my thoughts.

Hailey first. Dean and the baby later. That’s my plan.

I just have to find one thing, one tiny detail or lead about Hailey, and everything else will fall into place.

I run through every tidbit of dead info we’ve collected over the past month, in case I’ve missed anything, while wandering slowly through the manor.

Which immediately derails into silence when I walk into the kitchen.

Dean sits next to the island counter shrouded in darkness, illuminated by the light from the glass-fronted fridge. His head is low, his shoulders bunched in a tight arc, and he clasps a glass half-filled with amber liquid.

Something is wrong.

“Dean?”

He doesn’t react to my voice. His head remains down and his arm moves rigidly as he slowly takes a drink and drains the glass.

The last time we spoke was yesterday when Trisha went into labor, but I heard nothing since.

Not that I expected to. I can’t imagine how scary labor is, never mind worrying about that on top of all the things with the Russians.

I think back to Jack, trying to decide if how he was acting was a clue to what happened, but Jack seemed normal.

Or he was hiding it.

I slowly step into the kitchen and approach, despite my instinct telling me to leave him alone. He’s a quiet man who seems to process things himself, but it just doesn’t feel right to leave without showing him I’m here to listen.

“Dean?” I say again, stopping next to the stool beside Dean. “Is everything alright?”

He lifts his glass to drink but it’s empty, so all he does is grunt. As his arm moves, I spot the nearly empty bottle of scotch next to him.

Shit.

“Did something happen to the baby?” My mind immediately runs away with itself, concocting all sorts of horror scenarios about what could have gone wrong with the birth. I’m about to lose myself in a spiral of what - ifs when Dean finally speaks.

“The baby…”

“Yeah… Trisha’s baby. Is everything… okay?”

“Sure,” he mutters. “Sure. Mom and baby are fine.”

I sense a but coming. “But?”

“It was a little girl,” he continues, and his voice breaks faintly. “An adorable little girl, actually. All wide blue eyes and a mop of dark hair. Nurse told me babies born with hair often lose it not long after, but it was nice to see.”

I’ve never known Dean to dance around a topic, but there’s something he can’t say and I have a growing realization of what it might be.

“The—” He chokes briefly and clears his throat with a cough. “The baby isn’t mine.”

Shit .

“Are you sure?” Feels like a dumb thing to say, but knowing what Trisha has pulled in the past, I need to make sure this isn’t a trick.

He nods. “She might have fucking dodged all my demands for a paternity test when she was still pregnant, claiming she didn’t want to harm the baby and shit. But as soon as she was born, it was easy, and I know how to expedite these things. I paid for my own fucking bad news.”

I expect him to be angry, but Dean sounds painfully deflated. Despite all the pain and cruelty Trisha put him through, he was genuine about his care for that child. A child that isn’t even his. My lips part to speak, but Dean carries on.

“She knew from the beginning. You know, she told me she fell pregnant with me after we were out drinking and celebrating. I didn’t remember drinking much but I got so drunk I blacked out.

Turns out she put something in my drink so she could claim we slept together because she knew I would never touch her again. ”

“Oh, my God…”

“But she always knew the baby belonged to Conor. Apparently, he has a thing for crazy chicks and didn’t mind that she threatened to skin him alive if he looked at another woman.

He dug it, actually. Until she fell pregnant and she remembered what her father would do if he found out she’d had a baby with a bodyguard .

His precious heir who is his key to strengthening the family, knocked up by a nobody.

” Dean scoffs dryly. “So I was the fucking fool she roped in instead. An easy target, given our history and how desperate every wretched fucker is for a piece of the Savoy estate.”

My heart breaks for him. There’s not an ounce of anger in his words, just painful defeat and sad understanding that the past nine months with Trisha were nothing but a game for her to save face.

Holy shit.

How the hell can I tell him about our baby? Never mind telling him the truth about Hailey, about my uncle, and even how our meeting wasn’t accidental without looking as bad as her? If not worse since Dean went to such lengths to persuade me to say yes.

It won’t matter that I did it all to save my family. All he’ll see is another person manipulating him to use the Savoy name for their own selfish games, and he’d be right.

It doesn’t matter that I’ve fallen for him. In the wake of Trisha’s cruelty, there’s no way he’d believe me.

“Dean,” I say softly, reaching for his hand. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Y’know, part of me had this little inkling of hope that motherhood would change her.

That having a baby and holding that life in her arms would unlock some sort of compassion in her and raising a child together wouldn’t be the absolute terror I feared.

But she had nothing in her eyes while telling me the truth.

Not a single fucking thing. I think she only told me because of the painkillers they gave her. ”

When he shakes his head, I step right up to his stool and slide my arms around his shoulders, unable to hold back my comfort any longer. Dean immediately sags into my hold until I’m cradling his head against my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I say as tears warm my eyes. I’m apologizing for me. For being another person destined to betray his trust and hurt him.

“I would have been a good dad,” Dean says hoarsely. “I would have been so good.”

“I know. I know.”

“I’m sick of it.” Warmth builds against my chest as he talks against me.

“I’m sick of the lies. Of the deception.

I’m sick of putting my trust in the wrong people.

Sick of it.” With most of the scotch bottle warming his veins, his hold around my waist is tighter than normal, but with every ounce of strength he uses to seek comfort against me, my guilt grows.

Will finding Hailey really be worth betraying this beautiful man? Will having her by my side really make up for the pain I’m sure to see in Dean’s eyes when he learns he was once again used?

Those thoughts bring tears to my eyes as much as I try to blink them away. Dean’s arms around my waist tighten a fraction, then he lifts his head and looks up at me.

He’s such a handsome man. Even in the low light, the happy wrinkles around his eyes remain prominent and the silver in his beard appears to glow as he lightly rolls his jaw and presses his lips together.

“Thank you,” he says softly. “For being here.”

“Of course,” I say just as softly.

“It wasn’t part of our agreement. All of this. Me, drunk in the kitchen like a wet blanket.”

“Don’t do that,” I scold immediately, cupping his cheek with one hand. “Don’t diminish your feelings into a joke. You’re hurting. You’ve been lied to and manipulated and tricked. You’re allowed to feel and cope exactly how you need to. Please, don’t put yourself down.”

“How did I end up with someone so perfect?”

He’s breaking my heart. “I’m not perfect.”

“You are. You came to me at a time of need without knowing just how much I needed someone. You treated me so kindly, like I was a real person, and you gave up a part of yourself to help me. Never have I known anyone so kind.”

Stop. He needs to stop before his sweetness causes me to spill every secret I’m burying inside me.

“You helped me too,” I remind him gently. “It was a mutual deal, remember?”

“I remember.” His eyes close. “I still picture you in that black dress. You looked…” He trails off and his head tilts slightly, then he opens his eyes and locks gazes with me.

Heat pulses through my chest, but just as the surging urge to blurt out my truth rises, Dean also rises. In half a second, he’s standing over me with both hands cupping my face, and then his mouth gently crashes into mine.

Should I give in? Is now really the time to sink into physical intimacy when we’re both clearly so sad?

Yes. Yes it is.