Page 57 of Reckless Seduction
“No, it’s not.” She shakes her head.
Running a hand through my disheveled hair, I sigh. “I’m their prisoner, Ava,” I remind her. “They don’t talk to me about anything. Don’t ask about what I like or don’t like. They don’t tell me about themselves besides random stories here and thereabout growing up. Hell, I don’t even know their favorite colors or how old they are.”
“Are those things really important, though?”
“Uh…” I’m not sure how to answer that. Of course they are important. Right? How else do you get to know someone? Isn’t that how you learn about the ones you want to be with? By knowing that they seem to both favor a dark maroon that brings out the green in their eyes. The way they vehemently refuse to put cream or sugar in their coffee. Seamus seems to thrive off verbal praise, while Kiernan is more about subtle touches.
They are hard, sometimes exacting in the way they deal with their men, but they are fair, listening to the complaints of their people. I’ve heard them on video calls countless times, checking in with their lieutenants, inquiring about the community. They are caring and passionate.
“You know more about them than you think you do.” Ava grins cheekily. “One of the first things I learned from my asshat of a husband is that words are nothing more than wasted air. Pretty lies wrapped up in decadent packaging. What matters are the actions. Their touches. Their smiles. Your mind pays attention to them, even if you think it doesn’t. They might not ask, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t paying attention.”
Now I’m the one crying.
Stupid tear ducts.
Stupid Irish Yoda.
TWENTY-ONE
I stayin the spare room long after Ava leaves, curled up on the bed as I stare out the window facing the main street. Tomorrow night is the night, and a pit of unease begins to grow in my stomach. The twins have been gone all day on business, muttering about taking care of a few loose ends before the gala.
Ava’s words stay with me as I watch the sun sink behind the steel trappings of the city. Is anyone looking for me? Ever since I can remember, I’ve been obsessed with working. Making my own way. I graduated from high school at sixteen. College by nineteen, and I became one of the city’s leading reporters by the time I was twenty-two.
The signs were all there. I just continually ignored them.
For years, I pushed myself, and for what? It never brought me any joy. I did it to get out from under my father and away from Drew. As much as I wanted the arrangement to work, I knew in my soul, all along, that it wasn’t the right fit. Even if I’d done everything right—married him and been his trophy wife—he still would have wound up in bed with Brittany. Because that is the type of man he is.
The last week has shown me things I would never have found if Seamus and Kiernan hadn’t kidnapped me. They opened my mind to what I’ve been missing.
Me.
For so long, I did nothing but live in the shadow of my father and stepmother. Shunned and kept away simply for being born. I was a mistake, and I let that dictate my life. I may have won my small freedoms, but now, away from the influence of my family, I realize that I hadn’t won those. They allowed them because they were useful.
Drew was meant to be my escape. Even if he was arranged by my father, it was still more freedom than I’d ever had. But, in reality, he was another trap set to keep me subdued. The only thing that saved me was his desperation to get out from under his father.
I have always been a pawn, and I hate that I never truly noticed that nothing has been my decision.
I just want to be able to make my own choices.
“There you are, wildcat.” I am so caught up in my inner musings that I don’t hear the door to the room open. “What are you still doing in here? Nan said you finished trying on your gala dress hours ago.”
Shrugging a shoulder, I continue to stare out the window, not moving. Ava’s words are still churning in my mind, and I can’t seem to let them go. The side of me that still believes in princes and knights, the little girl who dreams of fairy tales, wants with all her heart to believe that these two men care about me.
That I am more to them than just the sum of my last name.
“Hey, now,” he whispers. The bed dips behind me, and then Seamus is pulling me into his lap. “What’s all this?”
“I don’t know.” I cuddle closer to his warm, broad chest. “Just anxious about going home tomorrow night, I guess.” Seamus’s arms tighten around my smaller frame, one handrunning soothing circles down my back while his other hand comes to my cheek.
“We won’t let anything happen to you, Bailey.” He holds my gaze, his emerald eyes locking with mine as he conveys how serious he is. “I promise you that. You’re ours, wildcat, and we protect what’s ours.”
That is the crux of the situation, though, isn’t it?
I am not theirs. I can never be theirs, and I open my mouth to tell him so, but he silences me with a kiss. Soft, tender, and slow. Like we have all the time in the world.
“You’re ours, Bailey,” he vows, edging himself off the bed with me still in his arms. “And we’re going to show you just how much.”
We are off. I hold on to his neck as he carries me out of the spare room and back to the one I have spent every night in. The bed they’ve pleasured me in, fucked me in, held me in.
