Page 16 of Velvet Chains (The Dark Prince of Boston #2)

Chapter Fifteen: Ruby

W hat the fuck was I doing?

I pressed my back against the door and let myself slide down until I hit the floor. Pulled my knees up. Buried my face in them. I felt shaky all over—overstimulated and overspent and yet… somehow empty.

I didn’t want him to stay gone.

But I didn’t want him here, either. Not really. Not when I knew what it cost me.

Not when I had Rosie upstairs.

The thought snapped me out of it. Shame seared hotter than his mouth ever had. I shoved myself up, made sure I was presentable in case Rosie woke up, and marched to the bathroom.

I turned the water on hot—too hot. Let it steam the mirrors and scald my skin. I wanted to feel clean again. I needed to.

I washed everywhere. Twice. Scrubbed until my skin prickled and went pink. I tilted my head back and let the spray hit my face, hoping it would knock something loose, hoping it would make me stop hearing his voice in my head.

You can’t get rid of me, Ruby.

I dug my fingers into my hair and squeezed my eyes shut.

You’re mine.

I stayed there too long. When I finally shut off the water, the house felt quiet again, but more in a spooky way than a comforting way, like the world was waiting to see what I would do next.

Or like it was waiting for the perfect moment to reveal whoever the fuck was threatening me, if Kieran was telling the truth.

I towel-dried, threw on a soft long-sleeve tee and fresh sleep shorts, and padded barefoot upstairs. My legs still felt unsteady, like he’d taken something from me and left me hollow in all the wrong places.

Rosie’s door was cracked.

I pushed it open carefully, keeping my weight on the balls of my feet so the floor wouldn’t creak.

She was curled up in her bed, holding her worn little stuffed bunny, her hair a mess of curls against the pillow, but her eyes cracked open when I came in.

She was sleepy, confused…she’d slept right through it all. “Mami?”

My throat tightened.

“Yeah, baby. It’s just me.”

She blinked at me, still half-dreaming. “I thought you went out. I went to find you.”

My heart stuttered, shame and fear minling at the prospect that she’d seen even a second of what just happened downstairs…until I realized she’d just been dreaming.

I exhaled.

“I was just watching TV,” I said. “You know you can always shout for me.”

She groaned. “Too sleepy.”

Oh, sweetheart. I felt so fucking bad.

“Oh, mi amor,” I said. “I was here the whole time.”

“Good.” Her lashes fluttered. She edged herself closer to the wall, making space. “Want you close tonight. I dreamt that a tiger ate daddy.”

My heart cracked. Then healed. Then cracked all over again.

“Okay, baby,” I whispered. “I’m right here. There are no tigers in Boston. Nothing’s going to get us, okay?”

She sighed, already drifting. I wished I believed my own words.

I climbed into bed with her, scooping her against my chest and tucking my nose into the sweet, familiar scent of her hair.

But I didn’t sleep; I just lay there staring at the ceiling, listening to the small, even sound of her breath and wondering how much longer it would be this easy to hold her and hush away the tigers.

How much longer before she’d know the truth.

Before I wouldn’t be able to lie to her about anything.

Before the world got to her the way it already had to me.

I had to keep her safe.

That meant keeping her in my arms and keeping Kieran out of our lives. Keeping his family and their secrets far away from the perfect little illusion I’d built. An illusion where I wasn’t a liar, where Rosie didn’t have to pay for my mistakes, where I didn’t fall for the same man twice.

I didn’t know how to explain any of it to Rosie. Not when I barely knew how to explain it to myself.

Did I tell her that her father was a gangster?

That he was dangerous in all the ways girls liked when they didn’t know any fucking better?

That I had been lonely and desperate myself, I hadn’t been old enough to fall pregnant, he had been so fucking attractive with his Irish accent and life on the line all the time?

That I had fallen for him, fallen hard enough to let him break my heart?

That the man she believed was her father wasn’t in the picture when I got pregnant with her?

What would I say when she asked, “Where is he now?”

“Right outside the door, ruining your future,” would be the answer.

“Ruining my office,” would be the answer.“Ruining my life,” would be the answer.

I closed my eyes and exhaled as calmly as I could with Rosie asleep on my shoulder, her little body warm and safe and so small against mine. She trusted me. She believed I could keep her away from the tigers, from the danger, from the world.

She thought it was easy to protect her.

She didn’t know how close I’d come to letting it all fall to pieces.

