Chapter Four

Brynna

" W here the fuck have you been?" Niall clamps a hand down on my arm as soon as I step back inside the ballroom, his grip like iron. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"I stepped out for some air," I mutter, tugging discreetly against his hold as people glance in our direction. It's not technically a lie. "Is that a crime?"

His dark scowl tells me that, apparently, it is a crime. I'm supposed to be a good little girl and do as I'm told. Except…I don't feel like playing that role tonight. I haven't felt like playing it in years. He and my father have yet to notice.

"What did he want?" Niall demands.

"To piss you off?" I shrug, my heart hammering against my ribcage as I try to wriggle my way out of telling him the truth. "Judging by the look on your face, I'd say it worked, wouldn't you?"

Niall's dark glower grows even darker. Impressive, honestly.

"Can you let go of my arm now, or do you plan to drag me through the gala like a recalcitrant child? Everyone is already."

I'm not kidding about that. Everyone in the general vicinity is focused on us, leaning in as if trying to hear what we're discussing. Because of Naz? Do I even need to ask? Of course it's because of Naz.

He strolled through the doors, set his sights on me, and set the entire place on fire with rumors and speculation.

"Shit." My brother immediately releases his hold on me, his expression softening with regret. For all his flaws, he isn't a bad man. He's a complicated one. A criminal, yes. A hedonist, absolutely. A pain in my ass, only every day of the week. But he means well. He worries. I guess he has plenty of reason for that. "I'm sorry. I'm an asshole. Did I hurt you?"

"No." I pause for a beat. "But you are getting on my nerves."

A tiny smile flickers at his lips. "So Naz didn't do any damage, then?" He scrutinizes my expression, genuine worry in his gaze. "You're okay?"

"I'm fine, Niall." I roll my eyes, guilt flickering through me. I hate that I'm lying even as I do it…but I do it anyway. "Honestly, you worry too much. What was he going to do in a room full of witnesses? He wanted to annoy you and Dad. He succeeded. As soon as he accomplished his mission, he disappeared."

I'm no longer sure that's what he wants at all. He meant it when he said he wants me. I'm just not entirely sure why he wants me so badly. The rational half of my brain screams that it's exactly what I suspect—I'm some pawn in whatever game he's playing with my father. But the other half rebels against the thought. That half, stupidly, wants a reason to trust him. It wants a reason to fall into whatever this fascination is. It wants to believe he wants me simply for me.

The way he looks at me is electric, pulsing with something I've never felt. I like it a little too much. And that's dangerous. He's dangerous—and I don't mean for obvious reasons.

I'm trying to carve out a little independence for myself. He's a threat to that in far too many ways. If I tell my brother that he kissed me, it'll fan the flames of war. And if I tell Niall that I liked it?

Well, I'll never see the light of day again. He and my father will have me surrounded by guards before I can even blink. No more freedom, no more school, no more tiny little life outside of their world.

Everything I've fought for will disappear, and I'll be trapped like a rat in a cage all over again. It's not a risk I'm willing to take when I only just slipped out of my cage. Whatever Naz wants…I just have to ensure he doesn't get it.

Doubt swirls through me for the thousandth time since he left me standing on the terrace. He's…alluring. Tempting in a way that's terrifying.

And I've never been good at resisting temptation.

It's precisely why I had to have this damn dress fitted yesterday when it fit fine six months ago.

Niall snorts. "As if he's capable of slinking off without causing problems."

My brows furrow. "What does that mean?"

"He got into a fight with Adrian Lombardi before he stormed out."

"He got into a fight?" I blink wide eyes, startled. "Why? When?"

"Five minutes ago." Niall nods toward the bar. I follow his gaze, watching in shock as a member of the waitstaff sweeps broken glass into a dustpan while another straightens overturned barstools. "No idea what it was about. 'Da is talking to Adrian, trying to sort it out, see if he can find anything useful."

"Useful?" I glance back at my brother, my brow furrowing.

He shoots me a smirk, his eyes glittering with intent. "Do you really think we're going to let him get away with what he did tonight, deirfiúr ? No one messes with you, least of all Nazario fucking Leyva."

