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It’s a good question, showing surprising forethought from a man so shaken by our encounter. Gus laughs down at him.

“She’ll be the one with your repaired car.”

Gus slams the door, and I drive us away at residential speed. My men laugh in the back of the van. A job well done. They’re good soldiers who know their duty and their place. Neither of them asked why the hell I’m doing any of this. I told myself it’s atonement, payment to Harrison’s mam for murdering her son. But it’s more than that.

I’m doing this because the love of my life would want me to.

In a few days, I’ll be getting married to the pakhan’s daughter. I’ll be doing my duty to my family by taking a wife. And I’ll do my duty to Vasilisa by being a faithful husband.

But I’ll never stop loving Brioni.

She made me the best version of myself. Because I wanted to make her proud, I became a better man.

I still want to make her proud.

She’ll never find out about Harrison’s mam’s shelter. Our contact here will make sure of that. But this isn’t about Brioni knowing that she made me better.

This is just me being better. A better man.

The best leader.

Chapter 54

Brioni

I can’t stop thinking about my mam’s note. Orla suggested that I keep it, but it wasn’t addressed to me, so it felt wrong to take. And I’d already memorized the words, cramped letters in blue ink, the last message from my mam before she left.

Orla—

I know you’ll love Brioni as your own.

—Rose

And Orla has loved me as her own all these years, brought me into her family and cared for me, nurtured and protected and cherished me.

All of the O’Sullivans have.

My real family.

In the days leading up to Liam’s wedding, I come to terms with the fact that I’ll have to attend. I’ll be there to support him in his marriage, just like I promised. That was the goal of our arrangement all along, for Liam to find his proper wife. I’ve dedicated myself to that, and I’ll see it through.

I know that I’m strong enough to handle it. As empty as I feel, I’m still able to get out of bed in the mornings, to be productive at work, to cook and clean up after myself. I’m in grief, but I’m not my mam.

As I set the stew pot upside down on the drying rack, I take a moment of small pride in myself. These dripping dishes are proof that I’m strong enough to cope, to stay when others might have left.

To stay.

The realization hits me all at once. Then I’m pulling on mismatched shoes, stumbling out the door without a coat, cutting across our yards so fast that Gus doesn’t have time to get out of his car.

The front door’s unlocked, and I find Orla and Declan in the dining room. I stammer my apology for interrupting their dinner, but both of them wave it away, inviting me to sit down and join them.

I remain standing. I’m strong enough to stay with Liam, with all sides of him. I enjoy the thrill of Liam’s darkness, the shiver it sends down my spine, the way it makes me feel that much closer to him. Because I know the true him, and I love the true him.

His parents look at me expectantly.

“I want to make this work,” I tell them. “All of it.”

Orla’s face breaks into a smile, and beside her, Declan nods.