Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
He kept going. “Truth be told, I’m surprised she got through her teen years without my mom sending her off to a convent. I think the subject was actually on the table for a while.”
The obvious love he held for his little sister made her smile even as her heart ached a little. “Your family is very Catholic, aren’t they?”
“The most Catholic. My oldest sister actually put off the whole marriage conversation for years because she pretended that she was seriously considering becoming a nun. I think my father was so supportive because he figured that a nun in the family might somehow balance out our karma.”
Unless she’d gotten her facts confused about his siblings, that would be the sister who was supposed to marry Dmitri. “I didn’t think Catholics believed in karma.”
“Karma. The Golden Rule. Tomato-tomahto.” He shrugged. “But, yeah, Keira was a holy terror. Hell, she still is.” Something crossed his face that she had no name for. “She used to want to go to art school. She’s an amazing painter, though I’ve seen her do things with crayons that would blow you away. It seems like anything she gets her hands on, she turns into these stunning pieces that don’t look like anything, but somehow you can stare at one and it dawns on you that you’re seeing joy, or happiness, or some other emotion.”
He couldn’t have sounded prouder, but she frowned. “Used to?”
“She was supposed to start school last fall, but she dropped out of all her classes.”
“You’re worried about her.” It shouldn’t be such a novel thing—he was her brother, so of course he was worried about her—but it kind of blew Olivia’s mind. Dmitri didn’t care about her mental health as long as she was doing what he wanted. What would it have been like if he was a brother more like Cillian?
I never would have left New York. It would be me and him against the world.
But that wasn’t her reality.
Cillian shrugged. “I’m hoping it’s a phase she’s going through. Keira’s always been one to take her own path—and tell anyone who doesn’t like it where they can stick it.”
There was something he wasn’t saying. “But?”
“But after our brother died…” He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “It changed all of us.”
She couldn’t begin to imagine. She reached over and touched his arm. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He put his hand over hers, his gaze a million miles away. “No, actually it’s not. He was a good kid. My brother Teague used to say Devlin was the best of us all, and he wasn’t wrong. He was brilliant and sweet without being a pushover, and he had the world at his feet.”
She squeezed his arm. “We don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want to.”
“It’s just…this life has costs. Growing up, I knew that—we all knew that. Some of my siblings fought against it, but I always found it kind of comforting to know exactly what my future held. I was a cocky little shit, to be honest. And then one night it all went sideways. Everything changed and nothing at all changed, and sometimes wrapping my mind around that is damn near impossible.”
He looked at her, his dark eyes stark. “The world should change if someone like my brother dies. It should mourn and cry, and the face of it should be altered. Except none of that happened. It kept on spinning and we were expected to do the same. So we’re all in our private little hells and no one talks to anyone else and it’s just this giant clusterfuck that I’m sure a shrink would have a heyday with.”
There was nothing she could say to heal the pain lurking inside him. Hell, even if there was some easy fix, he was right—it took away from his brother’s death to just slap a Band-Aid on it and keep moving like nothing had happened. Even Andrei’s death had affected her, so she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to go through the death of someone she actually loved.
Hadley chose that moment to plop down and start wailing, preventing her from having the chance to figure out what the right thing to say was. Olivia checked the clock on the wall behind her—sure enough, bedtime was fast approaching. “Duty calls. Give me a few?”
“Of course. Take as long as you need.”
* * *
Cillian could really use a cigarette. Or a beer. Or both. It didn’t matter that he’d quit smoking right around the time he’d quit drinking. Night finished falling as he waited for Olivia, but the peace he’d glimpsed when he’d first stepped out of the car was nowhere to be found. Too many things circled around in his head. He had to tell his family where he was. And he had to tell them about Olivia and her connection to Romanov. It was a risk, and they needed to be aware of it.