Page 32

32

Thea

“ N o!” Denial was way more than a river in Egypt. “Of course not.” Using what remained of my strength, I shoved the Russian away and folded my arms. “Get the fuck out of my bathroom. All of you.”

They exchanged glances with each other and then backed out. Once the door had clicked shut, I slumped down on the floor and closed my eyes.

Yesterday was lovely. Amazing. How had it all gone to shit?

Fucking men. I should have known they’d screw up my life in all ways. Sleeping with a growly possessive Russian was always a bad idea. And knowing he had a breeding kink made my poor decision ten times worse.

If he thought I was carrying his baby, he’d never let me go, which would make tracking down my father a lot more difficult. Sure, he’d made some vague promise about ‘taking care’ of my problem. Like murdering my father and Torrance was as easy as ordering a hitman on Amazon. Pay an extra $100 for the expedited service. No mess.

If only .

My dad was no fool. He’d successfully dodged assassination attempts for years. I was the only person who could get close enough to him to get the job done. While he had Verity under his control, taking him out was never a possibility. But she was safe now.

Being knocked up made things more difficult, but I had two or three months before my pregnancy became noticeable. That was more than enough time to run back to Daddy and wait for an opportune moment to kill the bastard.

But first, I needed to talk to Eden. Sticking my head in the sand was doing me no favors. I needed to know whether the fates had conspired to fuck up my life even more. If, as I suspected, I was pregnant, then the sooner I put a plan in place to ditch the guys and find my father, the better.

Eden could take care of Verity for me. While I knew the guys would never hurt my sister, they might chase after me. And if that happened, I needed to know someone was taking care of Verity.

It was time to call my best (and only) friend.

The bedroom was thankfully empty when I left the bathroom, rumpled sheets and discarded condoms the only sign of my former bed partners.

Now that I’d successfully purged my stomach, I felt marginally better. Still mostly crappy, but no longer on the verge of hurling. I’d take that as a win.

I picked up my burner phone and hit ‘call’ on Eden’s number. She should be up by now, and if she wasn’t, tough fucking shit.

“ Go dtachtfadh an diabhal thú ! What the fuck time of day is this?”

“I need your help.” Eden groaned, cursed some more, and then cleared her throat.

“Oh my god, have you broken them already?”

“Broken who?” She talked in riddles half the time, and I felt like I needed Google Translate whenever we had a conversation.

“The guys. Your harem. Please tell me Landon has finally met his match.”

“Eden, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but no, they’re all in one piece.”

“OK, so if you didn’t fuck them to death or murder them in another creative way, which, by the way, would be completely fine. I mean, they all deserve some creative murdering. Especially Landon. That boy may be pretty, but he’s still an asshole. So, what’s the problem?”

I closed my eyes for a moment and thought about calming things. The sound of the ocean. The feel of sand between my toes. The scent of salt on the breeze.

“Um, the problem is…” Fuck, why was it so hard to say the words? “The problem is…I think I might be…”

“Knocked up?”

“What? How did you know?”

She huffed in a way that spoke of extreme exasperation at my lack of functioning brain cells.

“Isn’t it fucking obvious?”

“Not to me, no.”

“Ugh. Think about it. Four hot, virile guys - note I’m not including Milo in this, as I assume you’re not fucking him, but feel free to give me the deets if you are - it stands to reason they knocked you up.”

Once again, she’d left me scratching my head. “So because I’ve had sex a few times with more than one guy, you assume I’m pregnant?”

“Of course. Even my ovaries sing like sirens when they’re all in the same room, and I’m not sexually in thrall to them. I mean, not gonna lie, they are each pretty, but frankly, there are way too many red flags for my liking. Also, Declan would fit me with a chastity belt if I so much as hinted I fancied some of Kyril’s man meat. Which I don’t, for the record. I’m sure it’s lovely and all, but I prefer English sausage, not Russian sausage.”

The conversation stalled for a good few minutes while my brain processed her verbal vomit. As always, she never ceased to surprise me with some of the shit she came out with.

“Well, good to know you don’t want to bang my boyfriend. Boyfriends .”

“Nope, all yours, girlfriend. So, you were saying… oh yes… knocked up.”

“Maybe,” I hedged.

She laughed. “Yeah right. You’re preggo, my friend.”

“I need to be sure.”

“You need a test. Got it.”

“Yeah. Can you get me one?”

“Course.” She said nothing for a few moments, but I could hear her moving around and then the faint murmur of a man’s voice. Shit, had Michael heard our conversation? I fucking hoped not. If he said anything to the guys, I was screwed. Oh wait. Too late. That had already happened.

