The machine beeped in a methodic symphony around me, surrounding my sleeping existence with a constant reminder that my mind continued to fight. It was silent but for the machine and occasional depressing sound of a quiet nurse or doctor entering just to check vitals, never staying long enough to check the rest of me. Nobody bothered to examine my heart, to check my soul. Nobody cared. With the exception of Emma and Elliott on one occasion, I had no visitors. In how long? I couldn’t remember. My body ached, but not with the excruciating burn surrounding my heart. My eyes were covered with a band of gauze that gifted my sight with the opportunity to forget color, to forget life. In the darkness, I could only think.
“Psst,” a low voice whispered from somewhere in the room. It snapped me from a stupor, the soft rumble of his voice responsible for my heart monitor reacting with an extra beep after each crest.
“I hope I’m not waking you,” he continued, his voice closer, “but I saw that man in here before. How do you know him?” And then there was silence. I must have fallen asleep. Can someone see me? Am I still here? Can someone hear me? Is the machine still on?
“Keep still,” the voice returned, its soft hum reflected in the increased pitch of my heart monitor. Keep still? From what? Why? What’s happening? My nostrils flared, rattling with need for air, desire to inhale the comforting new smell that hovered around me like a lazy cloud. My eyes fluttered open, free of gauze and too blurry to comprehend, only seeing shadows dance within the darkness. I’m still in the hospital. I’m still here.
“Hush,” his voice returned, warm fingers tickling against my forehead. “Someone is going to come in here, and you need to pretend to sleep. Keep still.”
“Wh—” My throat closed, air sticking just above my lungs, unable to produce another sound. I looked around frantically, my eyes refusing to clear as his finger pressed against my mouth. His touch was delicate, almost polite.
“I’ve got you. You’re safe. I’ll keep you.” His lips almost touched my left ear as he whispered. I should have screamed or fought, but my heart resisted. It waited, my body still, while his words repeated into my ear.
“I’ve got you. You’re safe. I’ll keep you this way.”
No. I woke with a throbbing headache, unable to focus on anything but my closed eyelids. It was excruciating, numbing each individual cell of my brain. My left hand covered my mouth, the feeling of impending vomit shooting through my nerves. False alarm. Or, should I say, faux alarm. The banging was debilitating. A violently sharp piercing sensation twisted my brain with each pump of my heart. Opening my eyes was impossible. I needed water and something to subdue the pain so I could attempt to breathe once more, but I hadn’t packed my prescription, and water required I leave my room. My room. Ah! No. This is not my room. Whatever. This bed is like a damn cloud.
I needed something strong, something that would temporarily put me out of my misery so I could continue avoiding those idiots and return to the covers of my absurdly comfortable bed. Something strong. One pill. I needed the pill in Julian’s bathroom that he left for me a few days ago. But it was in Julian’s bathroom, and it was probably a trap. I didn’t care at that moment; the pain took over all sense of caring about how much I disliked Julian and the way he, alone, could kiss my pain into oblivion. Aideen. Shut up.
Knowing where my mission would lead, I tumbled from the bed and crashed against the plush rug. I was on my hands and knees, forcing my lungs to inhale to subdue the desire to vomit. I can crawl there. That’s fine. Less chance of being caught by Maureen. I can do this stealthily, and I don’t even need a gun. I’m better than these people.
I squinted just enough to see my path and crawled out of the bedroom, opening the door with shaking fingertips to reveal the lonely hallway. The only light trickling in from the kitchen doorway was ice adhered to the windows reflecting moonlight. It’s night. How long had I been sleeping? I crawled a few feet into the hallway, glancing up at the living room doorway. The hypnotizing glow of the television flashed its attendance with a low volume, signaling someone was in there. Scurrying past the living room with my breath held exacerbated the pounding. I was almost to Julian’s bedroom door when I heard a muffled snore coming from the living room. Oh, thank God. He’s sleeping in there. Yes! This means he isn’t in his room! I can stand. I can go in there and get his pill.
With one hand on my head, I stood and pressed my other hand around his doorknob, slowly turning. I was immediately bombarded with the warming scent of his cologne, gently easing the intolerable pain in my head. It was black; nothing was visible. I left his door open, hoping moonlight and the flashing television would illuminate some sort of path. I tiptoed against the hardwood floor of his bedroom, distractedly marveling at how the burning in my neck began to thaw. I was too distracted. I walked right into his bathroom door.
