But he doesn’t make Elena happy. All she sees is the blood on his hands. Her trauma’s all wrapped up in him.
Even so, I’m trying to find peace between them. Tonight I thought I’d try to lure her out with a nice family dinner.
Which is not going as I imagined. Am I delusional to try? Maybe.
Will Elena always see Cian as the enemy? Probably. I sigh.
“Fine. I won’t bother you anymore.” My forehead rests against the wooden door. “I love you, Elle. I’m so sorry for everything.”
With another heaved sigh, I turn away and head to the dining room. On my way, I pass by one of the compound’s recreational rooms, which brims with conversation and laughter. These Irishmen are a rowdy bunch, but they don’t bother me as much as they used to anymore. I’m starting to grow accustomed to their culture.
Similar to us Italians, they are family focused. Many of these men are related to each other either directly or distantly. Cian’s clan is composed of four main family lines, him being the last of the O’Rourkes until we have a child. He’s distant relatives with the McIvers, and somehow the Cullens and Teagans share the blood of an ancient Irish king. Apparently that’s enough for them to call each other family.
I don’t dare ask for clarification due to the fact that these Celts haven’t warmed up to me at all. They seem even more uncomfortable now that Elle’s living here too. Like one Italian woman wasn’t bad enough, now they have two in their midst.
Maybe bringing my sister here was a bad idea.
Two men spot me as I walk past the doorway, and they immediately lower their gazes. Cian really did put the fear of god into them. I just hope they don’t hold it against me forever. The respectful distance they keep from me serves as a constant reminder that I’m an outsider, a stranger.
On entering the dining room, I find Cian slouched in a chair. He straightens up, peering at me with a questioning expression. He’s cleaned up more than usual tonight, his wild hair secured at his nape, clean shaven, and he’s wearing a dark blue suit with a pale colored tie. He would appear more businessman, and less Irish mobster, if not for his facial scars.
“She’s not coming,” I inform him, taking a seat.
“I’m sorry.” He sounds sincere, though he’s losing patience with Elena. He hasn’t said anything about it yet, but I can tell by the way he clenches his jaw when we speak of her.
“I’m not sure how to?—”
The door bursts open. Elena stands on the threshold wearing a soiled, mismatched pajama set. Dark circles surround her haunted eyes. Her hair hasn’t been brushed in weeks.
My lips part in shock at her appearance.
“I…” her voice croaks. “I’m sorry.” She takes one look at Cian and bursts into tears.
Standing, I hurry to her side and wrap my arms around her trembling frame. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” Tossing Cian an apologetic glance, I usher my twin from the room. “Come on. We’ll eat in your room.”
We make it back to her bedroom without running into anybody. Thankfully. As soon as we’re inside, her ragged breathing evens out.
Firmly closing the door behind us, I dial the kitchen and inform the staff of our change in dinner plans. Then I send a quick, apologetic text to Cian. He responds instantly with a kissy emoji—which makes me smile.
“I’m sorry, Ven, but I can’t be around that man. Or any of these men.” Elena hugs herself as she stares out the window that overlooks the backyard. This time of year, the landscape is just beginning to bud with Spring. “I’ve been working on it with my therapist, but I don’t think that will ever change. It’s not just howmany of our people they murdered. Large menterrifyme. They all remind me of the man who kept me in acage.”
“I understand, I do.” I plop down on her unmade bed. “I’ve been thinking—and don’t take this the wrong way—but maybe you need to leave the city. Or even… this country.”
She faces me, her bloodshot eyes alight with curiosity. “Where would I go?”
“Italy.” I lick my lips. “I’m not trying to get rid of you, so don’t start thinking you’re too much of a burden or anything. Getting far away from here might be good for you. Of course, I’d visit?—”
“Yes.” She settles beside me. “I want to go. Ineedto go. I’m going crazy here, but didn’t want to say anything, afraid you’d think I’m ungrateful. You’ve done so much to help me. But I need space. I need to find a way to help myself.”
I pull her in for a hug. “I’m so glad we’re on the same page. It’s settled then. I’ll make some calls and hopefully you’ll be on your way to Italy soon.”
Her sigh of relief tugs at my heart. “Thank you.”
A knock sounds at her door, and her entire body goes rigid. I smooth my hands down her arms. “It’s just dinner.”
“Right.” She visibly swallows. “Okay.”
I go to answer the door, letting in the staff member who’s kind enough to bring up our food, and my stomach drops at Elena’s reaction. She’s frozen in place as the old Irish butler sets the tray on her table.
