23. Gia

It takesthree days on the damn boat to get anywhere.

Which means, disconcertingly, I have absolutely no idea where we are. I'm not an old-timey sailor. I can't read the stars or the currents or whatever else they used to do in order to not be totally lost at sea.

Because that's what I am right now.

Lost.

One hundred percent, completely and totally, lost.

The fact that I'm harboring a little stowaway makes everything a little worse.

The fact that Liam MacAntyre, the long-lost twin brother of Kieran (and honestly I'm assuming there is either a third triplet or sibling to deal with at this point) has quietly insisted, over and over again, that we get married, makes it even worse.

Every time I think about Liam, or him asking me to marry him, or any number of things associated with that whole situation, there's a Gordian knot of emotion in my chest that makes me pretty sure I'm going to have a panic attack.

I can't think about Sal.

If I think about Sal…

The panic attack is something I can't have. Not here. Not when I'm trying to survive.

Not when someone very small, and very much inside my body, is also counting on me to survive.

When we finally get off of the stupid boat, it's not anywhere crazy like Florida or the Bahamas. The coastline is rocky and cold. Like, really cold. There's ice and mountains and the tiniest, barest scrap of green.

"Where the hell are we?" I say to Liam as he helps me onto the dock.

"You know full well I can't tell you that, love."

"Don't call me love," I snap immediately.

The words send that pit of terror swirling inside me.

Liam shrugs. "Well. Suffice to say that we're not anywhere your devoted bodyguard will find you, nor will any of his brothers, or your own. We have time and space here to discuss, so that you and I can arrive at a solution that's palatable to all."

I shoot him a glance. "Palatable?"

"Acceptable?"

Something about that makes me cringe. I can say many things about my relationship with Sal, but none of them are that our relationship is palatable.

Electric.

Thrilling.

Shocking.

Comforting.

Magical…

I shut the thoughts down. It doesn't matter what Sal and I had.

Whatever I am doing here, with Liam? That's reality.

The reality is, I might need to marry this guy to survive.

My stomach clenches.

"You alright then?" Liam's voice weaves around my ears.

"Fine," I grumble.

"Lookin" a mite green around the gills again."

"Yeah well. I'm on yet another fishy coastline."

"What's with you and fish, hmm?"

My unborn child has an extreme aversion. "Are we going to go somewhere or just sit here and freeze?"

Liam offers his arm to me, and I take it.

The coastline is… well, it's not pretty. Not like the rolling green hills of Ireland.

The rocks are dark, and everything smells like bird shit and fish.

There are areas of moss gathered on the rocks around the pier, and a small road winds away to the north of us, leading to a disturbingly small town.

The buildings hug the ground like a stiff wind would take them away.

Or like they've weathered much, much worse, and they are afraid to let go.

As we walk down the road, it's clear that we aren't alone. A small crowd of people is gathered on the road in front of the town.

Rowan, surprisingly, waves at the small crowd of people gathered in front of us. A language that I've never heard before in my life pours out of his mouth.

Slack-jawed, I stand back.

"Oh, that's a new one for you?" James sneers at me.

That guy is about to catch the first knife I can toss in his stomach. "You know what, James the Giant Shithead? I'm humble enough to admit that I don't know every language in the world."

Sal might, though.

Deep breath.

Shut that down, Gia.

If I can figure out what language they're speaking, then I can get a clue about where we are. I listen in, trying to hear anything that I recognize…

I've got nothing.

It's not even remotely close to any language that I've ever heard.

Shit.

Okay, Gia. Where have you not been?

Ugh. It could be any number of indigenous central American languages. Any number of non-European languages. Fuck, now that I think about it, I really only know two language groups.

Let's hope you get your dad's gift for language, little one.

Ohhhh no.

My eyes are getting hot. I rub my hands against them as tears press, rather insistently, against the edges of my focus.

No. No Gia, keep your shit together.

I don't even recognize myself right now. I couldn't talk my way out of a wet paper bag, let alone get back to Elio and my people.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

"Gia. This way," Liam says, gesturing with his shoulder.