My stomach churns, anxiety pulsing through me. This is exactly what I don't want. Why is this world always tit for tat, you hurt me, so I hurt you? It's fucking exhausting.

"It was just a dance, Niall," I say quietly. "He didn't do anything. He was a perfect gentleman."

"Right." Niall snorts. "As if the prick even knows the definition."

"Niall!" I glower at him. "I'm serious. He didn't do anything. He was nice to me. That's it." I glance back toward the bar, away from my brother. "He said he liked my dress."

"Jesus Christ," Niall growls, spinning me around to face him with a hand on my arm. "You like him."

"What? No, of course not," I lie hastily, pasting an innocent look on my face—the same one he and my father never bother to look past. Just like they never look past the fake smiles and false reassurance that I'm perfectly fine, fine, fine. Managing them is second nature at this point. It's all I've done for years. And frankly, it's exhausting.

I'm tired of being the perfect little princess who does as she's told and has no dreams beyond placating her overprotective family. I'm tired of pretending I was ever her to begin with. I'm just…not. I want more .

Maybe I'm not doing as good a job managing my brother as I thought because his emerald eyes narrow on my face, his gaze assessing. "You know you can talk to me, right?" he says softly.

Ha. Not about this, I can't. If I tell him the truth, he'll lose his mind. Family is everything to Niall. And the fact that I liked the way it felt when one of the family's biggest enemies had his hands on me? Well, he'll never understand that.

"I know," I say instead of telling him any of that. "But there's nothing to talk about, Niall. Nazario was trying to get a rise out of you and Dad, and it clearly worked. But he was nice to me, and I appreciated it. It was a refreshing change from the way these little power struggles usually go." I shoot him a pointed glance. "Would you prefer another kidnap attempt?"

"Jesus," he growls, a storm roiling in his eyes. "Don't even joke about that, Brynna."

"I'm not," I say softly. "I'm just pointing out that, all things considered, asking me to dance was the least of what he could have done. We've been there before."

Niall mutters a curse, scrubbing a shaking hand down his face, and I feel like a jerk for even bringing it up. But I'm right, and he can't deny that. We've been down that road before. It's the only reason I bite my tongue when he and our father are so overbearingly overprotective. The target painted on my back hasn't grown any smaller over the years. I've just gotten better at avoiding it.

"Can we get out of here now?" I ask quietly. "I'd really, really like to get out of these shoes."

"Fuck, yes." Niall drops his hand back to his side, jerking his chin in a nod. "Let's go."

I exhale a relieved breath, following behind him as he forges a path through the crowd for me. I don't miss the way they watch me go. Nor do I miss their whispers. Niall may believe what I said about Naz, but these people clearly don't.

Thanks to his attention, the target on my back is now bigger than ever. Lovely.

"What are you reading?"

I glance up from my book to find my father standing at the door to my room, still dressed in the tux he wore to the gala. He looks out of place among the lacy throw pillows and pale purple fabrics, like an aging warrior.

" War and Peace ." I roll onto my back and then sit upright. "Did you just get home?"

"Mmhmm." He steps into my room. " War and Peace , huh? What do you think?"

"I've read it before," I say quietly, placing my bookmark between the pages to mark my spot. "It's fascinating."

"I always thought so, too." He leans against the wall. " One must be cunning and wicked in this world ," he quotes softly.

Of course that's the line that resonates with him. He's both of those things. In spades.

" We love people not so much for the good they've done us, but as for the good we've done them ," I retort, making him smile.

"You always have seen the world far more like your mother did than like me or your brother do." His eyes crinkle at the corners. "You keep the two of us honest."

Is there honesty in what they do? I'm not sure. But my father isn't a bad man any more than my brother is. He's just a man. And like most men, he's full of flaws. But he's not entirely flawed. I know he loves me and Niall. He'd do anything for us. And I know he does what he can to balance the scales, to put just as much good into the world as he does bad. Does guilt drive him? Perhaps. But at least he tries.

Does Naz? For some reason, I think he plays by a different set of rules entirely. He lives by his own code. I'm just not entirely sure what that code is.

"How was the rest of the gala?" I ask my father, trying to distract myself. It's late, I'm tired, and a certain Colombian drug lord has occupied far too much of my mind already tonight.

