The Billionaire’s Bride by L. Steele

14

Edward

"Why are you asking me?" I growl. "I am not the one who got us into this mess."

"Oh yeah?" Baron snorts, "If you hadn’t called me, I wouldn’t have come."

"If you hadn’t gone back on your word of not making contact with her, this would not have happened."

Baron thrusts his chin forward, "If you hadn’t—"

The sound of a whistle blows through the space and we freeze, turning toward Sinner, who glares between us. "Woulda, coulda, shoulda. You assholes know better than to spend time talking about what already happened. Question is," his gaze narrows, "what are you gonna do about it now?"

I glance at the faces of each of my friends. They regard me with expressions varying from curiosity to empathy to hope…. Fucking hope. It’s the one thing I don’t have. If she doesn’t choose me, I have nothing. I left the one thing that mattered to me, for her, and if she turns away from me… I pivot and face the window. "F-u-c-k." I bunch the fingers of my free hand into a fist. Don’t go there. Don’t even contemplate that. What you left behind… What you gave up… That’s not on her. It’s what you wanted to do. It’s not that I had been unhappy with my choice to join the seminary. It’s not that I had not been fulfilled. It’s not that I hadn’t found joy in helping others… Something which I hope I can still do.

It was more… The gnawing, aching, emptiness deep inside of me, the one that hadn’t gone away, even after weeks of retreat. When I had turned to Him for help, had spent days in meditation and prayer, searching for an elusive answer. And all I had found was temporary peace. One that went away as soon as I returned to my duties. When worshipping him and dedicating my life to others…still did not fill the nothingness that infused me when I went to bed.... Greeted me when I woke up the next morning, knowing that something was missing. And that restlessness had grown, until I’d met Ava and had been able to put a name to it.

Apparently, I am more human than I thought. More fallible, more vulnerable. I am not invincible. Hell, I’m not even cut out to be a man of the cloth. I know I need her to feel alive. Need her to help me get in touch with that part of me that I have hidden so carefully over the years. Need her to help me embrace the ugliness inside of me… For when I am with her, everything seems so possible. Yeah, she gives me hope…and it’s why I can’t lose her. I square my shoulders, then turn back to the silent room.

"We," I clear my throat, "we’re gonna come up with a plan."

"Thought that’s what you already did?" Sinclair arches an eyebrow.

"A real plan." I glance at Baron, who scowls back at me. "One that is fair for Ava. One in which neither of us is going to outdo the other. One which gives us both an equal…probability of being with her."

He opens his mouth as if to say something, then shuts it. He cracks his neck, regards me thoughtfully, "You have something in mind."

I nod.

"You going to share what you’re thinking?"

I glance around the faces of my friends, "I think your job here is done." I tip up my chin. "You feel me, guys?"

Sinner holds my gaze a second longer, then jerks his chin. "Better get this sorted, you two." He turns to leave, then pauses. "There is one more thing."

He glances between Baron and Weston, "The guy who Edward put out of commission? I assume he’s still unconscious?"

Baron nods, then turns to Weston, "And the fucker Edward shot? I want to know why they came after Ava."

"He’s not yet in a position to speak," Weston replies.

"Hmm." Sinner rubs his jaw. "That’s too bad. I was hoping they’d have some information on what we need to know to get to the bottom of these attacks on us."

"Attacks?" Baron frowns, "What attacks?"

I exchange a glance with Sinner, who jerks his chin. "It’s a series of incidents, which have affected most of us, in some form."

I take in the faces of the rest of the Seven. "If the rest of you are okay with it, I can recap for Baron?"

Damian, Weston, Saint and Arpad nod in my direction.

"It begins with Damian’s girlfriend and child being in a fatal car accident." I rub the back of my neck. "One we now speculate that the Mafia was behind."

"The same Mafia who were behind our kidnapping?" Baron frowns.

I nod.

“Shit," Baron mutters. "That’s…" He sets his jaw, "that’s just…" He turns to Damian, "I’m sorry man, truly."

