Page 118 of Connor's Claim

I lost track of Piers’ angry ranting and instead saw myself as a pawn used for my father’s selfish aspirations. He’d use me to return our family to the glory he sought.

Genevieve’s warm fingers squeezing mine brought me back, and I stared at her then was moving. Half on autopilot, I travelled to Connor’s side so Piers could see me.

“Why would you inherit your brother’s title?” I demanded.

Piers’ lips parted then curled into a satisfied smirk. “Everly. Now it all makes sense.”

“Answer the question,” Connor ordered.

I didn’t know what I’d stumbled into as I hadn’t heard, but he backed me up. He always had.

Piers tongued a cut on his lip. “My brother’s dying. I’m next in line.”

Dying. God. “What about your other brother? Why isn’t he the heir?”

“Chandler served time in jail. Anwell chose to skip him in the line of succession. He’s named me in his will. A right choice.”

What had we found out about Piers—that he’d made a sexual assault charge go away? If he’d gone to prison or got entangled with a scandal, that presumably would’ve risked his position of heir, too. He’d been desperate for a solution.

“That’s what my father promised you,” I stated, my hurt and anger rising. “A wife to rehabilitate your image, not for your job but for your family seat, and in exchange the mayor would get a grandchild with a title.”

His expression of disdain told me I’d got it in one.

“He didn’t tell me you were such an ugly slut,” Piers added. “I learned that the hard way. But I’ll only have to face that when you’re in my bed.”

Connor unleashed a punishing uppercut that I wished I had the nerve or strength to deliver.

Piers’ chair tipped back and crashed to the floor, and the man howled in pain, his nose crooked and blood oozing over his upper lip.

“Say another word about Everly,” Connor gritted out to Piers. “See if ye can still breathe after.”

“That crunch of his nose breaking was so satisfying,” Cassie commented from the side. “Can I make him scream?”

Connor laughed under his breath and righted Piers’ seat then stepped back, his knife handed over once again along with a warning. “Don’t let him enjoy unconsciousness.”

The prisoner lifted his head at Cassie’s approach. “What is this, train a bitch day? You think you can hurt me?”

She unleashed an unnerving smile. “Ask me to. I’ll enjoy every second of it.”

I held up a hand. “One thing before you start.” All I needed now was for this to be over, for me to be out of Piers and my father’s game, and there was only one way to do it.

“I’m pregnant,” I told him. Jumping the gun but better for him to take the news to the mayor, or better still, leave and never look back. “I’m going to have a baby with Connor, so your plotting failed. I would never be the mother of your children. Never be the docile woman you wanted.”

Piers stared at me for a long moment, disgust crawling off him. Then, pointedly, he eyeballed Riordan still standing beside Cassie. “A pity. All your father wanted was a son he could be proud of.”

Riordan flinched. With a bloodied mouth, Piers smiled.

“Oh, fuck this guy,” Cassie stated. “Ye are a worthless little maggot. In fact, let’s see exactly how little I can make ye.”

Flipping the knife, she knelt in front of Piers. Without pause, she slipped the blade under his trouser leg and sliced up. The material parted with a rip, and she kept going, first one leg, then the other, leaving bleeding lines on his skin where she didn’t take care with the tip.

Riordan spoke low and against the spluttered threats Piers spewed at her. “It isn’t worth it.”

I tore my gaze from her to him. Cassie had flown into anger at least in part over Riordan, and likewise, he watched her with some degree of familiarity or concern. I’d had no idea they knew each other that well.

A cry of pure rage had me snapping my attention back to Piers.

Cassie shredded his boxer shorts, and her nose wrinkled. “Wet. Gross. Everly, film me, aye?”

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