Chapter Twenty-One
Sasha
It’s the day before Mack’s wedding, and I’ve spent the entire week packing up the apartment and helping her with wedding things.
It’s not going to be a big event. Mack says she doesn’t see the point in going overboard on everything. That’s just part of the reason why I love the girl. I haven’t spoken to Ronan or Lachlan since the day of Ma’s burial. And that’s honestly the way I prefer it.
So when Lachlan’s name flashes across the caller ID of my phone, I debate on ignoring it. But then I think maybe they need me to help with something else for the wedding, and my guilt gets the better of me. So I answer it.
“Sasha,” Lachlan’s voice filters through the phone. “Are you there?”
“Yes.”
“Look, Kaya twisted her ankle. She’s going to be out for a couple of weeks. I know ye’re leaving on Monday, but we have a special event booked on Sunday and I really can’t do without another dancer.”
“I don’t know.” I bite my lip and glance around the apartment, looking for any excuse to keep me from going back to the club. I don’t want to see Ronan again. I don’t want to get sucked back in, and I’m afraid that’s exactly what will happen if I go.
After a minute of hesitation on my part, Lachlan sighs on the other end of the line. “I know ye have a lot going on right now,” he says. “But I’m getting married tomorrow, and I just need everything to go smoothly.”
“Ugh,” I groan. “You just had to play that card, didn’t you?”
He laughs, and it eases some of the tension between us from our last visit.
“Okay, fine alright,” I agree. “One last shift. That’s it though, I mean it. Come Monday morning, no matter what, I’m out of there.”
“Absolutely,” he says. “Ye’re a lifesaver, Sasha, truly. Mack and I will both be eternally grateful.”
He hangs up the phone and I flop down onto the sofa, staring at the barren apartment. Everything is in boxes now. Ma’s stuff is in storage until Emily and I can go through it and figure out how to divide it up. I’m really only planning on taking the necessities with me, especially since I don’t even know where I’m going. I decided California was off the table after my spat with Em. We both need this time apart to deal with things in our own ways.
I should be checking out places online. Applying for jobs, looking up facts and figures on Google about the best places for lonely ex-strippers to live. But I highly suspect that Google isn’t going to have the answers to those questions. And something is still holding me back.
I grew up in this city. It’s all I’ve ever known. Even with all of its wrongs, the thought of leaving it just doesn’t feel right. When I’ve spent so many years having all of my decisions made for me through circumstance, trying to make them myself is overwhelming and even a little terrifying. This is my one chance to get out. Not to screw up my life anymore. And I’ve only got one shot to get it right. It’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself.
I walk down the hall to finish packing my bedroom when I notice Ronan’s old suit jacket still hanging on the door. Haunting me, the way he always does. And I can’t look at it anymore. I can’t have any of these things in my life, causing me confusion. From now on, I’m only going to move in one direction, and it’s not backwards.
With that thought in mind, I grab the jacket from the door and stomp all the way down the hall and out the front of my apartment building. The first homeless guy I find when I round the corner is the lucky recipient of the jacket and everything it represents.
***
“You can’t tell anyone yet,” Mack whispers. “But I’m totally knocked up.”
“No way.” I glance down at her stomach, but there’s no evidence there yet. She’s glowing in her wedding dress though. I’m emotional again, and I don’t know what to say. So I hug her.
“And married too.” I tell Mack with tears in my eyes. “I can’t believe you really did it.”
“I know,” she agrees. “I’m in it for life now.”
I glance down at her hand, which still has a tiny amount of blood on it from the ceremony. Something I would have once considered strange and barbaric is now oddly sweet to me. Watching them pledge their love and devotion to each other in front of all of their friends like that. The words weren’t enough. It had to be said in blood too. Not only is that the way of the syndicate, but that’s how strongly they feel about each other.
Her devotion shines in her eyes every time she looks at Lachlan across the room. I’m happy for her, but a part of me is sad too. The last thing I should want or need is a relationship. Or the kind of wild, stupid love that makes people go temporarily insane. I never thought someone as jaded as me could be touched by a love like that. For the few brief times I was in Ronan’s arms, I felt the way Mack looks right now. Dreamy and completely untouchable to all of the bad around me. The only thing she can see is him now.
At first, I wanted to warn her away from him. But now I know that I was wrong. Lachlan loves her too. Fiercely. And I feel truly sorry for anyone who ever tries to come between the two of them. I doubt there are any lengths they won’t go to for each other.
“You better go to him,” I tell Mack. “He’ll just come to you if you don’t.”
