Page 20 of Chains of Recompense
A memory hits hard and fast, and I can almost feel his lips on mine, taste the whiskey on his breath.
He still has the immaculate style he did back then, his dark suit crisp and fashionable, his dress shirt unbuttoned at his throat to give him that casual, rebellious edge.
But he fills his suit out in a way that suggests he’s lost the lean muscles of youth.
Instead, the man dressed in his fine Italian suit is all man, hard and unforgiving.
Even his eyes hold a haunting coldness they never did before.
As if he’s been to hell and back.
And after having lost his father, his home, and his family’s power all in one fell blow, I can imagine the truth is not far off.
As he stares me down, his gaze inscrutable, it takes every ounce of restraint I have not to wrap my arms protectively around my waist, to curl in on myself beneath the same sense of crushing rejection I felt all those years ago.
The shock of his sudden dismissal that night was like a bucket of ice water on top of our infernal chemistry.
And though I thought five years would be long enough to get over it—to get over him—the pain cuts as sharply as it did the night I last saw him.
I swallow hard to remove the sudden knot in my throat.
Then I clench my fists as fiery anger takes its place.
They say the opposite of love is indifference, and I’m ashamed to admit that, try as I might, I’m far from indifferent when it comes to Rafael Chiaroscuro—no matter how much I wish I were.
This was such a bad idea.
I don’t know what I was thinking.
My father gestures toward me, breaking through my spiraling thoughts, and I suck in a ragged breath as he says, “Aisling has agreed to marry you. The union will solidify our alliance and make our loyalty unbreakable.”
Raf laughs, the sound cold and so unlike the sound I recall from our passionate nights together. “Unbreakable? You’re selling your daughter and want to call that proof of loyalty?”
His mocking disdain lights my temper on fire. Because my family wouldneversell me.
This is a decision we made together.
But a man like Raf would never understand that kind of loyalty, and I can see it as clear as day as I narrow my eyes at him.
“I’m no one’s possession to be sold,” I snap, then take another deep breath before my emotions can run away with me.
My father rises from his chair, adjusting his cufflinks casually, though I can see the tension in his shoulders.
He’s ready to put a fist in Raf’s face for such a brash statement. “We’ll leave you two to discuss it.”
A concession my father agreed to before we left the house, though I know he’s loath to leave me alone with the Chiaroscuro Don.
His blue eyes, so like mine, catch and hold my gaze, his hand falling softly on my shoulder as he silently lends me strength. Then he, Ryan, Cillian, and Patrick step from the room.
Pulse hammering with fury that just barely masks my nerves, I turn to find Raf studying my face with an intensity that unnerves me.
I don’t like the way he makes me feel, and I fold my arms across my chest, wielding my anger defensively. “You’re staring,” I point out, ignoring the shiver that runs down my spine.
“I’m trying to decide whether this is a nightmare,” he says, but a hint of playfulness laces his tone.
“You always did have a flair for dramatics,” I counter flatly.
That earns me a humorless smile. “I didn’t think I’d ever seeyouagain.”