“Shit,” I snapped in a whisper, clutching my forehead, rubbing a pain now caused by me and nobody else.
“Aideen?” Julian’s voice broke from sleep, the shuffling of his covers quickly following. God dammit! He is in here! He was asleep in his bed. Then who the hell is in the living room? I can’t catch a break. I can’t. Oh my God. Not ready for this. My head. No. Why me? What do I do?
“I just…pain pill.”
“What?” The sound of his voice was closer to me, crackling from interrupted slumber. I heard him approach in the darkness, my lungs inhaling the cologne that lingered around Julian like a delicious halo.
“Head. Pill.”
“Your head? What happened? Yeah…of course.” Julian struggled to get out a coherent sentence. My body spread with wildfire goose bumps as his hand tentatively found my arm in the poorly lit space, burning my skin with the warmth of his palm.
I flinched, pulling back my arm and returning my hand to my forehead. The burning subsided almost completely, but the ache was ever-present, reminding me that even the strongest of wizards couldn’t completely destroy remnants of villains.
Julian’s sigh was a whisper while he stepped away, the soft sound of his padding feet joining the shuffle of drawers in his bathroom. “Come in here. Please.”
A small light emitted from the outlet above his sink, dimly illuminating the bathroom when I entered. Julian stood, filling a small glass with water. My gaze followed his hand, trailing along his arm, my breath hitching when I realized he was without a shirt. Again.
“I just need that pill and I’ll be on my way. Thank you,” I remarked, my cheeks burning. I didn’t know why I felt so angry toward Julian after what happened between us earlier. Maybe it was because what happened was a real memory, a legitimate fact that me wanting to punch his pretty face turned into me licking his pretty face. It wasn’t like my nightmares. Swallowing the lump of nervous reflection, I accepted the glass Julian raised for me. His other hand held a small white pill. At this point, I didn’t care what it was. It could have killed me, but it brought comfort knowing I would at least be asleep when it kicked in.
“It’s a strong narcotic,” he warned, his hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Be careful. It won’t hurt you. It will help you.”
I looked up at him, our focus clear as our eyes adjusted to the blackness. Julian attempted to touch me again, his palm curling around my shoulder, my body unwillingly leaning into his hold. Nope. Remember, you’re going to leave a pattern of sapphires against his face. I pulled away, my heart battling the burn inside my stomach.
“Aideen, why won’t you let me touch you?”
“You frighten me,” I admitted, slapping my mind for blurting out the truth and giving Julian that power over me. “You won’t tell me anything, and you won’t let me go. I’m afraid of you.”
“You should be, but you’re smarter than that, Aideen. Your heart,” the rat placed his hand against my collarbone, unfolding his palm atop my pounding heart, “knows better than that.”
“Please don’t.”
Julian sighed, removing his hand before leaning his face against mine. “Aideen, you know I’ll keep you safe. Just trust me right now. I’ve got you. As long as you’re here, you’re safe. I’ll keep you that way.” Those words. Those same words. Where had I…why did they…they’re so familiar.
“As long as I’m here,” I repeated, “I’m living in fear.” I swallowed the pill, chugging the water in one massive gulp before slamming the glass against Julian’s countertop. Pacing through the darkness and leaving Julian to stand alone, half-naked in his bathroom, I returned to the hallway. Both of my hands covered my mouth, pushing against the threatening sob.
“Miss Leary?” Liam called from the kitchen doorway, his silhouette illuminated in a halo of light from Julian’s fridge. Shit. Not another one.
“Are you hungry?” he questioned, stepping toward me. There was nowhere to run.
“Are you naked?” I bluntly inquired, knowing my heart could not handle another questionably clothed Molloy. Liam’s laugh was infectious, a slow, pleasant rumble that hypnotized my ears, beckoning my body toward him.
“I can be, if that’s what you so desire,” he teased, “but, alas, Julian doesn’t allow me to live so comfortably when I stay here. As you can see: sweatpants, undershirt. I’m sorry.” Liam pointed to his clothing, pouting ruefully as he placed his hand against my back and guided me into the kitchen. His touch wasn’t as startling, so I let his hand rest there. It was like our time in Julian’s bathroom, his touch a simple gesture of comfort and reassurance. Okay, you’ve lost it. I wiggled from him, my body heavy with the absence.
“You don’t like to be touched, do you?”
“Not by you people.”
He feigned upset, his jaw gaping while he clicked a switch next to Julian’s sink. “I’m offended. Us people. And what type of people are we? And who is we?”
