Only For Him, page 39
“Braelynn.” She swallows hard. “Is that a—”
I keep my voice low and try to keep my hand from trembling. “He asked me to marry him, and I said yes.” Tears come to my eyes. They’re hot and stinging, and my mom hasn’t had a chance to say a word, but I already know she won’t approve of me being with Declan. I don’t know why emotion feels thick and heavy in my chest, like it kills me that she doesn’t love him already. I need her to. I need her to love him too. “I love him, Mama, and he loves me.”
I swipe a napkin from the holder on the table with my right hand and dab at my eyes. What is wrong with me? My mom might not ever approve. That’s something I thought I’d come to terms with.
It’s not like I can change this. “I can’t change who I love Mama,” I murmur to her, attempting to hold myself together but her wide eyes only stare back with uncertainty before landing on the ring again. My mind whirls with all the things I wish I could tell her and I find myself breathing heavier and heavier.
My mom stares at the ring, a frown marring her face. It’s only then that I notice the dark circles under her eyes and the way her grays show more than ever. I can’t tell what she’s thinking at all.
“That…” Her hand inches toward mine, but she doesn’t actually touch me. “That ring is expensive, neña.”
I can see the puzzle pieces slipping into place in her mind as the seconds tick by. I dare to whisper, “He could afford it just fine.”
Her eyes come back to mine, and now I see her hope and her fear. That’s a tough combination. “Who is this man?”
I steel myself. This is the part that worried me more than anything. Getting married without her knowing about it was one thing. Marrying the man I chose… “Declan Cross.”
“No,” she whispers, and her hand flutters at her throat. My mom glances around the coffee shop as if she’s hoping no one else heard. Like it doesn’t have to be true if no one else knows.
“Yes,” I tell her and my heart breaks into a million pieces. “I love him and he loves me.”
Her eyes finally land on mine, and now we’re both teary-eyed. “Not my baby girl.” Her voice wavers and it utterly destroys me.
“I knew you wouldn’t approve,” I swallow thickly, barely able to keep it together. I glance past my mother and see the men watching. They all know. I hate this. I hate all of this.
“Tell me it isn’t true, Braelynn,” my mother says, her accent slightly thicker with her growing emotions.
I sit up straight and wipe at my eyes again. The tears just keep coming no matter what I do, so I don’t have a choice but to wipe them away. At least my voice is steady when I speak. “He loves me.”
“He’s dangerous.” My mother whispers dangerous like she’s worried she might be overheard by Declan himself. She doesn’t realize that his people are all around us in this café. Even if they weren’t, I sleep in his bed every night. I know how dangerous he and his brothers are. I’ve known for a long time.
“They’re all dangerous, Mama. Every man I’ve ever loved.” My blood runs cold knowing this is exactly what I expected. Knowing I couldn’t change this with all the money and power in the world. Some men are always feared, and who would want their daughter to be with a man like him? If she knew our entire story, she’d take me away from him in a heartbeat. That’s what hurts the most. I know she has good reason to want to keep me from him. I know how bad it can get. And yet, I still love him.
My mom shakes her head, her lips quivering. I don’t want her to sob at the table. I don’t want her fears to be so overwhelming that she won’t see me. She can’t think so little of me, can she? She can’t think I’d throw my life away on someone I didn’t love.
“I love him. Please. Please, Mama.” I reach out and take her hand, clasping it tight on top of the table. “Please just give him a chance.”
“You have no idea what you’re getting into with those men, mi neña.”
“Unfortunately, I do.” I lift another napkin to wipe at my eyes. I’ve gone through three of them already, and the tears are starting to slow, thank God. Because there’s more to tell her. I have to be honest with my mother if I’m going to have her in my life. “It wasn’t just a proposal. We’re married already because of…” Now I’m the one glancing around the coffee shop to be sure we’re not overheard. Of course, there’s always a chance. “Because of some of those things.”
My heart races as she holds my hand tighter and her face crumples with worry.
“I’m okay, and I love him, but this”—I lift my hand so the ring shines in the light— “this couldn’t wait.”
With my limited confession, she’s beside herself, really. As if she’s blaming herself for missing all the signs with me. As if there’s some solution to the fact that I’m married to Declan, and she’s just not seeing it. She looks like she’s running out of time, and that makes my heart clench, because I know that feeling very well.
“He cares for me.”
Her hand wraps around mine and I can see her will cave slightly, although I’m not sure to what extent.
“You’re married?” she says as if it’s a question but it’s not.
“Yes,” I answer quietly, feeling the tension shift slightly.
My mother blinks away the tears and noticeably calms herself.
“I’m married and I’m happy that I am.”
My words bring her gaze to me and she stares me down like she’s done before. As if she’s testing to see if I’m telling her the truth. “I mean it,” I reaffirm, “I love him, Mama.”
Mama watches me very carefully when I say these words. I look back at her, my gaze unwavering. I’m telling her the truth, and she needs to know that. “I want you to meet him.”
“Well.” A nervous laugh. I’m not sure if there’s relief now, or if she’s simply going along so she doesn’t lose me entirely. “Do I have a choice?”
