Page 14 of Savage Promises (Quinlan Empire #2)

Shane

T he house my da built in Astoria is a monument to tradition and our power in Astoria. I take note of its stone walls weathered by half a century of harsh northeast winters. It’s remained defiant against time.

Growing up here, the place felt more like a social club for mobsters than a family home. Even as a young lad, I watched in awe as my da conducted business in the house with shady people who crossed that threshold to show fealty to the second most powerful man in Astoria after Fergus O’Rourke.

I stand in the formal living room, staring out of the floor-to-ceiling window waiting for Neve. I was promised she’d show up for this dinner to prove she was taking our engagement seriously.

I exhale in frustration, but excitement hums through me when I see Lennox’s Benz pull up instead. My da expanded the original driveway into a courtyard to accommodate cars for seven adults.

Lennox sheepishly rings the front bell and is led into the foyer by the full-time house manager we hired for Ma since she lives here alone.

“A Miss Donnelly,” Caroline announces her like this is Buckingham Palace.

Lennox’s presence hits me harder than it should. She looks out of place in the grand foyer, her confidence only dimmed slightly by the sheer magnitude of the house. But she carries herself with that same steady determination I expect from her.

Her perfume knocks me sideways and her rich caramel eyes with verdant flecks, an eye color I’d never seen before her, scan everything with quiet assessment .

“Lennox,” I say, emerging from the shadows. The way her name tastes on my tongue tonight feels dangerous. Dangerously good. Dangerously right. Dangerously mine. “Not who I expected.”

But I have to be honest with myself. She’s exactly who I want.

Neve has brushed off every attempt I made to connect with her. To get to know her. To involve her in the planning of her own damn wedding. Poor Lennox stands there as the envoy, carrying Neve’s excuses like some reluctant messenger.

But I can’t harp on my irritation. Not when Lennox being here is the result.

She crosses her arms, defiant but not defensive. “Neve had to cancel at the last minute. Her coach called her in for a mandatory practice. Give her a few more months.”

“Impossible. We’re getting married in just over two.” I brush my fingers along the lapel of the sports jacket I wore for the occasion.

“About that,” Lennox says, clearing her throat.

I hold up my hand. “I’m not accepting any delays. Especially not from you.” Next, I’m invading her space, circling her like a drill sergeant. “Neve has a voice, does she not? If she wants a delay, have her ask your father for one.”

Lennox goes white as a sheet.

“What’s the matter?” I ask, reaching for her.

“My father is consumed with worry about Garrett,” she whispers and looks up at me through her dark lashes. “I worry he’ll hurt Neve.”

“Hurt her how?” I ask but then cover my mouth. “Has your father ever...laid a hand on you, Lennox?”

Her eyes slip closed. “None of your business.”

“Wrong. If my future wife will be in the presence of a man who would strike his daughter, I need to make arrangements for her safety. And send Connor to let your father know—”

“He never hit Neve. Just...me,” she blurts, a deep blush coloring her cheeks.

“Why?” I go rigid. “When?”

She hesitates, her lower lip trembling. “The night of my birthday.”

The room tilts, narrowing down to the way Lennox’s fingers dig into the fabric of her dress like she’s trying to hold herself together.

“Your eighteenth birthday,” I clarify, my voice like gravel. “The night you were with me ? What happened?”

Lennox shakes her head violently. “Forget it, Shane. It doesn’t—”

“Tell me.” My biting voice cuts through the space between us.

Lennox swallows hard, her breathing shallow and uneven. “When I got home, I smelled like your cologne. I should have taken a shower. I didn’t. I went to bed thinking of that kiss and fell asleep. When I woke up, my father’s hands were around my throat and...”

Everything inside me snaps.

My rage is instant, molten, an inferno ready to blow. My fingers twitch with the need to break something and I might put my fist through a wall. I want to strangle the man who raised a hand to Lennox. All because she had been with me .

I move before I can think, gripping Lennox’s chin gently but firmly, forcing her to look at me. Her pupils blow wide, her lips parting in carnal invitation. She’s bracing for my reaction, waiting for me to explode.

But I won’t.

I can’t.

Not at her. Never at her.

“Lennox.” Her name is raw on my tongue. “Tell me exactly what he did.”

She closes her eyes. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“The hell it doesn’t.” My chest heaves, rage pushing against my ribs. “You think I’d hear that and do nothing?”

A tear skates down her cheek and something inside me fractures. I realize I’m furious because she’s the woman I care about. Going after Richard Donnelly for something he did six years ago to a woman who I’m not marrying will make me look out of control.

