Ache
1053 Words
Chapter 8
Ache
Lia
I knew I was staring at him.
Aiden had taken a seat beside me on the couch, his large frame dominating the space and making the already minimal distance between us feel nonexistent. I could feel the heat emanating from his body, and it was impossible to ignore.
Ronin settled into the love seat across from my aunt and uncle, gesturing for Oliver to sit beside him. After a brief moment of hesitation, Oliver obeyed. His eyes flicked to me, and I understood the promise in them—a silent threat for what was to come later.
Moira had dragged over an accent chair, planting it next to me, her presence a small comfort amidst the tension.
The past three years hadn’t seemed to age Aiden at all. The only noticeable change was the scruff on his face, now grown into a full, neatly trimmed beard. Meanwhile, I felt like I had aged twenty years in the last three.
There was something about Aiden that had always drawn me to him. Back then, I couldn’t stay away. Now, I had to. This infatuation wasn’t healthy, and besides, I knew where I belonged—thanks to that man.
“Ten minutes,” Moira whispered in my ear, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I turned to her, confusion evident on my face.
“Ten minutes, and if your boyfriend doesn’t stop talking nonsense, Dad—or Ronin—are going to shoot him,” she said matter-of-factly.
I shook my head but couldn’t help silently agreeing with her.
Once Aunt Charlotte had ushered us into the family drawing room and everyone had taken their seats, Oliver had started talking. And talking. And talking. It seemed like he was never going to stop.
“Two minutes,” Aiden murmured, his voice low but clear, without even looking at us.
Of course, the man had been listening.
“I believe, sir, if we could disc—”
“Tell me, Oliver. What made you think it was a good idea to come here?” Uncle Seamus asked, cutting off Oliver mid-sentence as he tried to explain his business plan. The man truly didn’t understand the meaning of ‘the right time and place.’
Since being back in the company of mafia men, Oliver had started to seem even more irritating and annoying than usual. He had once felt like a safe choice—someone I thought was the quiet, sweet, and classically funny type. He had charmed me into this relationship before I knew what was happening and I had fallen hard.
Of course, that was before the abuse started.
“Excuse me?” Oliver said hesitantly, his voice wavering just enough to betray his unease.
“Answer the question,” Aiden taunted from beside me, his tone low and laced with amusement.
Oliver shot Aiden a glare before turning back to my uncle. “Sir, Lia and I agreed it was time to meet her family. When your man here told us that Lia was needed home, she asked me to come along.”
I inwardly cringed. Oliver should have done better research on my family before trying to pull off this charade. His lies wouldn’t fool anyone here, and his comment about Aiden being “one of Uncle Seamus’s men” was going to go over about as well as gasoline on a fire.
I needed to step in before this spiraled out of control.
“I—”
Before I could get a word out, Aiden placed a hand on my thigh, the weight of it immediately silencing me.
The touch sent a jolt up my spine, and the heat from his palm seemed to sear right through the denim of my jeans. I froze, torn between the urge to shove his hand away and the inexplicable pull that had me rooted in place.
No one else seemed to notice the movement—not even Oliver, who remained oblivious, waiting for my uncle’s reply.
“Is that so?” Uncle Seamus said, his voice calm, though the underlying menace was unmistakable. “I would think, if Cordelia truly wanted you to meet her family, she would have told you the necessary information before bringing you here… into the lion’s den.”
The last words came out in a growl, and I felt the tension in the room spike.
Uncle’s sharp gaze shifted to me, lingering on Aiden’s hand, which was still resting on my thigh. “Lia, would you like to tell Oliver who we are?”
The challenge in his tone was clear, but I wasn’t ready for this.
I pushed Aiden’s hand off my thigh with more force than necessary and straightened in my seat, my heart hammering.
I shook my head and remained silent.
I didn’t want him to know anything. I wanted him out of this house—out of my life entirely—but I didn’t want him dead. At least not yet. I couldn’t handle another death on my conscience.
What I wanted was for Oliver to feel the weight of this house, this family, to feel so intimidated that he would pack up and run off into the night.
But I wasn’t naive.
I didn’t know what would happen when Oliver found out about my family’s business. It could go either way, and neither scenario felt safe for me.
My uncle’s expression flickered with disappointment for a brief moment before he quickly schooled it back to neutrality. He gave a short nod, then turned his attention to Aiden.
“Should we get to business before you need to head out?” he asked, his tone brisk.
Aiden gave a single nod in response, and with that, everyone began shuffling out of the room. Oliver didn’t even have a chance to get another word in before he was effectively dismissed.
Aunt Charlotte and Moira latched onto me, pulling me along with them as they chattered about wanting to catch up before heading to bed. I let them guide me, relieved to be away from the tension that lingered in the family room.
That left Oliver behind—with Liam and Niall.
I had no idea what was going to happen in that room, but I was just grateful to be out of it.
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