Tarnished Throne: An Enemies to Lovers Arranged Marriage Dark Irish Mafia Romance (Reckless Reign Trilogy Book 3) by Kristen Luciani

Author:Kristen Luciani [Luciani, Kristen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-11-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Kyla

Her gray eyes tangle with mine from across the crowded café, and even though I can still hear the tortured and tearful voice in my splintered memories, it in no way matches the ominous glimmer in her deep-set gaze now as she focuses on me.

Patrick’s warnings loop through my mind.

I’ve seen what desperate kids can do when their backs are against the wall…

Be smart.

Be vigilant.

I shake off the feeling of unease settling into my limbs when I rise to my feet and wave Tarryn over to our table. Patrick busied himself getting coffee so that we could get reacquainted.

After our conversation, I decided against calling Leila at GirlPower. Patrick was probably right. She’s not in scope for them anymore, and it’s up to the people who really give a damn to help Tarryn now.

Although, the question that lingers in the air between us now is…can we?

I rub my hands over my shoulders, watching her walk toward me.

She’s really tall.

I shift in my ballet flats. Last time we met face to face, she’d been sitting so I didn’t know how many inches she actually had on me.

I raise my eyes up to her as she approaches, a tight smile on her face. I reach out to give her an awkward hug because I’m not really sure of the protocol now that we’re not officially working within the parameters of the GirlPower mentorship program.

I get a limp one in return, but chalk it up to the fact that she has no idea how to trust adults after everything her foster parents put her through.

She seems so closed off right now, nothing like the vulnerable girl who called me crying.

“It’s good to see you,” I say, waving my hand toward the empty chair next to me. “Sit down.”

Tarryn pulls out the chair and sinks into it, her lips stretched into a tight line. I swallow hard under her critical stare, willing her to say something.

‘Hello’ would do just fine.

I slowly sit in my own chair, folding my hands in front of me. “Do you want to talk?”

Her harsh gaze is now glossed over by tears threatening to fall at any second, and I berate myself for feeling suspicious of her when she’s obviously so tormented about her situation.

But I don’t try to hug her again.

I just wait for her to speak, to give some indication that she really does want my help.

“M-my foster father found me. He drove to my school and chased me in his car. I was able to get away,” she whispers. “S-so I was afraid to come here in case he was following me again. I wouldn’t want to put you in danger.”

“Tarryn, you don’t have to worry about him anymore. I’m going to help you. We’re going to help you.”

Her eyes narrow. “Who’s we? I told you I don’t want to call Social Services—”

“No, no. I wouldn’t ever blindside you like that. ‘We’ means me and my husband. He runs a program in his old neighborhood, and has a lot of contacts who can help you get a job, food, and a place to live.

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