Control is my suit of armor.

I drag her gaze back to mine. My voice drops, low and lethal. “If anyone ever lays a hand on you again, they won’t have that hand anymore.”

I hug her because I want to fix how broken she looks. She sinks into my embrace, and the way she feels in my arms, her body molded to me, I’m a goner.

A throat clearing behind me pops open my eyes. I gently release Lennox and turn around. My mother’s imposing but flawless presence in the foyer makes even Lennox stiffen.

She collects herself. “Mrs. Quinlan. Hello. I’m just here to help with the plans.”

“ The bride should be part of these plans.” Ma’s stern voice surprises me.

“Ma!” I snap and step in front of Lennox. “I accept Lennox is here instead of her sister.”

Ma clears her throat again. “I meant no offense, dear.”

“None taken.” Lennox blinks up at Ma. “But Neve made commitments to her volleyball team before this arrangement. We want to reward her honor to the team. In fact, we were talking about postponing to give her—”

“We’re not postponing,” I blurt, squeezing Lennox’s hand. “How about dinner, Ma?”

“Aye. Are you hungry, dear?” Ma falls into her role of nurturer .

“I am.” Lennox draws a breath. “Thank you, Mrs. Quinlan.”

“Call me Norah, please,” my mother corrects with a smile.

I see the flicker of surprise in Lennox’s eyes at the invitation to call Ma by her first name.

“I made stew,” Ma says, heading into the dining room. “This way.”

I lay my hand lightly on Lennox’s waist, guiding her through the grand hall. Her body tenses under my touch, but she doesn’t pull away or walk too far ahead. When we reach the dining room, Lennox hesitates, staring agog at its formal grandeur.

I see the awe in her expression as she takes in the ornate settings.

Fine china sits handsomely in Ma’s daunting mahogany breakfront with crystal stemware that sparkles behind the glass doors.

The dining room hasn’t been used for a formal meal in a very long time.

We usually eat at the island in the kitchen.

Sure enough, Ma made up three elegant place settings. Her at the head of the table, me opposite her, and Neve, now Lennox’s place, on the side across from the breakfront.

With Ma seated, Caroline carries in the tureen and the aroma of Ma’s stew fills the room. I stand to help her make up the dishes. Handing one to Lennox, I see a pink tongue sweep across her lush lips.

“It’s been forever since I had homecooked stew,” she confesses and picks up her spoon. “I’d love to learn how to make this.”

“Little Norah...” Ma begins with the sign of the cross over her heart. “Was my kitchen helper, learned all my recipes. Siobhan wanted to play detective with her brothers.”

I wince at Ma bringing up my deceased sister in front of Lennox.

“Ewan learned to cook, though.” My oldest brother kept us all from starving when my sister got sick and Ma was back and forth to the doctors with her.

“Aye. And now he cooks for his lovely wife and three daughters.” Ma smiles, reminding me that after Norah, Ewan is her favorite.

He’s also the reason she won’t let Griffin buy an apartment for her in Manhattan. She minds the girls for Ewan and Darcy who live a few blocks away.

“I don’t suppose your sister Neve, being so young and busy with her games, would want to learn to cook an old-fashioned Irish lamb stew,” my mother says, her tone sharp with concern.

“I guess.” Lennox stares at her bowl, looking like she regrets filling in for Neve and wishes she were anywhere else.

God, I hate this. Hate the way this arrangement has forced Lennox into defending Neve’s choices while bearing the brunt of everyone’s frustration.

“I’ll teach you , dear.” Ma is a mother first, sensing Lennox’s unease. “Someone will need to make sure my son is fed and cared for properly.”

My staring at Lennox melts into a horrifying awareness of just how much I want her to take care of all my needs.

“But tonight. I take care of you,” Ma adds, breaking a piece of bread and handing it to Lennox. “You look thin, lass. Don’t you feed yourself properly?”

Lennox flushes, clearly uncomfortable. “I do have to skip dinner here and there. I’m fine, really.”

“You’re not fine if you’re skipping meals,” I interject before I can stop myself. “You’ve always been...” I pause, searching for the right word. Beautiful? Vibrant? None of those feel appropriate, not with my mother sitting across from me, watching me like I’ve lost my mind.

I might not care if I’m letting it slip to Lennox how more and more I wish I was marrying her. But I don’t dare give any hint to my mother about it.

“Perfect,” I finish, loving her curves. “You just need to take care of yourself.”

Lennox glances at me, her expression unreadable. But the tension is a slow-moving fire between us.