Page 149 of Ruthless Claim

There’s no saving my makeup situation, so I open my purse, rummaging for my makeup wipes.

I carefully wipe off my makeup then splash cold water on my face. My mother would be horrified to see that I am out in a public place sans makeup, but I also think she may understand why I don’t exactly care right now.

Taking another deep breath, I open the door, hoping I can get the fuck out of here without anyone noticing.

Unfortunately for me, Cillian is in the hallway. I halt in my tracks, my mouth dry and my stomach flopping uncomfortably.

Fuck.

He’s leaning against the wall across from the bathroom door, arms crossed.

When I come out the anguish on his face is so visceral that it almost undoes what little composure I’ve reassembled. His jaw is tight and his eyes look pained as he pushes off the wall when he sees me.

He opens his mouth, but I shake my head.

“No, Cillian.” I hold up a hand. I hate how my voice wavers. “No.”

He stops, his mouth working as he stares at me pleadingly.

“I need time,” I manage to say. I keep my hand up because it’s the only thing between us and I need the distance. “I need to think. I need to—there’s too much happening right now and I cannot—” My voice breaks and I pause, breathing to re-orient myself. “I just need time. Please.”

“Okay,” he says, his blue eyes locked on mine. “Okay. I understand that. I just need you to know—whatever you’re thinking right now about Claire, it’s not⁠—”

I close my eyes. I really don’t want to hear her name right now. “Cillian.”

“She doesn’t mean anything to me,” Cillian continues, almost desperately. “Whatever we had was nine years ago, it was⁠—”

“Stop.” I tell him firmly, drinking in his features. I’ve never seen Cillian Brennan look so absolutely destroyed in my life. “It doesn’t matter what she means to you.”

He flinches. My heart aches but I force myself to continue.

“She’s the mother of your firstborn son.” I hear myself say it and I hate each word that comes out of my mouth. “She is going to be in our lives forever. And I probably could have lived with that if you had been honest from me from the beginning. But you didn’t. Instead, you took that choice away from me and made me look like a fool.”

He flinches again, looking ashamed.

I take a deep breath. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

By Cillian’s sharp intake of breath, he wasn’t expecting me to say that. He looks horrified. “Val⁠—”

“I’m not saying I can’t,” I say quickly, because I need him to hear the distinction. “I’m saying I don’t know. I need time to figure out if I can.” I lower my hand and step away from him. “Please don’t follow me.”

He doesn’t, but I can feel his eyes on me as I escape the clinic.

My mother opens the door.

She takes one look at my face and I catch the quick flash of maternal horror of seeing your child destroyed and knowing you cannot fix it on her face before she smooths it back out.

Thankfully, she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she steps back and lets me in.

I walk through the door.

“What happened, Valentina?” My mother prods gently.

I open my mouth but instead what comes out is a garbled and choked. “Mamma.”

My mother grabs me then, placing both her hands on my face, her fingers cool against my hot, swollen skin. “Tell me everything,” she says softly and leads me deeper into the house.

So I do. While sitting on the sofa that’s been here since before I was born, I tell her everything through sobs. Mamma holds me close, arm around my shoulders, my head against hers as she slowly strokes my hair.