Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 93463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
I turn and meet his gaze. His blue eyes burn, cheeks flushed with heat and heartbreak.
“I’m not either,” I tell him honestly.
He cups my cheek in his palm. “You’re my good girl,” he says. “And nobody’s going to take that away. Do you understand me?”
I nod, my throat tight.
“Listen to me, lass. No matter what happens, no matter what, you need to trust me. You need to know that I love you. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I say, my breath catching. “Yes, I do.”
I reach for him. “And I love you, Seamus. Please… tell me what happens next.”
“I wish I could,” he whispers.
“Would you hurt me?” I ask quietly.
He hesitates. “I’m afraid even the rocks have eyes and ears now that Branson's here. He’s going to try to kill me, you know.”
“What?”
“He’ll make it look like an accident,” Seamus says with weight. “That’s how he works. He wouldn’t dare kill me outright. My father would never forgive him, but an accident? That, he can do.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I have a plan,” he says softly. “Like I said. You have to trust me. Will you?”
“Okay,” I whisper. “I trust you. Let’s head in. It’s getting late.” He kisses my cheek. “I love this dress on you, love.”
I smile. “You like everything you pick out for me?”
He shrugs, even though his eyes are sad. “What can I say?” He tugs a lock of my hair. “I have good taste.”
The family’s seated for a late dinner. Seamus pulls out my chair without looking at me. We eat in silence. I barely taste anything.
Caitlin tries to speak, to make something of the stillness, but finally gives up.
Seamus won’t look at me.
He’s gone stone-cold. The man from outside, who held me, who asked me to trust him, feels like someone I imagined.
He clears the dishes like a machine. I follow him.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
His jaw ticks. “I think you should go upstairs, Zoya. Go to bed. I don’t want to talk right now.”
I blink. What?
I linger, staring, hoping something in him will soften. Finally, I go upstairs. My chest is a knot.
I try to read but can’t stay focused. But I don’t sleep. I wander the house, then slip out the back door. The sea air is bitter.
Outside, the cliffside is slick with salt and spray. The ocean yawns black and endless below.
And then, I see them.
Branson, standing at the edge.
Ashland, beside him.
No Seamus.
“You there,” Branson barks. “What are you doing out here alone? Does your husband know?”
I don’t answer.
Ashland’s voice snaps like a whip. “Speak when you’re spoken to, lass. Don’t you fucking walk away.”
I hear heavy footsteps behind me.
Seamus.
He takes me in with one glance, then he looks to Branson and Ash. The setting sun throws shadows across his face.
“Zoya.” His voice is low, a warning.
“Why do they hate me?” I whisper.
“You know why,” he says. “You shouldn’t be here.”
I am over the coldness. “I’m not leaving.”
He steps closer. But the cold in the air shifts, becomes something else. It’s in him. In his eyes. They’re empty. Shuttered. Dead.
“You disobeyed me,” he says. His hand closes around my arm, tightly. It hurts.
And he walks me toward them.
Toward Branson. Toward Ashland.
What the hell is he doing?
“I told you to go inside,” he says. “You disobeyed. So I can punish you right here.”
This isn’t like before. This isn’t play. This isn’t him.
“Seamus,” I plead. “No, you can’t—”
He doesn’t stop.
“Did you really think this was all about you? That you could do whatever you wanted?”
He waits for me to answer. But I can’t. I’m frozen. I can’t speak.
“You know why you’re here,” he says sharply. “You were convenient.” His mouth twists, and he doesn’t meet my eyes.
“I don’t need you anymore, Zoya. You can’t even give me a child.”
The words are like a fist. I suck in a breath.
“Seamus… you’re lying. This isn’t you. What are you doing?”
He steps closer. Drops his voice.
“No, Zoya. This is me. You just fell for a fantasy. You fell in love with what you wanted me to be.”
“Why are you saying this?” I whisper. “Seamus—”
But then I remember what he said.
Trust me.
No matter what happens.
But I can’t. I can’t.
“This is over,” he says. “I must choose loyalty to my family.”
“What?” My voice breaks. “What are you—?”
We’re at the edge of the cliff now. The wind howls. My feet slip on wet stone.
“Your family doesn’t want you anymore,” he says, leaning in. “You betrayed them.”
His breath touches my cheek. “And I don’t want you anymore either. I used you to get to them. Now that I have access, this is over. I’m a McCarthy… loyalty to blood comes first, regardless of what you think this charade was about, regardless of what you want or how you feel about me.”
Then his hands are on my shoulders.
And suddenly, I’m teetering. I blink, trying to wake myself from this horrid dream, but it’s real, and it’s all happening too fast.