I've thought myself in circles, trying to sort out why he's so fascinating to me. And I've come up with nothing but a lingering headache.

"It was fine." My father's brows furrow as he stares at me. "That's what I want to talk to you about."

Great. I should have known I wasn't going to get away without a conversation about Naz with him, too.

"Are you all right, Brynna?" he asks, unable to hide the worry in his eyes.

"I'm perfectly fine, Dad," I sigh. "It was just a dance."

How many more times am I going to have to tell that particular lie before I manage to convince myself that what happened tonight meant nothing?

"Are you sure? You know you can talk to me, right?"

"I'm positive." I force a bright smile and lie to him, exactly like I lied to Niall. "Nazario was polite. We danced. He complimented my dress. And then I went outside to get some air and he did whatever Nazario does. That's it."

He studies me in silence for several long moments. He seems troubled, as if there's far more going on here than I know. "Perhaps we should reconsider letting you roam campus alone. At least for a little while."

I carefully set my book aside, trying to stay calm as my heart thuds against my breastbone. "You promised you wouldn't do that."

"I know." Guilt flickers in his gaze. "But things have changed."

"Because Nazario asked me to dance?" I cross my arms, scowling at him. "Like I told Niall, he only did it to get under your skin. And it clearly worked if you're trying to change our agreement about college now. I'm twenty-one, not twelve. I don't need a bodyguard just to get a freaking education."

"No, not because of the dance," he says, his gaze locked on my face. "Because Leyva attacked Lombardi after he mentioned that he might ask you to dance."

"I…" I stutter, caught off guard. "I'm sure I had nothing to do with it. The last time I was forced to deal with Adrian Lombardi, I considered resorting to violence, too. He tends to bring out that quality in most people."

The man is an infuriating monster. He doesn't care about anyone or anything but himself. My father knows this just as well as I do. He's wanted to hit him a time or two himself.

Crap . Did Naz really attack him because he suggested dancing with me? Doubtful. He's too controlled for that. But did Lombardi say something about me to provoke Naz into attacking him? Probably.

What was it Naz said before he walked away?

Don't let anyone put their hands on you, Irish. I won't allow them to keep them if they do.

This is…not good. It's not good at all. And judging by the look on my father's face, he isn't buying my explanation, either. He knows Naz is up to something.

"Nazario is dangerous, A stór ," he says quietly. "He lies as easily as he breathes. He'll tell you a pretty story and then destroy you just to punish me."

"Punish you for what?" I ask. "What did you do that has the two of you on the verge of war?"

"It doesn't matter," he says wearily, pushing away from the wall. "What matters is you and your brother." He swallows, worry burning bright in his eyes. "I promised your mother to keep you both safe. But Niall is too fucking much like me, A stór . I can't stop him from putting himself in harm's way. I can't risk anything happening to you, however. She'd never forgive that."

"Dad," I say softly, my heart clenching in a vise. Even now, a decade later, he still mourns her. "Nothing is going to happen to me."

"Promise me that you'll stay away from Leyva, Brynna," he demands, reaching out to stroke my hair like he always did when I was a little girl. "Help an old man rest easy."

"Of course I'll stay away from Nazario Leyva." The promise scalds my tongue as it spills from my lips, searing into my mind with agonizing clarity. Stay away from Nazario Leyva. It's such a simple vow, and yet it feels like a betrayal—of myself, of the inexplicable pull I feel toward him, of the electric thrill that raced through me when he had his hands on my body, his amber eyes boring into mine.

But I force the words out anyway. Because disappointing my father, worrying him further after everything our family has been through, is impossible.

I'm still trapped in the facade of that perfect little princess. And I'm the one holding the damn doors of my cage closed.

But when my father smiles, I smile back, pretending that promise didn't hurt at all, that every cell in my body didn't rebel against giving it. I smile until he strolls out, confident that I'll be his obedient little daughter and keep my word.

I'm not nearly as confident. I think Naz may have embedded himself into my very being with the brush of his lips against mine tonight, stamping his dark temptation so deeply into my psyche that nothing will ever get him out again now.

And I don't have the first clue what to do about that.