Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
“Did I say something wrong?” Erin says, her brow furrowed.
“No, love,” Caitlin says, a smile in her voice as she pats Erin's shoulder. “You're perfect, just as you are.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I rinse and dry my hands, expecting another flirty message from Ashland. But when I see it's from my mother, my belly flutters with nerves. She's no longer just insisting that I come home. There's a different edge to her texts.
Now that I see her for what she is, I suspect everything.
Erin does too. I know she does. And I'm curious what she's going to reveal about her.
Mam
Marcus found you. He's coming to the McCarthy house. Bianca, we need to talk. Please.
My blood runs cold.
“Does anybody know where Ashland is?” I say, my voice too high.
“Everything alright?” Caitlin asks warily.
I shake my head and show her the message.
“He's not coming. She's lying,” she says quietly. “I’m sorry. I don’t normally speak ill of people who can’t defend themselves, but I promise, he can’t come. Declan's been watching him and his people. He would know if he was moving. Don't worry about it, but let's go find Ashland.”
We walk through the massive house, and she speaks quietly to the staff until somebody finally locates Ashland with Seamus in his study.
“I need to talk with you,” I say.
Seamus looks at his mother. She shakes her head and gives a quiet nod for him to leave. Seamus's brow furrows, but he stands and leaves.
It's just Ashland and me. His jaw tics as he reads the message. “How the fuck did he find you?”
“Do you want me to ask her?”
He nods, so I text back with shaking fingers.
How did he find me?
Mam
Facial recognition software. He has connections everywhere, Bianca. Please. I'm scared for you. Can I come see you? I need to know you're safe.
Ashland reads over my shoulder, his body coiled tight with tension. “She wants to come here. She sounds scared and genuinely concerned,” I say, though something feels off about this.
“She should be fucking scared,” he mutters. “But if she wants to talk, we'll talk on our terms.”
He speaks to Seamus, and within an hour, my mother is being escorted to the front door by Declan, and I am a bundle of nerves. Even Ashland's large, warm hand on the small of my back does little to soothe me.
By the time she arrives, Ashland's cleared the kitchen of everyone except Erin, who sits at the far end of the table, quiet and observant. Readers are on the tip of her nose, her blonde hair pulled into a merciless ponytail. Caitlin lingers in the doorway.
“Mrs. White,” Caitlin says, her voice simple but cool. “Welcome, but please remember you're a guest here, and so is Bianca.” The warning is clear.
My mother sits across from me, her olive skin and dark eyes so different from my pale Irish coloring—all the Italian beauty I didn't inherit. Her hair is pulled back in a severe bun, not a strand out of place, and she's wearing the pearls she always wears, the ones she told me were from my father. She looks immaculate as always—makeup flawless, wearing a cream-colored blouse that probably cost more than I realize.
She nods to Caitlin, but I can see her taking everything in. The expensive finishes, the warm lighting, the obvious wealth that surrounds us. Her lips thin with jealousy, and I know exactly what she would say if we were alone. Flagrant show of wealth. Something barely masked as criticism, when it's nothing more than childish envy.
My mother nods, and Caitlin leaves, closing the door behind her with a soft click that feels a bit like a gavel falling.
Ashland's hand flexes on my back, his torso pressed against my shoulder, and my mother notices everything.
“Who are you?” she says coldly to Ashland.
“Ashland McCarthy,” he says. “Pleased to meet you.” His tone shows that he's not at all pleased, and he doesn't extend his hand in greeting.
“Bianca, baby,” my mother starts, reaching for me across the table.
Ashland's hand is on my shoulder now, possessive and protective. “She's not your baby anymore, Mrs. White. Say what you came to say.”
My mother's eyes flash with anger, but she swallows it down. She's outnumbered and no longer at home, where she commands everything.
“Bianca, I've been so worried about you. Marcus is calling constantly, demanding to know where you are. He says you left the restaurant together, and then you disappeared.” She swallows hard and pinches the bridge of her nose. “He thinks the McCarthys took you.”
“They didn't take me,” I correct, shaking my head. “I asked Ashland to come get me, to get me out of there.”
She blows out a breath. “Because he convinced you Marcus was dangerous.”
“No, Mam.” My voice is stronger now. “Because Marcus grabbed my wrist so hard, he left bruises. Because he threatened me when I said I wanted to postpone the wedding. Because I saw something in his eyes that terrified me.”