“Absolutely not. Out of the question.”
“It’s already done, Braden. She’s here, and if anyone tries to remove her from the premises, they will be met with swift and deadly force.”
He watched the threat land, watched a man he loved like his own family pale, horror filling his eyes as he realized, truly realized the kind of man Killian O’Rourke really was.
“You wouldn’t.”
Leaning forward, Killian braced his elbows on his knees, his hands steepled together as he locked gazes with his child’s only living grandfather. “Aria is mine. Whether we are… together or not, is completely irrelevant as far as I’m concerned. She’s carrying my child, which makes her family. And you, as well as anyone, should know that the O’Rourkes do whatever is necessary to protect our own. I don’t want to kill you, Braden. I’ve grown rather fond of you over the years, but more importantly, it would distress Aria, and I have no desire to put her through any undue duress.”
He risked a glance at Aria, at the hatred burning in her eyes. And he knew then and there she would never forgive him for what he’d just done.
No matter. Let her hate him. Let them both hate him. As long as she was safe.
A soft clanging caught his attention, and he turned to find one of his staff members pushing a serving cart through the side door of his office.
Turning back to his guests, he flashed a bright smile. “Lunch is ready. I hope you both like chicken salad.”
Aria
* * *
Lying in bed that night, Aria played the events of the morning over and over in her mind.
She’d had to convince her father that she would be fine here with Killian, which had taken a strength she hadn’t known she possessed. Everything in her had been screaming at her to run, to let her father try and fight his way past Killian’s guards to rescue her and bring her home.
But she loved her father, more than anything, and in the end that love had been the deciding factor. She wouldn’t risk him, so she put on a brave face and told him she was safe here. That she would find a way to convince the dragon at the gate to release her soon.
She’d only ever seen her father cry once before, the day he’d married Lottie. And she swore then and there she would never forgive Killian O’Rourke for being the reason she’d seen him cry a second time in her life.
Not that she’d told Killian that. The second her father’s car disappeared from view, she’d turned and headed back up to her bedroom, where she’d stayed the rest of the day and into the night. She’d refused to take dinner with the family, so he’d had food sent up to her. Which she’d eaten, only because she knew she needed to keep her strength up for the baby.
Of course, she’d only kept about half of it down, but at least she’d tried.
Several sleepless hours later, though, she was hungry all over again. There was probably some way for her to ask for someone to bring her food, but after an entire afternoon tucked away in her bedroom, she was ready to gnaw at the bars of her enclosure.
And if she was carrying Killian’s child, surely that gave her some kind of pull around here, right?
Putting on her best ‘Queen of the Manor’ expression, she strode over to the bedroom door and yanked it open, not even bothering to try and be quiet about it. If Killian was a king as he’d claimed that night at the club, then she was a queen. And queens didn’t skulk about, they simply went wherever they wanted.
The guard stationed across from her door was another young kid, close to her age, possibly younger, and though he jumped slightly when the door swung open, he covered it well. “Something I can help you with, Miss Elliott?”
Queens also didn’t ask permission, they told people where they were going and people followed. “I’m going downstairs to the kitchen.”
Without giving him a chance to respond, she swept past him and toward the stairs. But when she reached the foyer, it occurred to her she didn’t actually know where the kitchen was.
Luckily, her shadow seemed eager to help. “This way, ma’am.”
“Thank you.” Falling in step beside him, she glanced up at him through her lashes. Strong jaw, like his… cousin? Uncle? Who was Killian to him?
Whatever the connection, they were clearly related. So it wasn’t the kid’s fault he’d been born into this fucked-up family. “And please just call me Aria. Ma’am makes me feel a hundred years old.”
Her guardian smiled, quick and so impossibly innocent it made her heart twist in her chest. “Aria, then. And I’m Sean.”
“Sean. How are you related to Killian?”
“It’s a bit convoluted. My ma’s his cousin twice removed or some such thing.”
Not as closely related as she’d thought. Man those O’Rourke genes must be powerful.
