Dangerous:Made & Broken (A British Bad Boy Romance)(25)

I looked up at him, suddenly feeling less eager about this whole  arrangement. Who on earth would make Blaine Steel seem so on edge? Was  there some rival mafia trying to encroach on their territory or what?  "What do you mean?"

Again, he didn't answer me, but once again he put his hand on my  shoulder to lead me to to what I assumed was the door to the conference  room. My suspicions were confirmed when we stepped through into a room  dominated by a large, oval table. Four chairs were set out, two of them  empty. In the two closest to the door and with their backs to us sat two  male figures, waiting.

When the one furthest to the right turned around to look at us over his shoulder, my heart dropped.

No. No, no, no.

I fought back the bile that rose in my throat when I recognized him. As  if on cue, the man at his side turned, and I had to bite my tongue to  swallow a whimper.

The last time I'd seen my father and my eldest brother, Michael, they  had threatened me with torture if I didn't marry the mafia son they'd  picked out for me.

The time before that …

It was only Blaine's hand on my shoulder that allowed me to stumble to  my chair and sit down as if someone had cut the strings that held me  upright. And there they sat, two of the three men who haunted my  nightmares even to this day. Right in front of me, with only the table  between us for protection. I clutched at the chair's armrests until my  knuckles turned white and focused on breathing deeply and evenly.

They couldn't hurt me. Blaine wouldn't let them. They couldn't hurt me, they couldn't hurt me …

"I understand from the briefing my father gave that we are to hash out a  deal involving the transportation of goods between Ireland and England,  correct?" Blaine said from his seat by my side. He flipped open the  folder in front of him, all business and in control. If I hadn't been  fighting tooth and nail to keep my looming panic attack at bay, I might  have appreciated the change to his normal persona.

"Yeah, that's correct, son."

My father's lilting drawl made a shudder run up the length of my spine. Just breathe. Just breathe.

"I was unaware that your connections in Dublin ran deep enough for such  an arrangement? I see no problem with hashing out a deal for the Belfast  port, but do you have the necessary hold further South?" Blaine said.

"With your help, we can secure Dublin no problem," my father rumbled.  "That's part of what you got your wife for, isn't it? In return for your  family's backing, you got my only daughter."

I could sense Blaine looking at me, but I was too busy staring at the table to return his gaze.

He was silent for two long seconds, and then I felt a light tap on my  left hand that was still clutching at the arm rest. "If you'll excuse us  for a moment."

I found the strength to get up when he put his hand on my shoulder, as  if he somehow transferred some of his strength into my muscles by the  warmth of his touch. I didn't see anything but the carpeted floor in  front of me as he led me back out of the room, past the secretary and  into the quiet hallway by the elevator.

Only when we stopped did he take his hand off my shoulder again.

"What did they do?"

"What do you mean?" I could only manage to raise my voice slightly above  a whisper, as if my ingrained terror constricted my vocal cords. It  didn't matter, though; the hallway was so silent he heard me just fine.

"The second you saw who we were meeting, you started shaking like a  leaf. And you look like you're about to barf. Add a hideous, white dress  and you look exactly like you did in the church. You're obviously  terrified. So I'm asking you, what did they do?" There was a low,  threatening quality to Blaine's voice and a tone of no-nonsense, but I  shook my head. I couldn't. No one could know.         

     



 

"I can't," I finally managed to croak. I looked up from the floor to  plead with him, to make him stop pushing, but the sight of anger in his  eyes made the tears I'd managed to keep at bay until now finally spill  over.

"You can't? You're a goddamn shrink. Talking about whatever makes you  this scared should be the one thing you're good at, woman. Fuck, you  know about my shit. You know my demons are there because of my family.  You think I've told anyone else anything about that? So tell me what had  you clutching at that poor chair like it was a life rack just at the  sight of you Dad and brother. You owe me that much."

