Plausible Deniability

Niall is hardly home over the next two weeks. He leaves early in the mornings to take care of business, do what needs to be done in the back room of Bobby’s, and comes home late at night. Sometimes drunk, sometimes angry at the world, sometimes both. Those are the nights that frighten Aila the most.

He keeps his hands off of her—won’t even kiss her. He doesn’t come to bed with her.

Aila stares up at the canopy of the bed, hands on Niall’s shoulders, legs around his waist. Everything she’d just felt is gone now. Sighing, she slides her hands to his chest and pushes against him. He blinks owlishly, as if surprised to see her beneath him.

“Where are you?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, rocking into her again, but there is nothing behind the action. A rote movement bearing no emotion.

“I can feel your dick. You aren’t into this. Like, at all. And honestly? It makes me feel really shitty that you can be fucking me and not be hard.”

He sighs, leans down to kiss her, and pulls away. As he tosses the barely-used condom into the bin, Aila sits up and tugs the sheet to her chest. She reaches for his hand once he’s beside her again, only for her breath to catch in her throat when he doesn’t return the gesture. He won’t look her in the eye.

“Love?”

When his gaze finally lands on her face, his eyes are dark. Full of something unrecognisable. She knows the fiery anger, the cold thirst for vengeance, the haggard dull of worry. But this? This is something entirely different. She swallows and whispers his name.

“I... God, Aila, I didn’t want to do it this way. Believe me, I didn’t.”

“Are you—Are you breaking up with me?”

“Will you marry me?”

He... He can’t have asked that. Aila hopes he hasn’t. She stares at him, pleading with any god listening for him to take it back.

“What?”

“You know I went back home this past weekend.” She nods slowly, and he blows out a breath. “Da said if I truly love you, we should get married. And... I hate to admit it, but he was right. Why shouldn’t we?”

“I—I don’t know. Niall, this is—“

He clutches her hand in his, squeezing gently. The doubt in his eyes has faded. The lack of an immediate ‘no’ seems to have bolstered his confidence. “Think about it, darling. We’d show the world we love each other. We’d be by each other’s side for the rest of our lives. It sends a message to the city that we’re a team.”

“So you think we should marry so you can maintain your power.”

“No,” he groans. “I think we should marry because we love each other. The power is only a bonus.”

“I...”

Her mind races. Aila can’t think clearly with him staring at her with such wide, clear eyes. Hope. The proposal came out of nowhere. He wasn’t going to ask, but his father told him he should.

Bobby hates her. Why would this even be a suggestion? Aila is certain it isn’t because of affection for her. He demanded Niall kill her not even a month ago.

“I need to think about it,” she whispers through numb lips, ducking her head when Niall only frowns.

“Okay, darling. I understand.”

Does he, though?

She doesn’t look at him as she tugs her clothes on. He doesn’t speak as she rushes out of the room.

Somehow, Aila sneaks out of the house without alerting anyone. Rain pours from leaden skies, and she resists snorting in amusement. Stormy weather for a storm of indecision. Confusion. She sprints down the road toward the station, quickly putting distance between her and Niall’s question.

He’d actually slept in bed next to her last night. No liquor on his breath, no anger in his touch. They’d fallen asleep after midnight tangled in each other and sated. She’d woken to his warmth, the familiar feeling of ‘home’. They hadn’t moved as they watched the sunrise spreading gold-pink fingers through the windows. Then Niall had to go and ruin the peace by asking that.

And now it’s raining, as if the broken peace brought with it the sudden thunderheads and downpour.

“Holy shit, you’re soaked!” Willow frowns and shoves Aila’s wet hair from her face. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

“Wills, let her get dry first. C’mon, Aila.”

Aila follows Paisley to the room they used to share, and Angel drops a towel onto the bed. Aila shivers, though she isn’t cold. No, it has nothing to do with the late-July thunderstorm and everything to do with the unexpected, decidedly not romantic proposal. It was only a step up from Colton’s.

Once she’s dressed in a pair of Paisley’s pyjama pants and Angel’s fleece sweatshirt, Aila drops onto the couch next to Willow. “He asked me to marry him.”

Silence reigns at the announcement, but Aila doesn’t expect it to last long. Paisley stares at her, blinking owlishly, and Angel gapes with her jaw dropped. Her bowl of dry cereal falls to the floor, though she makes no move to clean up the mess.

“You don’t look exactly happy with that,” Cheyenne says finally.

“I—I don’t know what to say or how to feel. I mean, I love him. So much. But I don’t know if I’m ready to marry him. It just feels too fast, especially after the horrible start we had.”

Paisley clears her throat, crosses the room to sit on Aila’s lap. “Honestly? It probably is. Look at it this way, though. He’s already two steps ahead of Colton. Colt never came to any Junk Nights, and it took that bastard ten years to lock you down. Niall isn’t fucking around like that. He’s scooping you up before you can realise you’re better than he deserves.”

