Page 87 of Stolen Rival
“I know you wanted to meet her, but what use would she be at a business meeting?” He sighs, loudly. “For fuck’s sake, she’s an empty suit. I don’t know how the fuck McCarthy stayed in power so long when his own daughter is like a pint with no head on it.”
He pauses, presumably for the other person to laugh,laughatme.
My stomach hollows out. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I can’t have misheard, and considering I’m the only McCarthy left, there’s no mistaking he is talking about me.
“Aye, like a sheep trying to do algebra.” He chuckles, acavernous sound that echoes around the library. Alright, Patrick, you’ve made your fucking point. He gets it. You think you married a dumb bitch who has preciselyzerobusiness acumen or street smarts.
I suppose we can’t all be perfect little mafia soldiers.
Ugh. Bitterness fills my mouth as a heaviness takes over my body. I really thought we were making progress, but it’s all been a lie. It’s always lies with him.
I spin on my heel and head toward the stairs. Fuck him. Fuck all of them. I bet theyallthink I’m, what was it he called me? An empty suit?
Tears fill my eyes as a lump grows in my throat. I thought… I don’t know what I thought. That I could maybe one day fall in love with the monster who killed my family? That maybe he wasn’tthatbad? Maybe he was only a walking red flag to everyone else and to me he’d be different?
I almost slap myself in the face as I traipse to our bedroom. If I could get away with it, I’d sleep in the one I used when I first came here, but that will raise questions, and I’m not ready to answer them yet.
What the fuck was I thinking?
Leopards don’t change their spots.
If it walks like an arsehole, talks like an arsehole, and kills your whole family like a psychopath, hearing him call you a dumb fuck to one of his work colleagues shouldn’t come as a surprise.
So then why does it feel like he’s reached inside my chest and sliced open my heart with a rusty blade?
Chapter 42
SORCHA
Last night,I pretended to be asleep when Patrick finally came to bed, and I didn’t curl into him like I usually do. I faked sleep again this morning when he got up to go on whatever trip I’m too uneducated to go on with him.
As soon as I heard the sound of the car kicking up the gravel announcing his departure, I’d reached for my phone and messaged Rosanna “turnip,” which means “load up, bitch, we’re going day drinking.”
Her reply was concise: “See you at Whiskey Business at twelve. First one there orders the drinks and the chicken wings. Make mine a double.”
Next, I messaged the staff group chat to give them a heads up that I’m going out to meet Rosanna. I tell them the time, the intended location, and I even give the driver a heads-up that we’ll be taking the Saab. Look at me being the dutiful little mafia wife, giving the security people all the information they’re going to need before they need it.
I grind my teeth, Patrick’s words from last night still echoing in my mind. Sure, I’vefeltlike a goldfish in a thunderstorm since he kidnapped me at gunpoint. And I’ve had flashes of rage at Da for not having appropriately prepared me for the life I’m now expected to lead. But I thought I was improving. I thought I was learning, adapting, and that my instincts weren’t actually bad to begin with.
Hauling myself out of bed, I shower, get dressed, and eat a massive fry Maeve insists on making me before I head out to go day drinking.
As I’m running my plate under the tap, Darragh appears. “Morning, Sorch.”
He’s the only one in the house who calls me that, and I’m not mad about it. At least I wasn’t. Until last night, I was warming to the idea of becoming more familiar with these men. They’ll never replace my family, but hating them with every fiber of my being had long ago worn me down. Yet after hearing what Patrick said on the phone, it’s flared anew. I’m just so tired of it.
Hate is exhausting and caustic. The way it chips away at your insides, consuming like a cancer. That’s not something I wanted to hold onto for any real length of time. But now I know that piece of shithusbandof mine was paying me lip service to get me into bed and he actually believes I’m a useless eejit, he deserves it if I go back to hating him with my whole chest.
“Morning, Darragh. Tea?” I wiggle my empty mug at him. I don’t really have time for another cup, but Rosanna will understand if I’m a few minutes late. More chicken wings for her if she gets to order them.
“Thanks, but I’m on my way down to the gym.” He’s glum, probably sulking that he’s not away with his brothers, but he offers me a smile, nonetheless. “Maybeafter?”
“I’m heading to meet Rosanna at Whiskey Business for lunch.”
He gives me a sly wink. “Aye, a liquid lunch.”
“May as well.”
He heads down to the gym and I rinse out my mug. Maeve has taken to scolding me for cleaning up after myself, but I refuse to turn into a slob like the men she picks up after.