Meekly, I follow.

Meekly.

I am never fucking meek. When I get to wherever we're going, I'm going to absolutely lay into him. Liam thinks that I've been subdued, but I haven't.

I'm Gia fucking Rossi.

I don't do meek.

Liam leads me to a little shack that's situated, mercifully, above all the fish smells. The air is marginally clearer, but I still can't see shit. There's nothing but snow and ice and rock and that sad, spongy looking moss grass.

Iceland, maybe?

I would guess northern Scotland but I think there's more people in Scotland than this weird, scrappy little village. Could be Canada, but I don't think we were on the boat long enough to get to Canada.

Where the hell are we?

Liam opens the door to the little shack and I duck inside. At some point, Rowan and James have disappeared, and I'm alone with Liam.

I look around. There's a pretty nice couch, what I assume is a bedroom, and a small kitchen. The furnishings look kind of vaguely Nordic, like something that Ikea might have sold, but they're clean.

Nothing smells like fish.

Blissfully.

I zoom over to the couch and sit. "So, now that we're here, do you want to have your wicked way with me?"

"Ah, well. I thought we could talk about the offer I made you on the boat."

"That didn't seem so much like an offer as it was a demand, but I'm interested to hear what you've got."

Liam smirks. "You really are something, Gia Rossi."

"Don't forget it," I say with a wink.

"I won't anytime soon."

Liam settles on to the couch across from me. "So. Like I said. I aim to make you my wife."

"Wow. And you're not even going to buy me a drink first?"

He chuckles. "I've a feeling that many men have bought you drinks, and yet none have made you theirs."

Sal.

I shake that off. Sal wasn't mine. I'm not his.

Except…

A strange montage of our time pretending to be husband and wife flashes before my eyes. Sure, I wasn't Sal's wife.

But I pretended to be.

And I didn't hate it.

"No," I say cautiously. "But have you considered that fact has a lot less to do with the fact that no one gave me an offer, and more with the fact that I just don't want to be married?"

"I'm afraid, Gia, that I'm about to make you an offer that you can't refuse."

My instincts hear his voice drop into something more sinister, and ice skates down my spine. "Do tell," I murmur.

Liam leans back. "What do you know of my brother?"

"He makes a better dead man than a living one?"

I'm curious how that will land.

Liam breathes slowly, but he doesn't look mad. I'm under the impression that very little ruffles him, which is a pretty stark difference from his admittedly very volatile twin.

"I'll let you have that one, Gia. But I won't suffer much disrespect for the dead."

"Oh? I'm sorry that you two were close."

"We weren't," he says sharply.

That gets my attention. "Why the sense of fraternal duty, then?"

"Family's family," Liam says from between clenched teeth. "You, of all people, should know and understand that."

I nod. "Fair."

"And, it's not right to talk poorly of the dead," he adds.

Fascinating. It appears that Liam is just a tad superstitious.

I wonder if I can work with that.

"Well. I see what you're saying, but he kidnapped my very favorite sister-in-law and scared the shit out of her, tried to rape her, and kept ranting about some kind of deal that his… well, your father made. Does that about sum up what I know?"

"Aye," Liam's eyes darken. "It appears, though, that dear old dad's legacy runs a little more deep than either Kieran or I had imagined."

"Explain," I say crisply.

"Dad ran Ireland," Liam says softly. "But he was a family man at heart. Or, he was, until our mum passed."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I say automatically. I know how terrible it is to lose a parent.

Liam nods. "After her death, we were sent to separate homes. I was raised by my uncle Sean. Kieran, by Da, since he was older and Da wanted him to take over the business anyway."

"And your other sibling…" I prompt.

Liam shakes his head. "No, darlin.' I can't give you that unless you're my wife."

Interesting. He also wants to protect his sibling, whoever that is.

I guess I can understand that as well.

"Okay. So. Kieran and dear old dad," I prompt.

Liam nods. "Aye. Losing mum changed him. A lot. I'd say that dad became right cracked, and he decided somewhere along the line that in order for one of us to inherit the empire, we needed to be married. To a good girl, in a good family."