“You, your brother, and your sister. Everyone’s touching me, and I’ve had enough, sir.” I stood with my arms bound around my chest, defensive toward any approach from Liam.
“First of all…” Liam stepped toward me after turning on the soft light beneath the cabinets, and pulling out two chairs, motioning for me to sit. “Please don’t ever call me that. Second, I didn’t know the three of us touched you. Might I ask, whose touch was the best?” Liam’s smile filled his face with an infectious glow. It radiated onto me, allowing my own depressed pout to stretch in humor. I think I hate him the least.
“I guess.” I shrugged, knowing I treaded dangerous ground, but my heart wouldn’t stop. “Yours, but probably because you’re not forcing me to do things like your siblings. Your brother is keeping me captive, and your sister bought me an entire wardrobe, plus a ring that cost more than I make in a month alone.”
“Mine it is then.” He winked at me, continuing to beam a delirious grin. “Perfect.”
“I didn’t say I enjoyed it,” I snapped. “I dislike all three of you the same.”
“You do have a smart mouth.” Liam laughed, the sound swirling around my mind as it quickly calmed from Julian’s pill…and Julian. “Sit with me for a while. We’re obviously both insomniacs. It’ll be nice to share this time with someone for a change.”
“Don’t you have your own home?” I sat, less reluctantly than I thought, and watched Liam join in the seat across from me. Liam chuckled, giving little response other than his blue eyes examining my face while his stretched into a smile.
“Where did you and your brother go tonight?” I blurted. It was worth a shot. I couldn’t imagine the worst thing Liam doing to me being more awful than I imagined the infinite ways Julian would end me.
“Nosy bird.” He grinned, his head shaking playfully. “Work.” He reached across the table to the bowl of fruit, his fingers wrapping around a plump, bright apple. Liam rubbed it against his bicep before taking a bite, his immaculate teeth snapping through its flesh.
“Grandsons of the senate, hard at work all evening, saving the city,” I probed sarcastically, “and how much do my tax dollars pay you to roam around doing whatever work it is that you do?”
“Your taxes don’t pay my salary, so you don’t need to know how much I make or how I make it, ma’am.” His eyebrows raised playfully, challenging my question. “I’m on to you, Miss Leary.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I groaned, a small rumble of laughter leaving my lips. “My name is Aideen. Ai-deen. Use it. I beg of you.”
“Oh, boy.” Liam leaned back in his chair, taking another bite of his apple. “Julian won’t be happy to know I got you to beg first.” First? Buying time to work through the rush of nerves flowing through my blood, I looked at Liam’s arms. Like his brother, Liam’s skin was painted with memories of events and experiences. He also shared a tattoo for their mother, a large cursive ‘D’ on the inside of his wrist. The canvas of his skin was rather empty, leaving plenty of space for future art, but as Liam’s arm rotated while he rolled the apple in his palm, I noticed the same Celtic cross. It was smaller than Julian’s, barely above his forearm in a dark blue ink to match his eyes.
“Are you religious, Aideen?” Liam inquired, his left palm covering the fold of his right, aware that my wheels began to spin.
“No.”
“Me either.” He shrugged. “It’s a family thing. The cross…” He paused, placing the apple core on the table. “They’re strict Catholics during the daytime. Julian and me? We’re slightly more…progressive.”
“Ha,” I scoffed, the humor slipping freely from my lips. “Progressive? Hi, Aideen, nice to meet you. Your brother is trying to destroy my life, and nobody is telling me the real reason why. It’s the twenty-first century. You’re far from progressive if this is how you handle your business.”
“And what business is that, sweet Aideen?” Liam leaned back, his lips spreading into a mischievous smile. His hands folded across his toned abdomen, fingers intertwined while he awaited my reply.
“Politics, of course,” I said, aware my response was far from the truth. Liam nodded, his smile maintained against his chiseled face.
“You’re quite intelligent,” he commented. “Smart girl, smart mouth. You suit our family well.”
“I’m not in your family. Won’t ever be.”
Liam laughed, leaning forward in the chair. “We all make promises we don’t keep.”
I’m going to kill him first. I take it all back. He is the worst. Stupid, charming, arrogant. He has really nice forearms, though. Like, really nice.
“Can you tell me why I’m here? I get that Malcolm Young wants me dead, but what’s it to your brother? And why this farce?”
