When Delaney mentioned Switzerland, I couldn’t help but wonder . . . if something had happened on her day off. While she might’ve been on the fritz lately, she wasn’t averse to my touch. Confusion bangs against the backs of my eyes, threatening to pop them from their sockets. I grimace, staring down at my lack of notifications before pocketing my phone once again.
“This way,” I grumble. I have more important things to worry about than Delaney getting help. Pressing the key card against the scanner, I open the door and gesture my brother and mother inside. “There’s a menu on the table. The kitchen’s on a skeleton crew right now because we’re undergoing renovations, and the events usually have their own catering. It might be a little longer than usual to be served.”
“I need to freshen up.” Mother all but shouts angrily, stomping toward the open bathroom door. I look around warily.
Shit. Now I need to change rooms so my mother hasn’t tainted a space Delaney and I come.
“Did you know Ulla was here?” I ask suddenly, quietly, catching Klaus’s gaze before he shakes his head. “I don’t trust this at all, Klaus.”
“Me either. Mother’s been borderline delusional, sending me all over the world trying to broker deals with people. I had a shot caller in Brazil hold a gun to my head and ask if Hans was the one that raped and beat his wife 12 years ago. Before Hans even found his way outside the city limits,” Klaus reveals with a shudder, and disdain stains my chest black. “And Ulla . . . I feel for her. I despise her, but Jesus fucking Christ, if Mother doesn’t have her claws in her. I’ve offered to take her away, but she just keeps saying she can’t. When I’m home, I hear Ulla at night muttering about what her baby would look like and other troubling things.”
“I find it hard to believe it was accidental,” I state, but Klaus shakes his head.
“Even if it wasn’t, it doesn’t matter. Her mind is either shattered by grief or guilt. Which is it? I can’t say,” Klaus pauses to cast a cautious look at the bathroom door briefly. “But both of them are going down a dangerous path, and I only agreed to this desperate plan to find a safe haven for myself. Unfortunately . . . I’ve yet to find anyone that’s been open to hearing me out, let alone sheltering me. It’s disgusting, this feeling.”
“Why do you think I built this hotel here in London? It’s neutral territory, and I changed my last name,” I say before hearing the toilet flush, and I clear my throat roughly. “We’ll discuss it soon, Klaus.”
In years past, my mother has always been the one in charge of the family businesses. She may not have gone about the proper way to do things, but shit got done, and for the most part, we were safe. Now that she’s fucked up in this major way with the Irish, it’s not just her who has a bullseye on her back.
At any moment someone can come for my brother or me. They can come for my hotel. Our entire lives can be destroyed piece by piece because my mother refuses to accept the fact that she played the hand dealt to her, and she lost. I don’t know what she has in her plans, but I know if Klaus or I can’t convince her to give up this foolishness, we’re all going to be served death sentences.
CHAPTER6
DELANEY
Iwander the vaguely familiar halls of the in-patient facility I’d spent four months in and hug myself tightly. Somehow, I don’t like being here. This sensation that I’ve taken a step backward grips me in a vice, making it hard to move. And yet, I manage to put one foot in front of the other toward a familiar, pale green door at the end of the hall.
Rapping on the barrier, I almost wish the therapist doesn’t answer. Hopefully, she’s out, but maybe not? I hold my breath as my heart races, but I can’t hear my blood drumming in my ears. No, I can only strain to listen before a muffled, feminine voice reaches me from beyond the door. Gulping harshly, I grip the door handle and shiver at how cold it is.
“Hello?” I ask cautiously, and Jen smiles brightly as she stands up from behind her desk. I shut the door behind me, leaning against it to cross my arms over my chest protectively once again. “How’re you doing? It’s been a while.”