It’s another half-joke that breaks my heart.
“Mama, please. When I tell you I love him, I mean it.”
For a few seconds, she looks exactly the same. Afraid. Haunted. Guilty. But gradually, her expression softens. When she looks into my eyes, I can tell she’s really seeing me.
“You really love him?”
“Yes.” I nod, then dab at the corners of my eyes again.
“Then I will meet him.”
“You will?” I ask her again to make sure. I’m quick to grab her hand and squeeze, and she squeezes mine back. I know she’s still worried. I know, honestly, that she has a right to be worried. But if she’s willing to meet Declan, then there’s hope.
“I’m so happy,” I tell her even though I know I must look like I’m on the verge of tears again.
“I will meet your husband,” she says, more firmly. Then she pats my hand. “Has this cocoa been sitting here long?”
I shrug. “Fifteen minutes, maybe?”
“It’s a little cold.” She waves at the waiter, who makes his way over with a relieved smile. “We’ll get something stiffer. And then you’ll tell me everything, won’t you?” she asks me, staring me down once again.
I look my mother dead in the eyes, a small smile on my face while I lie to her, “I’ll tell you everything.”
DECLAN
There’s something we’re missing and it’s driving me mad. I toss the fucking book on Carter’s desk. My older brother eyes me warily. It’s fucking late and I should be in bed with Braelynn, but I can’t fucking sleep.
I’ve flipped through every page of the notebook and there was someone else working with Scarlet. Someone who knew a female cop and reported to her. I’ve watched every security video with Scarlet on repeat until my eyes feel as if they’re bleeding. Every video with my Braelynn.
It doesn’t fucking make sense. None of it. It’s as if I must be staring at the fucking rat and yet he’s hidden.
It would be so easy to simply get rid of the detective. And everyone he’s worked with. I have a list…but I’m all too aware at least one name is missing.
“Who the fuck do we have to torture to figure it out?”
“The female cop is gone. N got a hold of her with the issue he’s going through,” Carter murmurs. He has his intel and I have mine. She would have been the only lead to the name. Even this detective doesn’t know how she got her information. Which is partly a blessing. Hearsay isn’t enough to grant an arrest warrant.
“The only info he gave me is what I told you last night.”
I clear my throat, breathing in deeply. “And I’m guessing he didn’t get a name.”
“If he did, he didn’t tell me.”
The domino pieces slip into place in my mind. The judge, the detective who works with the feds, the cops beneath him, and then the rats. There is Scarlet, but then there’s someone else. I find myself questioning if it was Scarlet who set Braelynn up or one of my men.
“You’re overthinking this,” Carter murmurs. “We get rid of the cops and the rat is left with no one to squeal to,” he tells me, his dark eyes piercing into mine. “We’ll find out who it is eventually. They always tell on themselves.”
He doesn’t get it. I don’t have the patience for this. I don’t have the mercy or grace. I can barely focus on anything else.
“There’s got to be something we’re missing,” I tell him. “Someone framed Braelynn.”
“Well if it wasn’t Scarlet…then…then someone else told the cops the export numbers. The, what was it, 886 thousand, which is damn well high enough for federal prosecution of embezzlement.”
Jase corrects him, “It was under 850…like 849 k. That’s how much was on her sheet.”
A chill goes down my spine. “That’s not right. Hold on, that’s not right.”
Jase’s brow furrows, “What’s not right? Those are the numbers reported.”
“It shouldn’t be, it’s not what was on her sheet.”
“Jase, where did you get those figures from?” I question him although I can barely hear my own voice, the ringing in my head is so loud.
“It doesn’t matter, does it? It was made up.”
“No, it does. On the video.”
“Go back. Go back to when we first met about Braelynn. About her sneaking around in the office.”
“What date was it?” he questions and I rattle it off. I know all these details by fucking heart now.
“You said those numbers. Those figures. They’re not what I put down though.” Every piece of footage, every person, every possibility races through my mind.
My brothers and I are the ones who discussed what I would put on those sheets for her. But the figures said out loud weren’t exactly the figures I put in the sheet. It was random. It wasn’t supposed to be a real test. I trusted her, and it was only to ease their concerns.
My entire body turns to ice. “No one but us,” I start and then realize someone could have been in the security room. Carter doesn’t object as I click through files upon files of security footage, until I find the folder with the date we met.
“It was Nate who said 886 thousand was reported,” Jase says and my head whirls as I swallow thickly. Hitting play on the hall video just outside the security room in the bar. My brothers and I would be in the back room of the bar. Discussing my new obsession with Braelynn and my plan to ensure she wasn’t a rat. And there he is…in front of all of our eyes.
“So, you said Nate told you?” Carter questions Jase.
Nate unlocks the security room and I speed up the tape. He doesn’t leave for two hours.
“Why the fuck would Nate tell you any other figure than what was reported? And how the hell would he get the same number we discussed?”
Nate would have heard our conversation. He would have heard my plans. He would have known what was going to happen and that she could so very easily be set up.
