Page 32 of The Hermit

Dominik finally turns to face us, and with his eyes locking on me, he says, “Then I’ll marry you.”

“Okay,” I agree without even thinking about it.

At the same time the word leaves my mouth, Dad exclaims, “No!” He glances between Dominik and me, then says, “Grace was already married. It’s Ciara’s turn.”

Having had enough, I tap Ciara on her shoulder and say, “Leave.”

With wide eyes, she glances at Dad before climbing to her feet.

“Sit down, Ciara,” Dad orders, a second away from losing his shit.

“Go!” I pull Ciara around me before nudging her toward the door. “Shut the door behind you.”

She obeys me, and when she’s gone, I level the men with a glare. “This. Ends. Now.”

Dad darts up from his chair and slams his fist down on the desk. “Jesus Christ, Grace. It’s not for you to decide!”

Like hell, it is.

DOMINIK

“I agree with Grace,” I say, which only earns me a dark glare from her.

“Ciara is the only option,” Ian insists, his hand cutting through the air as he doubles down on his decision.

“She will never be an option.” Grace takes a step closer to the desk, her eyes burning with rage on her father. “I won’t let you sell her for your profit.”

“I’m not getting money out of this, Grace,” Ian mutters. “An alliance with Dominik is important for the survival of our family.”

Starting to lose my patience with Ian, I grumble, “Grace has agreed to marry me. Any further conversation is pointless.”

“No!” When Devlin directs his anger at me, my fist opens and close, and it takes a lot of effort not to draw my gun on him.

He glances between Grace and me, then says, “Grace was already married.”

“That doesn’t mean shit to me,” I mutter.

There’s a flash of panic in his eyes, then he gives Grace a pleading look. “You barely survived your first marriage.”

Grace stands her ground, not backing down. “No thanks to you. I won’t put Ciara at risk of being abused.”

My head snaps to Grace, and I capture her eyes. “Abused? You think I’d hit her?”

A weird expression tightens her features, and this time, I recognize it faster for what it is. Trauma.

Before I can stop myself, I ask with a fucking dark tone, “What did Mallon do to you?”

Ian quickly shakes his head. “We don’t talk about it. Just know Grace is off the table.”

“Tell me!” I demand, my patience slipping fast.

Realizing not to fuck around anymore, Ian clears his throat before saying, “He used to beat Grace.”

The frown on my forehead deepens even more as I look at Grace. “And?”

She shakes her head. “Someone like you wouldn’t understand.”

My voice is downright deadly as I mutter, “Try me.”

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