Liam pushed his chair out from under the table, surely delaying on purpose, and opened the refrigerator. His left hand clung to the door while his body disappeared, returning within five seconds with two bottles of chilled sparkling water.
“Stay hydrated.” He handed me one bottle after removing the cap. “Boston winters can be a bitch to the skin.”
“I see delaying information and keeping secrets is a family trait.” I accepted the bottle, reveling in the delicious tickle of bubbles against my tongue. Liam laughed, the warm sound echoing in the kitchen, while returning to his seat and swallowing a large gulp of the water. Liam’s hair was slightly longer than Julian’s, an adorable messy mop of brown hair scattered around his head. Adorable? I need help. Don’t fight it. Here I go, arguing with my subconscious. I really need help.
“What do you want to know, Aideen?” Liam looked at me, his eyes focused and deliberate. His stare deepened, informing me the flirtatious game ceased. I prepared myself to inquire further into the mysteries of why I was at Julian’s house, this time with a bedroom all to myself.
“Let’s start with where you went last night,” I demanded, my voice smaller than I would have liked.
“I don’t think Julian would like you to know that much yet.” He shrugged. “What else?”
“It must be a big secret if you can’t even tell his faux girlfriend.” I narrowed my eyes at Liam, earning a nod in reply, but he remained mute so I pressed further. “Tell me your connection to Malcolm Young.”
Liam’s pupils dilated, his jaw tense. He looked so much like his older brother that my mind faded slightly, pretending it was Julian who was so rueful with me.
“Malcolm Young is a slimy, good for nothing scoundrel, whose main objective in this world is to steal, lie, pillage, and destroy.”
“Those are four objectives,” I clarified, my fingers tapping against the tabletop.
Liam’s lips flirted with a smile while he replied, “That mouth. You know, you’re lucky I find you so adorable, Aideen, or you wouldn’t have made it this far.”
“That’s another thing.” I shook my head. “You and your brother are always warning me that I would’ve been, could’ve been, or should’ve been killed, and yet neither of you have killed me. Go on. Do it. I really don’t care. What gives you the authority to throw around that sort of threat?”
“It’s not what, but who.” Liam’s eyes relaxed from the smile previously spread along his face. “And that is something…back to Malcolm. What do you know? You know he and his cousin, your supposed friend, are dirt bags getting into it in Southie? You know that they wanted to kill you to tap out your inheritance? Julian’s told you all of this, I hope, otherwise I might be the dead one come morning.” This could be fun, but it’s more important that I get the story straight.
“He told me that,” I replied, tightening my hold around my body, stabilizing myself beneath Liam’s penetrating stare. He nodded.
“His family and our family…they don’t exactly see eye to eye on some things. He doesn’t come from a reputable breed.”
“Breed? Like you people are AKC registered? God, you’re obnoxious.” I felt my body relax, calming with Liam’s lack of physical dominance. He was lenient, divulging details in an actual conversation, and technically he never threatened my life before our conversation. Unless he was killing me by looking so gorgeous in his pajamas. Liam’s grin returned, his head shaking slightly while he laughed.
“You’re cute, Aideen.” His chuckle was soft. “I like you a lot.”
“Great.” My eyes rolled, mocking him. “Let’s be best friends.”
“That sounds like a wonderful plan, actually. Best friends tell each other secrets, right? They do that sort of stuff?”
I narrowed my eyes, studying Liam suspiciously as he grinned. “Depends on what secrets, I suppose. If you’re about to tell me who you killed last night, I don’t want the burden of that secret. If it’s that you finished you brother’s wine, then you better have kept a bottle for me.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” he sighed. “You’re too funny for Julian. He’s so tightly wound and overprotective. Want to know a secret?” Liam stood from the kitchen table, my body mindlessly mirroring his posture. His hands fell atop my shoulders while he studied my face, his gaze stopping at my eyes.
“You’re a smart girl, Aideen. Do the research. It will surely tell you more than Julian,” Liam whispered in my ear. He spun away, my shoulders shivering with the loss of touch, and walked toward the kitchen sink while still mumbling something. I couldn’t hear Liam; my mind was distracted by the familiar heightened sense of goose bumps that trailed along my neck.
“What’s going on?” Julian interrupted, his right hand rubbing sleep from his faded eyes. What do I do?
“Sorry if we woke you, Julian.” Liam turned from the sink, drying his hands with a small towel. “Turns out we had difficulty sleeping tonight.”
