Page 4 of Ruthless Claim

He refused to come to her wedding and forbade the Brennans to come.

Most listened, but a few brave ones decided to show up, including Emma’s mother, Teresa, which shocked the hell out of me as I thought Teresa Brennan didn’t even breathe without Connor’s approval.

I really thought Teresa showing up to the wedding meant she finally grew some balls, but the fact that she’s sitting alone at a table while her daughter is feet away speaks volumes about the grip Connor has on her.

God, Connor is such a fucking asshole.

He’s estranged from his very pregnant only child, and instead of being upset about it he’s standing at the bar making conversation about god knows what with a smile on his face.

But he’s here for this fucking farce of a wedding.

He is attending and smiling and playing the gracious patriarch of this alliance, because this wedding benefits him and it was his idea.

This wedding serves Connor Brennan’s interests, therefore Connor Brennan is present for it.

I look at Emma again.

She hasn’t glanced at her father once, whether that’s because she’s made peace with it or because looking at him hurts too much to do in public, I don’t know.

Probably both.

Emma is better at surviving painful things than almost anyone I know, which makes sense given that she’s had a lot of practice.

I find Cillian in the crowd.

He’s standing with a group of Brennan men near the entrance, and I watch his eyes go to Emma for just a moment.

There’s a moment where his face twists with an unfamiliar expression, but then it’s gone and he’s back to his careful blankness.

Emma said he was her favorite cousin before everything fell apart. I think about that.

He hasn’t even talked to Emma today, and, from what Emma’s said, the last time he spoke to her was when he crashed her and Leo’s wedding.

Anger bubbles in me again.

How can he ignore his favorite cousin and seemingly accept that she’ll raise a baby without her own father’s acknowledgment?

Then I remember that Cillian is also doing what Connor asked.

That he is here, performing this, because Connor told him to.

Whatever complicated feelings he might have about Emma and Connor, they weren’t complicated enough to make him say no.

The hot thing in my chest cools into something that is simply contempt, and I feel better for it.

I am shown to my seat at the head table and Cillian materializes beside me like a very tall, very irritating shadow.

We sit down together at our own wedding reception, and it’s the most uncomfortable I have been in years.

This even beats the bad date I had a few years ago where my date decided to serenade me at a karaoke bar.

Cillian doesn’t speak to me. Instead, he sits there, cutting his food with precise cuts, nodding occasionally when guests come to offer congratulations.

He does this for the entire salad course without a single word in my direction.

This would be a mercy except that I can feel him beside me and the silence feels like the quiet before something goes wrong.

I’m halfway through my salad when he says, without looking at me, “Try smiling more. You look like you’re at a funeral.”