"Yeah." Damian swallows. "Life, huh? What can I say?"

Baron walks toward Damian, grabs him by the shoulder and draws him close, "I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when it happened."

Damian half smiles. Baron pulls him in for an embrace. They hug, clap each other on the back, before he pulls away.

"What else?" Baron scowls. "What else did those bastards do?"

"They kidnapped Victoria," Saint snarls, "Assholes took her from under my nose. Good thing we tracked down the bastard behind it."

"You did?" Baron frowns. "What did you do with him?"

"He’s working for us, behind enemy lines," Sinner says with some satisfaction.

"Then Weston’s mother was poisoned," I murmur, "They got her to the hospital in time, but we now speculate that the Mafia was behind that too."

"Assholes," Weston growls. "When we finally get the perpetrators who were behind it, I am going to wring their necks."

"They also attacked Weston’s wife in her apartment," I point out.

"Good thing I reached her in time." Weston grunts. "If I hadn’t…"

"But you did," I remind him, "and Amelie's safe."

"And there were, uh, certain benefits, shall we say, in the aftermath of that particular incident, all of which, I was the beneficiary of, so there’s that…" He smirks.

The rest of the men chuckle.

"Now, the homeless man," I glance between the men, "Guess Baron told you that he was a student at St. Lucian’s?"

Damian nods, "We also know that he used to be a junkie, hard up on his next fix, who was used by the Mafia to supply the whereabouts of our locations to them."

"And yet," I tilt my head, "he helped all of you at various points."

"He did?" Baron scowls.

"He’s played a role in smoothing the way for the five of them to get their women."

"Not me," Sinner points out, "though I admit, it was intriguing to read his Byron quotes… Shit," He straightens. "Byron. He quoted Byron."

"So?" I turn to him. "You remember something, Sinner?"

"Summer’s father, before he died, he mentioned something about Byron. Fucking hell." He drags his fingers through his hair. "I never could understand the significance of it…but it’s too much of a coincidence, don’t you think, that the homeless man was quoting Byron?" He glances at me. "Surely, he must know more than he revealed to you."

"Only way to find out is when he wakes up." I turn to Weston, "Which could be when, Doc?"

"Anyone’s guess." He narrows his gaze on me, "You sure lost your shit there, Ed. It’s not like you to cause bodily harm to anyone."

"Yeah, well," I chuckle dryly, "apparently, there’s a lot about me that I am discovering for the first time."

The guys stare at me with something like understanding…empathy… Even pity, on their faces. Jesus...and now I am using the Lord’s name as a swearword. Which, I shouldn’t, but I can, now that, technically, I’ve walked away from the priesthood, but bloody hell... I am, clearly, losing my head right now.

"I think it’s time you guys left," I mutter. "Baron and I have shit to sort out."

No one moves. They stare at me, then at Baron.

"What?" I bark. "I may have almost strangled one man. Doesn’t mean I’m going to do anything to Baron, who, by the way, can defend himself really well, considering he is the ex-soldier here."

"You’re not too bad at holding your own in a fight, Fath—I mean Ed," Saint finally says. "Shit, it’s going to take some getting used to, to not call you Father anymore."

"Tell me about it," I say bitterly.

Sinner stares between Baron and me, then nods. He turns to Weston, "So, you’ll tell us when either of the men awakens?"

"You guys will be the first to know," he affirms.

"Well, then," Damian straightens, "time to get the hell out of here and let these two jokers sort their shit out."

The guys, one by one, hug Baron, then me. They say their goodbyes and walk out of the door. I rub the back of my neck, then turn back to the booze. I pour whiskey into my glass, top up another and push it toward Baron.

We raise our glasses, toss back the drinks. I place my tumbler back on the counter with a thump, then turn to him.

"About Ava," he begins at the same time as I say, "We need to talk—"

We both chuckle, then he gestures to me, "You first."

I top up my glass, then his, pick up mine and stare into the depths of the amber liquid. I take a sip, turn to him, "I have a plan."