"Ah," I nod, understanding dawning. "Hence, Caterina."

Liam nods. "Good girl. Good family. Someone whose family was in a position to be controlled. They made that marriage contract before the De Luca's had any children, so they didn't know how long they'd wait before a girl came ‘round."

"Was it the De Luca father? Or the grandfather?"

Liam tilts his head. "Does it matter, love?"

Love.

I hate how casually he throws that around.

I guess it is kind of a relief, though. I know that he doesn't mean it. It's like seeing his cards on the table. Liam doesn't love me, but he's willing to flatter me.

That's something.

"It does," I say quietly. In the back of my mind, I still have so many questions about who planted the attack on our parents that day.

I'm beginning to suspect that I know exactly who.

Liam shrugs. "It doesn't. We are, however, in a position where I need to inherit this empire. I'm no' going anywhere. Kieran royally fucked this up for us, and I'm here to undo it. But I can't do that, Gia, unless I have a wife."

Everything clicks into place. "That's why Kieran kidnapped Caterina."

"And it got him killed."

My eyebrows skyrocket. "You don't think this is going to get you killed?"

"I think that I'm in the presence of a much better negotiator than Caterina De Luca."

He doesn't know her at all, but that's not the point.

Liam's words bite at me like mosquitos.

He leans forward. One of his hands slips into mine, and I stare at it.

Everything in me wants to pull back, but I can read the room.

I know that would be a bad idea.

Liam's hand isn't terrible to hold. It's rough, and strong.

"What were you doing before this?" I blurt.

I'm curious about why his hand has calluses on it.

Liam gives me a little quirk of a smile. "I'm a farrier."

"No shit," I laugh.

"Aye. Have my own business in the countryside near Cork. Been doin' it since Uncle Sean taught me how."

"A farrier. Well, it explains the hands, I guess."

"Were you worried they'd be too rough for you, princess?"

I hate the teasing lilt to his voice.

"No," I say idly. "Just curious."

"Well. Ask anything you want. If I can answer it for you, I will."

He hasn't moved his hand. "I'm more interested in you finishing up our discussion with the point," I say softly.

Liam nods. His thumb rubs over my hand. "I'll no' mistreat you, Gia," he says softly. "I'm a decent man. I've done what I need to in order to get to where I am, and redeem my brother in the eyes of the business, but I'll not harm you. I'll not make you suffer. I know well the worth of the woman in my house, and I'd treat you like my equal. Being married to me wouldn't be so bad, and we'd both get something we want out of it."

"What, exactly, do I get out of it?"

His eyes gleam. "Power. The ability to help me run the organization. More than you'll get in your brother's shadow, that's for sure," he murmurs. "You'd be my partner, Gia Rossi. My equal. My counterpart. So. What do you say?"

I shut my eyes. Sal never treated me like an equal.

He treated me like a fucking queen.

I nod, aware that I'm swimming with sharks in blood-soaked water. I gently slip my hand from his. "I need some time to think about it," I whisper.

Liam gives me a half-formed smile. "I'd expect you'd say that."

He stands. "The cottage is yours. I'll give you a radio, but be aware, you've no idea where in the world you are. You've no resources, no way to talk to the people to sweet talk your way into an escape. Rowan, James, and I are the only ones who know this place, and we're the only ones who know how to get off of it. You can't hide. You can't leave. Plotting to do so will be fatal," he says in a low voice.

"Romantic," I say dryly as I blink up at him.

He shrugs. "Romance is not for people like you and I, unfortunately. Besides, I can offer you much more than romance. I can offer you power. Money. Stability. All things that I think you, being a very practical woman, know and care about more than romance, yeah?"

I don't answer that.

Liam nods. "Time it is then. I'll send a woman up from the village with a radio. Let me know when you're ready to talk, then."

With a squeak, the door to the cabin shuts. Liam's gone.

Then, and only then, do I let myself do the thing that I've been dying to do since the word wife escaped Liam's lips.

I put my head on my hands.

I take a deep breath.

And I let the tears that I've been holding back come roaring out.