“It’s been almost five months, yes. I’m glad you called and asked to come back, Delaney. Sit, sit.” She ushers with a wag of her hand, and my knees pop in protest. Wandering over the sofa, my lungs and muscles scream as fire races through me. The room is frigid, and I clear my throat and smooth my jeans over my thighs absently. “I heard you’re doing fantastically in London. Your therapist there hasn’t told me much, of course, but you did allow communication between us, so I’ve kept up to date on your progress. You’ve cut down from 2 days a week to 1?”
“I did, but I might go back,” I answer, and Jen’s eyes glisten with curiosity. Averting my gaze, regret clogs my throat. “I don’t know why I came here instead of going to her. I like her. She gives me good advice.”
“But you felt the need to come all the way back to Switzerland, a safe, familiar place not in London,” Jen says, and I duck my head in a nod. “Why, Delaney? Is there something in London you need distance from?”
“I . . . met a man. The night I flew back. Actually, he came up to me in the airport,” I reveal, and Jen turns to face me fully. The weight of her attention is suffocating, and I wheeze a harsh breath. “I’m not sure. It all just happened, and now . . . I found out about a week ago that I’m . . . p-pregnant.”
A surprised silence rings in my ears before Jen takes a breath and shatters it. Frowning sadly down into my lap, I curl and uncurl my fingers, rubbing the tips together. “I’m scared, Jen.”
“Oh, Delaney,” she says, a strange but understanding tone coloring her voice. Jen’s not disappointed, but she’s . . . less than enthused. As am I. I can barely lift my head under the weight of her gaze and my own emotions threatening to suck me down into the abyss. “I can see why you’d want to come here, then. Remove yourself from the situation, and you might gain some perspective you can’t get in London. Did you want to tell me about him? Or we can just sit here for a while. Whatever you feel comfortable with.”
“His name is Baron, and h-he’s also . . . my boss?” I cringe openly, clenching my sweating palms in my shirt. Forcing myself to breathe shallow, hot breaths, I lick my lips nervously. “I don’t understand how this happened? H-he hired me, and I’ve done it. I did a good job. N-no, I excelled. I excelled. But this—this feeling . . . it’s been so long . . . since I felt like—like I’m not just some creature to be pitied. Like I’m a stray dog that people feel the need to give handouts to. Baron, he has never offered me anything like that. Like my flat. Like my monthly allowance? I didn’t ask for those things!”
“Delaney,” Jen says, her voice soft and soothing, and I clutch at my chest as my heart threatens to burst out. Fuck, it hurts. My face grows hot, and my breaths are harsh and nothing more than faint wheezes. “Delaney, you’re in a safe space here. Just breathe. In through your nose, and hold it—1, 2, 3, and exhale through your mouth.”
She keeps repeating the instructions, and a horrible headache erupts behind my eyes. Laying down on my back, I fling out my arms in a futile effort to give myself more space. The walls are closing in on me, and I roll into the back cushions to cover my head with my arms. Whimpering a strangled sound, I pull up my knees to my chest. The roaring in my ears drowns out Jen’s monotone, soft words, but I can still feel them rolling over me in waves.
“I c-can’t do this!” I wail in dismay. My voice rubs my throat raw. “No, no, no! I can’t give people more reason to look at me like—like I’m broke! Ev-everyone knows . . . everyone knows, and I c-can’t take it anymore!”
That’s right . . . everyone knows. And somehow, I’d only told two people. Bran . . . would never tell. I asked him not to, and he would never break my trust. And Baron, well, Baron was the last person to hear about it.
So how . . . did my rape suddenly make the front-page news?
“Argh!” The guttural, angry shriek that escapes me breaks my trance. Jerking up, I look around wildly before realizing that sound . . . came from me. Grimacing as hot tears stream down my face, I sniffle harshly while Jen just continues to watch me. Grabbing a tissue off the small end table, my grimace deepens when it nearly dissolves under the torrent from my eyes. “Fuck.”
I grab the box, reaching inside to take out a handful. Glancing at Jen, shame mingles with the intense maelstrom of emotions swirling in my chest.
