PROLOGUE
DELANEY
Staring at the baggage claim turning around and around, I cross my arms tightly over my chest. It’s mesmerizing, and my mind drifts away. The mechanical whirr drones in my ears.
Bran and I had once stood here, in this very spot. I roll my shoulders tightly, arching slightly at the phantom sensation of my brother wrapping his arm around me. That moment when a light sparked to life in the darkness. I wish I could feel his arms on me for real instead of just imagining it.
“Oh.” I blink when my luggage comes tumbling down the conveyor belt. The sudden appearance of it shocking me out of my daydream. Grabbing the handle hastily, I grunt as I hoist the bag off the carousel. Extending the handle, I glance around the busy terminal before hauling arse towards the exit. I need to hurry up out of here before I end up on a flight back. My hands are clammy, my face hot as I look around through aching eyes. Gulping down the dense lump in my throat, I fight a groan as I weave through people, trying not to touch anyone.
Holding my breath, I check the time on my phone before biting back a sigh. It’s late, nearly ten at night. Bran and Luna are probably sleeping. Her graduation is tomorrow; I regret taking the flight a day earlier. Groaning softly, I press the back of my hand to my forehead before catching sight of a restaurant sign hanging over the thoroughfare.
“Bran and Luna moved into another flat. . . I could just go to the old one,” I mutter to myself, my voice lost under the shuffle of a hundred feet. “They should’ve fixed it up by now. I remember Bran saying something about it when we talked the other day.”
Ducking into the restaurant, I wait for the hostess to seat me and give me a menu before checking my phone. I have dozens of missed calls and ignored texts from Eamon, but none from Keenan. Grimacing deeply, I lick my lips nervously as I navigate my contacts.
“I don’t know,” I mumble as I hold my phone to my ear. The line trills, and I hold my breath as a cold sweat breaks out on my back when someone picks up. “H- hey, Delilah?”
“Delaney? Wow, it’s been a long time,” She sounds breathless, and I crack a ghost of a smile. At least someone is happy to hear from me. “I’m so glad you called me! How’ve you been? Switzerland went well?”
“Yeah- yeah, it went great. Are you busy right now? I just want to talk to someone who’s not Bran,” I answer, and she sighs a gust. Propping my elbows on the table, I duck my head into my free hand. “It’s been. . . a long road.”
“Trust me, I get it. Ever since I gave birth, the only people I’ve been around are Keenan and the house staff. It’s driving me crazy!” She reveals, and my head snaps up as a shocked gasp escapes my throat. Delilah squeaks lightly as my heart leaps into my throat. “What? You had the baby? Really!”
She stops talking for a second until she lets out a sigh, “Oh, I forgot! No one knows. I’m not supposed to tell anyone ‘for my safety’ and, like, I get it, but I still am going stir crazy. Do you want me to send you a picture?”
“I can’t believe you had the baby? Congratulations!” I say, blinking hard as a grin strains my cheeks. Finally some good news! “That’s so amazing, Delilah! I’m so happy for you! I know he was super big.”
“9 pounds, 4 ounces of cute dinner roll legs and powerful lungs he uses liberally,” Delilah replies, and I can hear her smile in her voice. I chuckle wryly, blinking back tears of unknown origins. A nephew. I have a nephew. I let out a soft sigh and the line goes silent for a second.
“Delilah, is everything okay? You don’t sound like yourself.” I do my best to keep the smile on my face but she can’t fight the depression and anger back any longer.
“I’m dying here, Delaney. I cannae stand looking at these people anymore! It’s always the same questions, and I always have the same answers! And no one wants to argue with me! Not even Keenan! He just- just gives in to anything I ask! Do you know how fucking frustrating that is?”
“Um, no. . . I don’t. Bran updated me on Petra Frey,” I change the subject clumsily. “She’s hiding out in Germany somewhere, aye?”
“Unfortunately, that’s the word. After Liam’s kidnapping went awry, she went deep underground. Keenan says she hasn’t left her penthouse in months and sends her kids to do her business,” Delilah reveals, and I hum and nod in acknowledgment. “There’s a massive bounty on her. It’s up to 13 million euros. Her hotel chains aren’t suffering, of course; they’re mostly legitimate, after all.”
“13? There’s a pool?” A harsh bark of laughter escapes me at the notion. “Why?”
“She fucking went after Liam Mackenzie. . . and worse, she failed miserably. Petra poses a risk to everyone if she has the balls to go after Liam in his own home,” Delilah pauses as a horrendously shrill shriek sounds in the background. “Oh, I have to go. I’ll call you back in, like, 40 minutes, Delaney.”
“Okay,” I answer quickly before Delilah hangs up, and I set my phone down to stare at the screen. “I didn’t even get a chance to ask her about the job. . . but I guess it’s off the table anyway. I’ll have to look here in London. It- it’s probably for the best, anyway. I don’t know if I can go back.” I say to myself trying to force my brain to accept what is. I’m stuck here for the foreseeable future.
I push my phone out of the way to stare at the menu, but nothing seems appealing. No meal jumps out to me on the laminated page. Looking up and around, I glance at the people leisurely eating hoping that something will look good.
“I don’t know what to get,” I say to myself before catching sight of a man at the bar. He’s staring right at me, and I purse my lips thinly before looking away. Out of the corner of my eye, the man gestures to the bartender, but I force myself to scan the menu. “Maybe, I’ll just get something greasy. I did great on that healthy diet at the rehab place. I deserve it.” The thought of putting the unhealthy food in my system turns my stomach but I think a treat is in order.
“What can I get you?” Looking up at the waitress, I raise my brows as I point at the menu toward the photo of what I want.
“An order of curly fries, an order of fried mozzarella, and. . . um, how big is the chicken pot pie?” I ask, looking up to her, and she gestures with her hands. Satisfaction worms through my veins as I nod, holding out the menu. “I’ll take one, please. Thanks.” The previous stomach ache I had thinking about the food dissipates now that I’ve heard what I’m going to get out loud. My mouth waters just thinking about it.
“Anything to drink while you wait?” She asks, pen poised over her little notepad.
“Just water, please. With lemon on the side?” She nods before flouncing away through the dining floor towards the bar, and I watch her go. My gaze meets the man I’d seen earlier, and he holds up his glass with a curious arch of his brow. It’s obvious what he wants, and I tilt my head back before he slides off his stool. I grab my phone to stuff it into my purse sitting in my lap as the man sits across from me. “Why’re you watching me?”
“You lit up the place the moment you stepped through the door,” He smiles warmly, leaning over his beer with sparkling eyes. Holding out his hand, he only pulls back when I eyeball his outstretched fingers warily. “I’m Baron.”
“Delaney. If you came over expecting something, I’m not interested,” I say, wanting to clear the air immediately. Surprise raises his brows, and Baron leans back to grab his beer and tap the side of the glass. “I just got off my flight, and I’m tired, and I have a lot to do tomorrow.”