I buried my face in her curls and imagined what it would be like if I actually had the strength to shut it down. To cut him off. To focus on her without worrying about him.

She’d be okay. She’d grow up with enough love from me and Alek and Julian. One day she’d understand how complicated it had been, how much it had cost, why it was better without him in our lives.

She’d forgive me for keeping the truth at a distance, for keeping the illusion intact.

She rolled over, already asleep again, and I let myself breathe deep for the first time that night. But even as I held her as close as I could, I felt the empty space where Kieran would never quite fill in.

***

I woke up to sunlight stabbing through the blinds and Rosie snuggled so close to me I couldn’t tell where she ended and I began.

For a second, it felt normal. Too normal.

I untangled myself from her and she flopped down on her stomach.

Staying quiet, I padded my way to the bedroom and grabbed my phone, grimacing at my calendar.

I was supposed to be meeting with Julian today because he wanted to introduce Rosie to the woman he was dating, and to make it as normal as possible, Julian had insisted that Alek and I were also there. So that was…weird.

I rubbed my eyes and debated texting Julian to cancel, but that would have turned into a whole thing. I could picture the texts now, coming at me rapid fire.

You said this was important for Rosie.

You said you wanted us to be civilized.

You said this wasn’t about us.

And it wasn’t—not really. Not even about him or his painfully curated “look how normal and healthy I am” new girlfriend. No…this was about Rosie. She needed to know that she had grownups who could get along and play nice and sit across the table without ripping each other’s throats out.

Grownups who were very Adult and Civilized and definitely weren’t fucking gangsters

I’d at least attained some level of humanity–thanks in large part to multiple cups of coffee–by the time Rosie came in sleepy and barefoot, rubbing her eyes. I leaned down to kiss her forehead, stroking her hair back from her temple.

“You hungry, baby?”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around my leg. “Pancakes.”

“You can get super fancy pancakes at lunch with Dad,” I said. “You need help getting dressed?”

She yawned against my leg. “I’m gonna wear my sparkle dress.”

“Of course you are,” I muttered. “Because nothing says brunch like sequins and whipped cream.”

She perked up immediately. “Can I get chocolate chips on my pancakes? And strawberries? And bananas? And whipped cream? And—”

“Whatever you want,” I interrupted. “It’s brunch. We’re legally required to overdo it.”

“Cool!” She took off in a blur of curls and chaos, racing back to her room to get pancake-ready.

I hoped the sparkle dress didn’t come with a tiara this time. But I wasn’t betting on it

I needed to get dressed, too–and I wasn’t feeling the whole sparkly dress vibe.

I went to the bathroom and locked the door behind me, then moved to the mirror and stared at my reflection.

My eyes were darker than my hair. They felt too serious, too intense.

Guilt and exhaustion lined my face, and I tried to wash it off with a splash of cold water.

I needed to get my shit together. I needed to be functional.

I needed not to unravel.

In any way that mattered, we weren’t married anymore—not officially—and he might not have been her biological father, but Julian would protect her if anything happened to me.

Rosie had a complicated family, but she still had one, and even though I’d cut Kieran out of it, she’d never be alone.

My mom’s sisters would love her; Julian’s family, polite and patrician old money, they would throw lavish parties for her and let no one know she wasn’t actually one of them.

But that wouldn’t happen, because I’d still be around.

I’d learn how to shut Kieran out. I’d learn how to keep us safe.

I wasn’t going to let him destroy all the work I had put into cultivating a perfect, normal life for Rosie. Because I was stronger than that. Wasn’t I? Why couldn’t I fucking do that? Because he was good with his mouth? With his fingers? Because I…cared about him?

No.

“Mami,” Rosie called from the other room. “Can I wear pajamas?”

“Only if I, too, can wear pajamas.”

“Oh, no,” she said. “Nevermind!”

I kicked my way out of my sleep shorts and pulled on a pair of black leggings, then tied my hair into a functional bun and tugged on a wool sweater. When I unlocked the door and left the bathroom, I found Rosie in a white dress with pink hearts and glitter sneakers.

“I’m ready!” she said.

Yeah, she looked ready.

I looped a rainbow scarf around her neck and grabbed our coats. “Okay, punk. Let’s hit it.”

“Mami,” she said as I turned the car on. “Are you and Daddy going to live together again?”

I sighed as we walked out the door. “Probably not, peanut. It’s a lot calmer when we don’t live in the same place. Don’t you think so?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I guess. You both seem less sad.”

I had to avert my eyes as I buckled her in.