My vision turns red as my brothers discuss the reality. And all I can envision is wrapping my hands around that rat bastard’s neck.
He listened to the conversation. He set her up. But the figures he remembered weren’t the ones that were reported. He could have seen the spreadsheet before it was given to her, he could have watched me set it up from that office, and he could have written them down.
What he remembered was what we said though…he really did fucking tell on himself.
I stare at the computer as he exits the security room, a goddamn notepad in his hand. My blood races through my veins and adrenaline screams through me. Fucking Nate?
How could he do this? It makes no fucking sense at all.
Carter interrupts my thoughts as rage builds upon rage as the betrayal sets in. Nate? My right-hand man? Why? He fucking drove her home the other day. He was alone with her. My vision turns red.
“Nate was working with the female cop. Was he working with anyone else? If he wasn’t, there’s a good chance he will be shortly now that she’s gone.”
BRAELYNN
I’ve never done this before and I’m nervous as hell because it feels like a different kind of test entirely. I keep turning the ring around my finger and I wish I wouldn’t. It’s an obvious sign of my nerves. So instead, I tuck my hands inside of the long sleeves of my blue knit sweater so only the tips of my fingers show.
I’ve never been here either and it occurs to me that the room was designed for just this. The office is small and cozy and just off the kitchen, with a couch, a chair, and a desk. Aria’s art hangs on walls painted a warm eggshell color. I think this room would feel warm even on the coldest day of the year. Built-in shelves on one side hold smaller pieces by Aria and photographs. She and Carter smile out from one. The two of them plus the kids.
It’s a heartbreakingly normal home office. A stranger sitting in here would know that somebody liked art, and that Aria and Carter are happy together. They’d never know what it takes to win happiness for people like Carter and his brothers. All that darkness would be hidden from them.
Or, if not hidden, just…out of sight. It’s not on display here, the way it might be if Aria put it into one of her pieces. Well except for the fact that the person staring back at me is supposed to hear all of that…since she’s a therapist.
I settle back into the couch, unsure of what, exactly, to do with my body. This room is neutral in a way that says it’s trying to be neutral, which is very different from the rest of the house. I know there are cameras here. I know I’m being watched.
Which isn’t what I’d expect from a therapy session, I guess, but it is what I’d expect in the world of the Cross brothers.
“This isn’t a test, right?” My soft question moves across the room, no doubt being picked up by microphones from those cameras. How many people are tracking the words that come out of my mouth? Just Declan, or one of his men, or one of his brothers? Is there a room somewhere in the house where they can sit and watch? Anxiousness creeps up my arms and I find myself crossing them as I breathe out a slow steady breath.
I don’t like the thought of a dark room and computer screens displaying my therapy session, but I bet there’s an explanation for that, too. There’s a reason it has to happen.
The therapist smiles at me from her seat near the desk. She’s an older woman, and she looks at home in this office. An elegant top is paired with slacks that look both comfortable and expensive at the same time. Dark hair is pulled back in a twist. If the cameras make her feel anything, I can’t tell. She meets my eyes with a warm, considering expression. “Are you used to being tested?”
I glance around the room one more time, still unsure of all of this as I readjust. I didn’t expect for the session to be totally private, obviously, but it would be easier if I knew where the cameras were. If this kind of thing is going to be a regular part of my life, then there’s no need to hide it so much. He can be up-front about it.
“Braelynn?” Her question directs my attention back to her, and I remember that she asked me a question in return for mine.
“I can tell you anything? Declan said I could, and can I trust him with that?” I ask her. He can watch all he wants while I spill out everything that comes to mind.
Afterall, he told me to say whatever I wanted. I’m tempted to do just that, but…I want her confirmation first. I know that’s not enough to truly judge a person on, but I have Aria’s word that she’s good, too.
“Of course you can. I mean that. Anything.” She leans forward a little, folding her hands over a notepad in her lap. “I grew up in this life, Braelynn. You can tell me you murdered your first lover and I wouldn’t say a word to anyone.”
Declan told me that, too. This woman has been around for years. I let myself relax a little and remember her first question.
“Yes. I’m used to being tested.”
She sits up, taking a pen in hand. “It sounds like you don’t like that.”
“I hated it. I was furious about it.”
“In the past, or do you still feel that way?”
“I feel like—” I give it a few moments. There’s no need to rush my answers. “It was upsetting, and it made me angry. I didn’t understand it, and that just made me feel…out of control.”
“What changed?”
I shrug, a bit helpless at how to answer. “It was gradual. I had to take the time to figure things out. The hardest thing to get past was the distrust.”
“Have you communicated this with Declan?”
“Yes.”
“What was his response?”
“He was remorseful. He felt awful about it.” An ache in my chest reminds me of how much I love him. Of how it hurts to think of him terrified for me, and worried, and how that must still follow him around to this day. “He does his best to reassure me. Every chance he gets now.”
She absorbs this for a few minutes. It’s clear that she’s had lots of experience as a therapist because there’s no impatience in the quiet. There really is space for me to say anything I need to say.
