Page 36 of Cassio (Belles & Mobsters 3)

She would be mine soon anyhow. She had been mine from the moment her hand reached out to me in that wretched cell where we rescued her from.

Fuck, just thinking about it sent rage through my veins. Her black and blue body from the beatings she endured, her school uniform spattered with blood. I was surprised she couldn’t remember us. Yes, it was eleven years ago, but something like that you’d never forget.

“I hate when people touch me,” she admitted. I raised my eyebrow. She let me touch her two years ago. Even now, I was rubbing her back. She was so distressed, she didn’t even realize what she was saying.

Áine closed her eyes, and I got the sense she was focusing on her breathing.

The elevator jerked again and I cursed silently. Áine’s eyes snapped to me, as if she was seeking comfort.

“It’s okay,” I assured her.

“Breathe in,” she muttered low to herself. “Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.”

Margaret lowered herself and ended up sitting on the floor too. “It would have been more comfortable if we went with your wardrobe choice, huh?”

She was trying to make her cousin comfortable. A wobbly smile came to Áine’s lips. “Yes, I think so.”

Her voice was soft and melodious, different from the little girl’s I remembered.Even different from two years ago.

Last time we didn’t spend much time talking, I thought wryly to myself. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her short dress, but at least she wasn’t freaking out anymore.

“Do you- do you think we’ll run out of oxygen?” She seemed brave, tough even. This fear was irrational, and I wondered what drove it. There had to be something behind it.

“No, we are fine,” I told her firmly. “Lifts are not airtight.”

Her blue eyes, color of the clearest Caribbean seas, locked with mine as if she sought truth in them. Then she nodded, almost as if she trusted me.

“Maybe we should go back to our room after we get out,” Margaret offered. “We can take the stairs.”

Áine’s face was very expressive, at least to me. She wanted to say yes, but shook her head instead. “No, that’s okay. It’s your night.”

I stood up and noted Áine’s eyes following me. I offered her a smile and hoped it was a passable one. I rarely smiled, the muscles on my face for it long unused. Though with Bianca, my newfound sister, and my nieces in my life, it was slowly becoming something normal.

It must have worked because she smiled back. Whether she knew it or not, she was strong. I knew it eleven years ago, and it was more evident today. Maybe she made herself forget what she endured, but she was here… strong, beautiful, and prevailing. Just like her namesake.

I looked up her name once since it was so unusual. In Irish mythology, Áine was a goddess who took revenge on a king that deceived her. And the few drawn portraits of the goddess all portrayed her as a red-haired beauty. Ironic really! Since our family’s last name was King, and I was about to deceive this beautiful red-haired woman, the name fit her perfectly.

The elevator shook and her eyes widened. But then the lift started descending, slowly and smoothly.

I offered her my hand. Her eyes watched it warily, reminding me of our first meeting and something in my chest squeezed.

Ba bum. Ba bum. Ba bum.

It took three heartbeats before she took it hesitantly. I watched her pale skin against my tan complexion and somehow we fit. Her hand was cold against my warmth, petite against my large palm. Truthfully, Áine Evans was my opposite in every way, but in all the right ways.

Mine. The words resonated in my chest and nothing would extinguish it but my death.

I helped her up and she quickly pulled her dress down with her free hand.

She took several breaths in and out before she spoke up, offering an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry for freaking out,” she muttered embarrassment all over her face.

“Don’t mention it,” I told her, offering her another smile.

“Bet your ass, I won’t,” she retorted with a small smile. “It’s bad enough that four of us know it.”

Her hand was still in mine. I kept waiting for her to slide her palm out of my grip, but she hadn’t pulled away. Those mesmerizing eyes watched me, as if she was searching for answers.

The elevator door beeped open and a group of people were in front of it. It was Margaret’s bachelorette party ready for their Chippendale performance, which unbeknownst to them, was canceled. A loud cheer exploded as soon as we were spotted.

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