Page 8 of Ruthless Claim

Emma winces at that reminder but continues on. “My point is that he’s,” she searches for the word, “defensive. The worst version of himself when he’s cornered. He’s always been like that. He’d rather bite than show you he’s scared.” She pauses, as if realizing she made an error. “Not that I’m suggesting he’s scared of you. But he’s also not not⁠—”

“Emma,” I say impatiently, crossing my arms across my chest.

She holds up her hands placatingly. “I’m just saying. Under the insufferable exterior there is a person. I’ve met him. He’s still in there somewhere.” She looks at me warmly. “Give it time.”

I stare at her. “He told me I was a spoiled child throwing a tantrum.”

Emma winces then bites her lip. “Okay, that’s—” She pauses then sighs heavily, shaking her head. “Well, that was shitty of him.”

Finally. “Thank you,” I tell her, pleased that she also sees it the same way I do.

“He really can be terrible,” she admits, a fond smile on her face along with a touch exasperated. It only makes sense if you’ve loved someone since childhood and had that love thoroughly complicated by circumstance. “It’s almost impressive.”

“It’s a talent,” I say bitterly. “A genuine gift.”

Emma laughs, the warm full sound she has when something actually gets her, and I feel my own mouth twitch despite everything.

The laugh is contagious and always has been.

It’s one of the things Leo fell in love with first, I’m pretty sure.

“Give it time,” Emma says again, softer. “I know you don’t want to hear that. But—” She touches my arm briefly. “Leo looked at me the same way, like I was a problem he had to deal with.”

“Leo kidnapped you,” I remind her. “There was passion underneath the terrible decisions. Cillian married me because Connor issued an instruction and Cillian—Emma, he doesn’t even push back. He just does it. Whatever Connor wants. He doesn’t—” I stop.

Emma is quiet for a moment. “You don’t know why he does that,” she says carefully. “What it costs him. What the alternative looks like from where he’s standing.”

I look at her in disbelief. Why is she playing both sides? “You’re defending him,” I say, unable to hide the hurt in my voice.

“I’m—” She pauses, trying to carefully choose her words. “I’m saying there are things you don’t know yet.” She turns back to the mirror and smooths her dress over her stomach. “I’m not saying he’s not being horrible. He absolutely is. All I’m saying is people are usually horrible for a reason.”

Cillian watching Emma for that second before his expression shuttered crosses my mind, along with a version of him that Emma remembers from childhood.

He was someone who was Emma’s favorite, and I think about what it must cost to be who he is now.

Then I remind myself that he called me a spoiled child throwing a tantrum and I feel considerably less charitable.

“I’m not you,” I tell her not unkindly. “I’m not going to—I’m not going to develop feelings because we’re trapped together.”

“Of course not,” Emma agrees, too quickly, mind you. It sounds like she doesn’t believe me at all but is choosing to be nice about it.

I scowl at her. “I mean it.”

“I know you do,” she says, just as serenely.

My scowl sharpens. “Emma.”

She gives me her most innocent look I have ever seen. “I’m just agreeing with you.”

“You’re doing the thing where you agree with me and mean the opposite.”

“I’m ten million years pregnant,” she sighs, “I don’t have the energy for subtext.” She tugs at my arm. “Come on. Leo’s going to come looking for me if I’m gone too long.”

She starts for the door, then pauses with her hand on it, turning back. “Val. For whatever it’s worth—you’re the strongest person I know, outside of Leo. Whatever this looks like right now—” She glances briefly at the door, in the direction of the ballroom as if she can see her parents. “You’ll survive it. And so will I.”

There’s a weight underneath those words that has nothing to do with me, and the anger on her behalf burns clean and bright for a moment before I swallow it back down.

“I know,” I say.