Julian’s hand spread delicately along my shoulder, barely even a touch, and my body reacted as though he suffocated me. It was pressure, weight, and tension, all with the heady feeling of excitement that tickled around my heart.
“I’ll walk you back to your room,” Julian whispered, his voice raspier than normal. My gaze wandered to Liam, who bit his bottom lip, smiling at me.
“Goodnight, nosy bird.” Liam winked before Julian spun my body toward the hallway. I hadn’t finished my conversation with Liam. I wanted to know so much more, but our host interrupted. I think I was more upset that I enjoyed Liam’s company and Julian took it from me, from us. Us. Just stop this already. I stepped ahead, no longer wanting Julian’s hand on my body. As we approached the door, I reached for the knob, but Julian grabbed my hand.
“Aideen,” his whisper was nearly inaudible, “relax.”
“I can’t around you.”
He sighed, almost pained. “I wish I could change that.”
Julian turned the knob while his palm spread over my hand, and we entered the room. It was as I left it: a disheveled bed, a closet full of designer clothes, and a terribly expensive sapphire ring sparkling in the moonlight atop the dresser. He followed me inside, his weight pressing against the corner of the mattress. He’s clearly not in a hurry to leave. Lovely. But with that vision, with the mere thought of Julian near my bed, my mind went right back to the moment we kissed in his living room. It was…beautiful. That frightened me.
“You’re thinking about it too,” he whispered, his head lifting to watch me. I looked at him, unable to describe how I felt. I couldn’t mutter the thought in my own mind. I was angry at him, angry at me, disgusted with myself, but in awe of the way his hands and mouth felt. I was tired of fighting the way my stomach hummed whenever he entered a room. I was exhausted with his authority and omissions. My heart was in limbo. I couldn’t trust Julian Molloy. Or Liam.
I mounted the bed, crawling toward the pillows against the headrest and nestling against them while watching Julian in the soft moonlight. I can’t look at him. It will make me feel things, question things, and my heart…that thing will surely suffer. It’s fake, babby.
“You and Liam have the same tattoo,” I mentioned, staring at the comforter while he remained motionless at the foot of my bed, his elbows resting against his knees as we struggled to avoid each other’s sight.
“Just ask, Aideen.” His tone was curt, but forgiving. Julian sounded exhausted, uncharacteristically drained.
“What does it mean?” I froze when I caught the stare of his faded gaze; it was lonely, so vacant. Julian inhaled, biting his top lip once the air slowly released from his lungs. His body shifted, turning so his right leg was lifted onto the mattress and he could face me. Oh, shit. We’re actually going to talk. My heart thumped so viciously within my chest that I could barely breathe.
“It’s something the men in my family have had for generations to show we belong,” his throat cleared, the volume of his voice shifting down an octave, “to our family.”
“The Molloy last name on your birth certificate isn’t enough?”
Julian’s head slowly shook, his eyes unmoving. He would have threatened to use his gag with a comment like that. This shit is serious. Christ, Aideen. ALL this shit is serious.
“It’s more than that. I can’t tell you until you already know, but I know you have an idea. Just say it,” he demanded, his voice still a gentle, tired murmur. What did I have an idea about? His gun? His wealth? His rope? The damn sapphire ring on the dresser?
“Usually politicians, and those in line to be one, don’t carry around guns. They hire protective detail for that, which you have, but you also insist on using yours to intimidate people…and…you have—”
“Yes, babby,” Julian groaned, but it wasn’t malicious, “I killed the psychopath who broke into your home to murder you. I’m going for my seventh tattoo tomorrow. It’ll be an honorable kill because I saved your life. I saved you, Aideen, and you have lacked all grace in your form of appreciation. You called me that day. You didn’t call the police; you called me. Doesn’t that mean a dammed thing to you?” He cursed. It was overwhelmingly intimidating to watch Julian’s eyes melt, pleading, while his words stung like acid.
“Why did he come to kill me?”
“Because you’re my girlfriend,” he muttered, his voice muffled as he rubbed both palms against his mouth. “I can’t imagine who would want to kill you. Can you? Any idea, babby?”
“Malcolm.” Girlfriend. Not in here, mister. Oh, he meant to the outside world. Right.
“Precisely.” Julian’s gaze returned to mine. “So do us all a favor and just be for a while, Aideen. Let me figure this all out so I can finally give you the answers you deserve. In the meantime, show some appreciation for fuck’s sake.”