Cruel Surrender by Terri Anne Browning
Bain
From the momentmy father passed, I became the head of the O’Farrell family. Right before Cormac O’Brion died, I’d been handed the reins of the O’Brion family as well. With the responsibility for both family dynasties in my hands, I woke every morning having to decide between democracy and violence.
Most days, I chose democracy, knowing that I would make more allies and better business choices if I had the trust and respect of those I worked with. My father had been a hard but just man when it came to ruling with the O’Farrell power at his fingertips. I’d wanted to make him proud and follow in his footsteps. But there were times I’d witnessed him have to step out of the political role and turn into a killing machine to prove why he was the right man to hold such power.
As I walked into my home office, Declan and Conor stood. “You look like shit beaten up in a bucket, mate,” Declan said, his brows pulled together in concern.
I stabbed my fingers through my hair in agitation. I had no idea how I looked, but from the way my old friend was staring at me, I didn’t doubt his observation. I hadn’t slept in over thirty-six hours. My reason for living was on her way back to New York City without me. Angry, hating me, still crying the last time I’d set eyes on her. I hadn’t wanted to let her go, but she’d begged me to leave her alone. A part of me went with her when she left, but I knew I had to play this smart so I could earn back her trust and love.
I would give her a little time—not long, though. I couldn’t give her more than a few days before I started losing what was left of my mind without her. But the pain in her eyes and her voice as she’d pleaded for me to let her go had been my undoing, and I’d given her the space she seemed so desperate to put between us. I was already climbing my mental walls, looking for any escape from the hell that was partially of my own making. But the majority of this nightmare sat on someone else’s shoulders.
“Where is Sheena?” I snarled.
“She and Cori are in Paris,” Conor informed me, pulling my focus on to him. Something in his voice was off, but I was too lost in my own misery to pinpoint what it was. “Wedding dress shopping, they said.”
Seething, I stomped over to my desk and picked up the phone there. Angrily, I punched in the number and waited for someone to answer. Two minutes later, I had all of Sheena’s and Cori’s cards cut off except for their personal ones. For Sheena, that still left her with an unlimited source of funds. She had her own money that she rarely spent since she thought the O’Brion cash was her personal bank. But for Cori, that left her more or less penniless.
“Harsh,” Declan said with a smirk, but he didn’t question why I’d just cut off my great-grandmother. The rage that was practically rolling off me was enough to let him know not to push me.
Ignoring him, I turned my gaze on Conor, gritting out, “Did you do what I told you?”
“We’ve had eyes on her since she landed. Both guards were with her, but I told our men to keep watch for the one named Ralph leaving suddenly,” he confirmed. “We don’t have anyone inside the Vitucci compound, but we could bribe a maid or gardener if you feel like it’s needed.”
“I have someone in the office where she works. But if I can’t make contact with her in the next few days, I’ll take care of getting eyes inside the compound.” Scrubbing a hand over the scruff on my face, I took my seat behind the desk. I needed to wrap things up here as fast as I could so I could get in the air. “I will be in New York until further notice.”
“What about the memorial next week?” Conor cut in, his face twisted with disgust and anger.
“Declan will stand in for me,” I snapped, not in the mood for his tantrum. Neither he nor Declan was scared to tell me how they felt when they thought I was crossing a line or not doing enough, but I had other things—more important priorities—to handle, and I wasn’t about to let anyone get in my way. “Until this is sorted with Ciana, don’t bother me with any bullshit. If the two of you can’t deal with it personally, then what the feck are you doing as my second and third?”
“All right, mate. All right,” Declan said, lifting his hands in an attempt to calm my rising anger. “Obviously, something happened, and you’ve got shite to tend to personally. We got yer back.”
“You fucking better,” I growled. “There are about to be some changes around here. If you two can’t step up and do your jobs, I won’t hesitate to replace anyone, including you.”
Conor flinched, but Declan only laughed. “You’re a right eejit, mate. Get your arse to America so you can get yer head on straight again.”
When my jettouched down in New York, I was finally able to breathe a little easier. Twenty of my men were waiting when I stepped off the plane, and I started barking orders before my feet even touched the tarmac.
