"I don't smile." But even as I say it, I feel my lips twitch, remembering Hannah's enthusiasm two days ago when our last dinner party went off so well. She’d turned on music and danced around the room. She was so beautiful and happy and sexy…
I shake off the memory. "We're making progress. That's all."
“What are you talking about?” Blaise joins the impromptu brotherly intervention.
“How Ash doesn’t look and act like an asshole as much,” Flint jokes.
“Flint.” Lucy chastises. “Personally, I like the new Ash.”
Fucking hell. Is it that noticeable?
"Don't you all have work to do?" I growl. “I believe you’ve all assigned me to the corner because I lack charm. You can’t expect my wife to do all the work for you.”
Flint laughs as he knocks back his drink, then takes Lucy’s arm and heads to the younger Russo.
Blaise rolls his eyes. “Come on, Jenna, Mrs. Byrnes is interested in gardening tips.”
I’m left with Phoenix who leans toward me. "It's okay to admit she makes you happy. We're glad to see you coming back to life."
"I'm the same as always. Hannah's useful for our plans. Nothing more." I feel like shit saying that. It’s not just them I need to believe it, but myself as well.
“You’re a fucker sometimes, you know that? God, I hope you don’t talk to her like that.”
There’s the guilt again, because of course I have. But he doesn’t understand, can't understand. Being happy means being vulnerable. And I won't put another woman I care about at risk.
“Shouldn’t you be showing off how you’re a mini-Dad?”
"Whatever you say, Brother." He claps my shoulder. "But that scowl doesn't fool us anymore."
I glare at his retreating back, irritated by how easily he and Flint and Blaise see through me. It doesn't matter if Hannah makes me smile. Doesn't matter if waking up next to her feels like coming home. The mission is what counts. Everything else is just… temporary.
Two days later,I’m in my home office and catch myself humming the song Hannah was dancing to the other night after another successful party. So successful that the Rileys are coming back for dinner and are open to doing more than supporting our takedown of Kean by forming a business partnership.
I pick up my whisky and listen, hearing Hannah in the other room talking to our staff about tonight’s dinner. I have no worries, even though my brothers won’t be here. I know Hannah will provide the charm and warmth, while I can offer them protection and profits.
I realize, quite suddenly, that I feel… content. That feeling is, as expected, followed by guilt. I don’t deserve to feel this way while Meghan lies cold in her grave. Her face appears in my mind, but the memory of her smile blurs around the edges, replaced by Hannah's bright laughter and fierce determination.
I press my fingers into my eye sockets. "I'm sorry," I whisper to Meghan's ghost. Sorry for finding joy in Hannah's presence. Sorry that Meghan doesn’t occupy my mind as much as she did before.
Hannah swept into my life with her red hair and stubborn optimism, giving me space to wallow in darkness but showing me light that more and more, I want to live in. Hannah's influence is undeniable. She's not just helping with the families. She's helping me heal.
I take a shaky breath, running my fingers over the worn photo of Meghan I keep in my wallet. "I'll always love you. But Hannah… she’s giving me life.” The admission feels like both betrayal and release.
Hannah's footsteps approach the study, and despite my guilt, my heart lifts at the sound. “The Rileys will be here in a minute.”
I rise from the desk, running my fingers through my hair to make it presentable, and then adjust my tie.
“You look handsome.”
She says it matter-of-factly, not like a wife lusting after her husband. It bugs me a little bit, but Hannah is nothing if not steadfast in her focus. When I need space, she gives it. When I say she can’t love me, she withholds it. When I say I can’t love her, she endures it. She’s a fucking saint.
She reaches up and readjusts my tie. “Everything is going to be perfect.”
I catch her wrist, squeezing gently. "The Rileys are on the edge of joining us. If they sense any weakness?—”
"They won’t because we won’t show any." She smooths my lapels. "I've got Mrs. Riley, Margaret, seated next to me. Word is she's the real power behind their empire."
“Imagine that. A powerful woman at the heart of the family. Sort of like you.”