“That’s the way it should be,” she tells me with a grin. “Make them work for it every once in a while.”
I laugh, and then my eyes move on autopilot across the room towards Ronan. The smile on my face dissolves, and the only thing that remains is the act.
“You should go dance with Ronan,” Mack suggests.
It’s all I can do to shake my head because I doubt Mack has any idea of the events that have transpired recently. “Nah. He’s not the dancing type.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” she agrees. “He’s more of the sit in the corner and brood type. Maybe you could go brood with him then?”
Lachlan sneaks up behind her as we’re talking and it isn’t long before he’s dragging her away. I’m grateful for the reprieve from that conversation. I have no intentions of speaking to Ronan tonight.
When I turn around again, I’m surprised to find one of the Russians has descended on me though. He’s a member of the alliance with the Irish, and a frequent client in the VIP area. I’ve seen him in the pit when I danced before and even delivered him drinks a few times.
His name is Niko, and although he’s handsome in a rough way, he doesn’t hold a candle to Ronan. Then again, nobody does.
“One must never drink alone.” He greets me by wiggling a vodka bottle in my direction.
“Wasn’t one glass enough?” I tease.
He shrugs and winks. “When the drinks are on the Irish, you take your fill before the bar goes dry.”
I laugh and Niko pulls two shot glasses out of his pocket. Before I have another chance to decline, he fills them both up to the rim.
I take my glass and hold it up to his while he utters a Russian toast. Then we both toss back our shots and the burn feels good in my stomach.
“What does it mean?” I ask. “The toast?”
Niko flashes me a boyish grin. “May you get drunk enough this evening to think me handsome.”
I’m smiling at him and shaking my head when a firm grip wraps around my arm. I look up to see Ronan, his eyes smoldering with barely contained fury.
His gaze flicks from me to Niko and back, filled with accusation. He yanks me into his side and leans down to whisper in my ear, never taking his eyes off Niko.
“Would ye like the lad to watch me give you a going over?” he asks.
“What the hell is your problem?” I fire back at him.
His response is to forcefully drag me away from Niko and pull me into an empty corner of the club, away from everyone else.
“Party’s over,” he says. “You’ll be going home now.”
“Like hell I will,” I argue. “You don’t get to decide that. Or who I talk to either.”
“You were smiling at him,” he accuses.
“So frigging what?” I retort. “We were just talking. At least someone around here knows how to use his vocabulary.”
We stare at each other in silence, both of us fuming now. He’s acting like a toddler. And after what he told Lachlan, he has no right.
I try to brush past him, but he just follows me. Niko has disappeared into the crowd which is probably for the best. So I take a seat at an empty table and Ronan pulls up a chair beside me.
We both stew in our own silences for a long time. I’m staring at the crowd, and he’s looking at me. I can feel it, but I won’t meet his eyes. Because my anger won’t hold up under that gaze. And I need my anger right now.
But then he does something that I can’t ignore.
His leg brushes mine, and it isn’t an accident. It might seem like such an innocent gesture, but with Ronan, it definitely isn’t. He doesn’t flirt. Or do anything in half-measures. He comes to me for one reason and one reason alone. To take what he wants.
I can’t recall a time he’s ever touched me unless it was for a purpose. But right now, the heat of his leg is pressed against mine, and it can’t be overlooked. I glance over at him, and he’s still watching me.
There’s a guilt and frustration in his eyes, but he doesn’t apologize. Instead, he leans a little closer, and his breath fans my face. For a second, I think he’s going to kiss me. My heart does a weird little flip, and I stare at him in confusion. I don’t know what he’s doing.
Apparently, neither does he. Because he looks as confused as I am. But his gaze isn’t on me now. It’s over my shoulder. Taking mental notes.
When I turn around, I catch sight of Scarlett and Rory across the bar. Sitting in the exact same position as we are. Rory is putting the moves on her, waiting for her to bite. And it occurs to me Ronan is trying to do the same.
“Are you mimicking him?” I ask.
A flush creeps up over his neck and he leans back in his chair. No answer. But what do I expect?
I could try to dissect his motives for following Rory’s lead, but that was the old me.
The new me isn’t supposed to care anymore.
“I’m going to have Conor take me home,” I tell him.
I don’t wait for his reply, and I don’t look at him again.
Childish? Perhaps. But a girl has to be able to protect herself by any means possible. Even if it means using a silent wall of armor.
And until I’m burning rubber out of this city, I have no intentions on speaking to Ronan Fitzpatrick again.