I was starved for the sight of Ciana, but other things needed my attention before I could alleviate that gnawing hunger. Sheena had called me while I was in the air, screeching at me for cutting off her cards. Cori had been sobbing in the background, but by then, I’d been in too much of a rage to deal with either conniving bitch.
They had started this game, but I’d be damned if I played by their rules. When they’d hurt the woman I loved, they had crossed a line that would get them both a one-way trip to hell if they weren’t careful from here on out. If they left Ciana alone, I might allow them to continue to breathe, but if they continued as they had, I wouldn’t hesitate to stop their shenanigans permanently.
Being on the island without a small army of men at my side had spoiled me. I’d enjoyed the privacy almost as much as I’d enjoyed my time with Ciana. But now, I had to be careful again, which meant being surrounded by guards at all times. These men weren’t part of my crew but from a security firm that only knew me as Torin Kennedy, billionaire philanthropist.
From the hourly reports I was getting from my actual men, I knew every move Ciana had made outside the Vitucci compound walls from the moment her own plane touched down. Right then, she was home. But the next day, she was supposed to return to work for the first time since her vacation started.
On the way to my penthouse apartment on Park Avenue, I called the contact I had at New Hope. “She was feeling unwell two days ago,” I told the woman as soon as she picked up. “She nearly passed out.”
“I’ll tell her we need to do some blood work,” the nurse practitioner suggested. I’d chosen the woman because she worked so closely with Ciana every day. Between the NP’s heavy student loans and her ex-husband leaving her with his debt as well as her own, I’d easily been able to bribe her to get what I wanted. “It’s almost time for her yearly anyway, and I’ll convince her that it’s part of the checkup. As soon as I have the lab work back, I’ll let you know.”
“The moment you have it,” I growled.
“I promise, sir.”
“As soon as you see her tomorrow, send me a picture. I want to know how she’s feeling. If she’s still unwell, encourage her to go home after the labs.” I raked a hand through my hair. “I don’t want her working if she’s—”
“Yes, sir,” she rushed to assure me. “I will take care of everything.”
Grunting, I ended the call and tried to text Ciana. The message, like the thousands of others I’d sent over the past two days, went unanswered. I took comfort in the fact that she hadn’t blocked my number. She was still upset, hurting, but she still cared about me. Otherwise, she would have already stopped my messages from getting through.
After another sleepless night, I spent the next morning pacing my living room while I waited for the NP to text me a picture of Ciana. When it finally came through, my heart stopped for a few beats when I got a good look at her.
She was dressed in a pair of baby-pink scrubs, her hair up in a sleek ponytail. Her makeup was perfect as always, and she had a small smile on her lips as she posed for the picture her friend had taken. But the smile didn’t reach her eyes, and those brown orbs told me loud and clear that she was hurting.
I traced my thumb over her sun-kissed cheek. She was so fucking beautiful she robbed me of my next breath.
Another text came in, and I quickly clicked on it.
NP: C says she is feeling fine today. She is acting a little tired, but I can’t tell if that is from traveling or if she’s unwell. I will watch her closely to see how she does throughout the rest of the day. We just did her labs, and as soon as the results are back, you will get the full report in your email. Expect them by the end of the day.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, I tried to focus on something else, but by five that afternoon, I was about to pull out my hair in anticipation.
The moment the medical file dropped into my email, my hands started to tremble. Forcing myself to sit down before I read it, I clicked on the file and waited for it to load.
As soon as my gaze landed on what I was expecting, a lump filled my throat. There, in black-and-white, was the proof that Ciana was pregnant. A part of me was growing inside her. We had created life together.
If she found out I’d planned for her to get pregnant on her vacation, she would only hate me more, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel even an ounce of regret. From the instant I’d learned of her trip, I’d upped the money to the NP. She was the one who gave Ciana her birth control shots, but the last one had only been a saline injection. When I’d promised a bonus to the nurse practitioner if Ciana got pregnant, she’d suggested one of the medications New Hope prescribed to some of the patients who struggled conceiving to make them more fertile. Ciana took daily vitamins, and since she trusted the NP so much, she hadn’t hesitated when the woman added a little something else to her morning supplements.
It was underhanded, but there was nothing I wouldn’t do to ensure that Ciana was tied to me for life.