Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
The next day, we have dinner with the whole family. It's loud and chaotic as always, and she fits right in.
Bianca sits beside me, her hand in mine under the table, and I watch her laugh at Seamus's terrible jokes. Watch her hold her own in a debate with Declan about American politics.
“She's lovely,” Aunt Caitlin says, catching my eye. “Don't let her go, Ash.”
“I won't.”
“Good,” she says. “Your parents will like her.”
My mum and da haven't come yet. We're keeping things quiet—not a lot of in and out of the house. But now that Crowning's gone into hiding, I've been thinking about bringing them round.
“Ashland,” Bianca says softly, leaning toward me. “I'm thinking I want to help with the family business.”
I tense. “Bianca—”
“I know I don't have the skills that Erin has or the training like you do, but I can learn. I want to learn.”
“You don't have to—”
“I want to.” Her chin lifts, stubborn and beautiful. “I don't want to sit around and be protected. I want to be useful. I want to be part of this.”
“Right.” I'll talk to Erin, see if she has any ideas.
“I have a degree,” she tells me. “I studied, you know.”
“I know.”
“I'm not exactly sure how my history degree is going to help you,” she says with a grin.
“Better than the degree I have, isn't it?”
“Which is?”
“None.” She grins wider.
“But if you work for us, you'll listen to me.” My voice goes hard. “You follow orders. My orders. Seamus's orders. If I say something's too dangerous, you listen to me, lass. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
I pull her close and breathe her in. “I never thought I'd have this,” I whisper. “Someone to come home to. Someone who sees all of me and stays.”
“I'm not going anywhere, Ashland McCarthy,” she says. “You're stuck with me.”
“Good,” I whisper.
I couldn't save my brother. Couldn't protect what mattered most. But I'll be damned if I fail Bianca.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Bianca
It's been three weeks since the night I discovered who my mother really was. She hasn't reached out to me, not once. Three weeks since my world shattered and reformed into something darker, surer, sharper—but truer.
Three weeks since I stopped fighting what I know, what we are. The McCarthy family house has become home, and Ashland's arms are my sanctuary. Somewhere in the quiet, between his possession and my surrender, I've found a peace I never knew existed.
I miss the cabin, and I look forward to going back. Apparently, he used to own a flat right here in the city, but then bought the cabin after he started tracking me. It's so Ashland to make such a dramatic gesture for someone he'd never met, but already claimed as his own.
Makes me laugh when I think about it. I miss that quiet solitude. I miss Lancelot, and I look forward to going back.
But here—here with the McCarthys—we have family. Anyone who has both solitude and family is the richest person there is. Tonight, the peace that comes with finally accepting who I am fills the kitchen, where I stand arranging plates while Ashland moves behind me, his body a wall of heat at my back.
But right now, all I can think about is that I'm meeting his parents tonight. What are they going to think of me? I've seen pictures—he's told me about them, and he loves them—but what if they don't like me?
“You look beautiful,” he whispers in my ear, his breath warm against my skin. “So fucking beautiful. Look at you.”
I’m wearing a dress I borrowed from Bronwyn.
If you'd asked me a month ago what I thought of Bronwyn McCarthy, I would have said she was absolutely gorgeous and completely untouchable. Now here I am wearing her clothes. Shows just how much my mother's poisoned perception got into my head. Bronwyn's beautiful, and I can be too.
And I am beautiful.
It's a pretty sweater-sheath dress that hugs my curves and dips just low enough to show a hint of cleavage in the front. Warm and pretty but practical. Kyla braided my hair. She's quiet and reserved but loyal—her fingers patient and careful. Erin lent me the most beautiful emerald necklace that catches the light when I move. And Aunt Caitlin lent me a pair of black flats.
I haven't bought any new clothes since we came here because the McCarthy women have so many—they've kept me completely outfitted. It’s fun, like I'm the little sister who gets to raid everybody's closet.
I just want it to be perfect.
I lean back into Ashland, letting him take my weight. “Your parents haven't seen you this—you know, settled. And I don't want to—”
“They'll love you.” His mouth brushes my temple, soft despite the roughness of his voice. “They'll see how much I do, and they will.” His hands find my hips with that casual ownership that still makes my breath catch. “You're working yourself into a state.”