“There’s something else I need to talk to you about as well…”

The guys were all sitting around the breakfast table when I walked in. Verity was up and dressed, much to my shame. Once again, I’d left someone else to care for her. If there was a ‘Worst Sister’ award, I was first in line for it.

All five of them looked up with expressions ranging from curious to worried. I wondered if Dario and Cassian knew about my undignified head-in-the-toilet session. Hopefully not. Nothing killed romance faster than spewing chunks.

Not that I was planning to get naked with Dario.

“So, what’s the plan today?” I nonchalantly poured myself a coffee while ignoring the mutant elephant in the room.

“I thought you were ill,” Kyril pointed out, cocking one eyebrow in a way that made it blatantly clear he didn’t believe my earlier excuse.

“To be honest, I don’t feel amazing,” I replied. No word of a lie there . “But I can’t sit around all day doing nothing. Maybe some fresh air will help.”

“Can we go walk on the beach?” Verity piped up eagerly. She was desperate to go exploring, but the weather had been vile the last few days. The tail-end of an Atlantic storm, or so Milo had informed me.

When I peered out of the window, blue sky greeted me. The wind had died down, and for once it wasn’t raining. I’d take that as a win.

“The tide is going out, so you’re safe,” Milo piped up, reminding me of an earlier conversation about high tide and imminent death.

“Yes, but you need to finish your breakfast and then brush your teeth.”

“I will!” While she eagerly finished her breakfast, I took a seat at the counter and pretended to peruse my phone, wishing I had my Kindle. I’d been half-way through a dark stalker romance e-book when Torrance kidnapped me. Not being able to finish the book was annoying.

After popping a slice of bread into the toaster, I wandered over to the shelves in the corner. Someone had left a stack of paperback novels, which made me think this place had been a holiday let before Declan snapped it up.

I picked up and discarded several before deciding on a mafia romance, mostly because the guy on the cover was bare-chested, tattooed, and seriously hot.

My toast popped up, but before I could move an inch, Milo spread some butter and jam on it and then put it on a plate for me.

“Eat this,” he said. “It will settle your stomach.” His eyes dipped down for a moment, lingering on my flat belly. “I made some ginger tea for you, too,” he added, passing me a china cup filled with a steaming spicy concoction. Damn, it smelled amazing. Almost as good as my coffee.

“Thank you.” I felt bad for being such a bitch in the bathroom, but it was for their own good. I didn’t need them worrying about me. They’d already put themselves in danger on my behalf.

“You’re welcome.”

Verity ran full-pelt toward the sea, ignoring my yells to slow down before she fell. This was her first time outdoors since we arrived. At home, she spent most of her time confined to the attic, unless our father was away. He didn’t want anyone to know she existed.

She danced on the pebbles as waves ebbed and flowed over glistening stones, water splashing over her boots. A box of outdoor clothing had mysteriously appeared the morning after our arrival. Boots, coats, hats, and scarves in her size. I had no idea who to thank, but I suspected Mrs. O’Malley was responsible.

She’d merely smiled when I questioned who the items belonged to and said it didn’t matter as long as they fitted the ‘wee girl’ .

Gulls soared high above, screeching loudly as I wandered along, my hands tucked inside my pockets. The guys were indoors. Kyril had wanted to come with me, but I told him we needed some sisterly bonding time.

There was no access to the beach other than via the cliff steps at the back of the house, so it was completely safe here. Unless my father launched an attack via boat, we were in no danger.

“Look, a shell!” Verity ran up with a large conch shell in her hands, her cheeks pink with cold and excitement. “I’m going to start a collection. Landon showed me how to create an Instagram account, so I can take photos and upload them.”

My heart leaped with anxiety. “Ver, it’s a terrible idea posting stuff online!”

She rolled her eyes in a way that reminded me my sister was nearly a teenager, even if she didn’t look it.

“I’m not dumb, sis. The account is in a random name and I won’t be posting any shots of us.”

I threw my hands in the air, now suitably chastised. “OK!”

“Let’s go over to the rocks. I want to see if there are any crabs caught in the rock pools.”

She thrust the shell at me and scampered off, her dark hair flying like a banner in the breeze.

By the time we’d explored all the many rock pools and found one extremely disgruntled crab, she’d taken a million photos on the smartphone Cassian had gifted her and finally ran out of energy. Meanwhile, I was ready for a nap. We turned back toward the house.

The wind had picked up, and the sun was nowhere in sight. I shivered. Ireland was undeniably beautiful, but part of me missed the warmer climate of our home country. As the sky grew more leaden, I wondered whether my child would ever get to see their ancestral home of sun-kissed olive groves and vineyards heavy with succulent grapes.

But then I remembered, Dad would be dead soon. And if he wasn’t, then I’d be dead and so would my child, because if my father discovered I was carrying the bratva heir’s baby, he’d not let either of us live.