"I owe you?" Something about his mounting anger and the darkness in his  gaze as he stared me down made the dam inside me break. And for the  first time in my life, it all came spilling out. "I owe you to tell you  what they did to me? You want to know, the guy who had to threaten me  the second you'd let me see just a glimpse of the real you?"

"Yes. I want to know." He kept his voice low, despite my shrieking, but  the air of command was unmistakable, even through my current meltdown.

"Fine! I'll tell you, and then you can get to roll your eyes and call me  a weak little victim and go in there and make your deal with those  monsters! It's all about the business, I know how it goes." I pulled up  at my shirt with shaking hands, ripping frantically at the fabric until  my scarred stomach was on display. "My brothers held me down while my  loving father cut me. That's what they did. Because I'd jeopardized the  business. I was eighteen, and I tried to free a man they had tied up in  the basement and beaten bloody. He owed them money, you see.

"They caught me doing it and made me watch while they shot out his  kneecaps. And then they gave me these. I begged them to stop. Michael  laughed at me and my father …  my father said that's what I got for being  weak, and now everyone would see me for the stupid little victim I was.  They didn't stop until I passed out. Are we even now, Blaine? Does that  make you feel better for having given me just a glimpse of what you  fear?"

Blaine stood silently in front of me as I finished my tirade. His eyes  were dark like thunderclouds and laser focused on my scars, but the rest  of his face was impassive, as if carved from rock.

I let my shirt drop down, shielding the scars from his view, and wiped  my eyes with my free hand. I was still shaking from the emotional  outburst, but behind the shock of it all, there was an odd sense of  relief of finally having shared it all with someone. Even if that  someone was Blaine.

Then, to my utter surprise, Blaine cupped my cheek with his warm hand,  his thumb wiping my tears away with a surprisingly gentle stroke. He  still didn't say anything, but in his darkened gaze I saw the last thing  I'd expected from him: fury-on my behalf.

I closed my eyes and let the simple gesture calm me. Gradually, my heart  rate slowed and my breathing evened out until I was once again in full  control of myself.

"If there's one thing you're not, Mira, it's weak." Blaine's voice was  quiet and as dark as his gaze had been. Then he removed his hand from my  cheek and I felt him take a step back, putting more space between us.  "Come back in with me. Show them that they haven't broken you."

I gritted my teeth and nodded. As much as I wanted to curl up in a  corner and cry until they'd left, I knew they would think me the weak  victim they'd always thought me to be if I did. And I didn't want that. I  wanted to be strong, not for them, but for myself. If I could do this,  then maybe I could finally start healing.

Blaine turned around and led the way back to the conference room. He  waited for me to sit down, but instead of following suit, he leaned in  over the table, resting on his knuckles.

I looked up at him in surprise, my eyes widening at the absolute, stone  cold rage in his gaze as he leveled my father and brother with a  murderous stare.

"Now you listen to me very, very carefully, Clery. There will be no more  deals made between my family and yours. Not one. Any arrangements made  in the past are null and void. You understand?"

My father gaped up at Blaine, his mouth working to form some form of  protest no doubt, but the shock didn't allow for any actual words to be  produced. By his side, Michael had gone completely pale-Blaine's anger  was a near physical presence in the room, and terrifying beyond belief,  even for me who wasn't in its direct line of fire.

"You have twenty-four hours to get the fuck out of London and back to  Belfast, or I swear I will gut every one of you like fish."         

     



 

"Now you listen, son!" my father protested, finally finding his voice as  he got to his feet. "You have no authority to make such threats. We  have an agreement with your father, and you can't-"

"Did I not make myself clear?" Blaine hissed. "Get out of my city, now. I  am a Steel, and trust me when I say that I have all the authority I  need to slaughter every last member of your miserable little gang."

"You've made a grave mistake today, boy," my father growled. He grabbed  Michael by the shoulder and my brother got up from his chair too,  despite looking like he was about to wet himself. "And you." He pointed  his finger at me, and it took all I had not to shrink back from the  absolute hatred in his eyes. "You're gonna regret the day you betrayed  your family, you little whore."