Aila loops her arms around Paisley’s waist, closing her eyes as she struggles to breathe evenly. Her heart continues its rapid rhythm beneath her ribs, pushing fear and panic through her veins. Marrying Niall would be a mistake. If she does, she can’t ever leave him. He could spend the rest of her life letting his anger control him, and she would be forced to endure it.

She can’t see that happening. He’s already shown he is capable of change. The possibility is still there.

Willow pats Aila on the knee. “Do you love him? Can you see a future without him?”

“I haven’t ever tried,” she admits.

“What are you afraid of?”

“I don’t know,” cries Aila, and Paisley leans more securely against her. “Like, Colt was my first everything. Almost everything, anyway. After what he did, it’s hard to trust it won’t happen again. That I’m putting my heart into the right hands.”

Quiet plinks fill the silence left behind. Angel sets her bowl aside, dusts cereal crumbs from her hands, and faces Aila with an uncharacteristic serious expression. Aila peeks around Paisley’s torso and blinks away tears.

“Honey, that isn’t gonna happen. You are. We all saw how he looked at you at Junk Night. We’ve seen everything he’s done for you.”

Not everything, Aila thinks but doesn’t say. Instead, she asks, “So you think I should?”

“I think it doesn’t matter if it’s been a week or a century. If he makes you happy, if he treats you the way you deserve... If he would give his life for you, then I don’t see why marrying him would be such a horrible decision.”

Aila sighs, wiping her cheeks against Paisley’s shirt. “Can I stay here tonight?”

Willow’s hand lands firmly on the back of Aila’s hand. Aila takes it as the ‘Don’t be stupid’ it is and hunkers down into the couch. Maybe her friends are right. Still, she can’t get rid of the doubts.

What if she and Niall aren’t compatible in the long run? Most of their time has been spent ignoring each other, having sex, or her refusing to accept his behaviour. He can be kind—so kind and generous and soft—but she sees far more of his cold, vindictive side than she’d ever thought possible.

From: Aila (12:10)
< I’m gonna stay with the girls for a bit. I just need to think, and you distract me too much.

From: Niall (12:16)
> I understand. I asked a lot of you, and I won’t pressure you into making a decision so quickly .
From: Niall (12:16)
> Just know I love you no matter what you decide.

Three days later, Aila stares up at the manor. The same one that intimidated her so long ago. The one that became home at some point over the past few months. The groundskeeper and his apprentice amble across the lawn, checking for plants that shouldn’t be there, and guards move along the fencing.

“Miss? You may go in.”

Aila startles at the tinny voice coming from the intercom. She thumbs the button, thanking the guard, and steps through the iron gate. The trek up the lane drags on, each step seemingly bringing her backwards. Her words weigh heavily on her tongue.

She’s spent the last three days thinking of what Niall said. The proposal and promise of lifelong love. Saying ‘yes’ means growing comfortable with the realities of what he does. Saying ‘no’ means never holding him again. Aila doesn’t know which is worse.

The only answer she can give came to her in the middle of the night. Now here she stands on the precipice of changing the trajectory of her life forever.

Niall glances up from the table in front of him, frowning when Aila stops in the doorway. He doesn’t speak, only waits for her to break the sudden silence. She clasps her hands in front of her and clears her throat.

“Are you, uh, are you busy?”

Someone snorts, and her head snaps to the left to see Viper sneering. “Obviously we’re busy, so run along, Princess. This doesn’t concern you.”

“Enough.” Niall hasn’t raised his voice, but Viper shrinks back anyway. Niall slowly shifts his gaze from Aila’s face to the other man. “You will never speak to her like that again.”

“Yes, sir.”

Niall raises a brow but turns to Aila. “Is everything okay, darling?”

“Yeah. I just—I just wanted to talk about the other day. It can wait.” She forces a smile as his eyes widen, darken, then he dips his chin.

“I’ll find you as soon as we’re done here.”

Aila swallows against her nerves, nods, and pivots on her heel. As she walks away from the War Room, she hears his cold voice promising Viper will pay for his disrespect. A shiver runs down her spine. She knows what the cost will be.

Robert disregards his duties in favour of teaching Aila how to play chess. She wins only one game—the very first one, in which he tells her of the basics—and fails miserably at the rest. She grins at him after the fifth round and thanks him for not taking it easy on her.

“However will you learn, my dear, if you aren’t challenged?”

“May I have some privacy with Aila?”

As one, Robert and Aila look away from their game. Her attention catches on the sight of Viper slinking past the door. Blood drips from his split, swollen lip. Fingerprint-bruises litter his throat already. He glares at Aila, cuts his gaze to Niall, then scurries out of the house.

Robert stands, bowing his head toward her. “A worthy opponent, Miss Aila. I hope to play more with you.”

“You’re only saying that to make me feel better about losing so much.”

Robert’s chuckle lingers in the air after he’s gone. Niall closes the door and crosses the room to take the seat across from Aila. She watches him set up the pieces, wondering what he’s thinking. Finally, he glances up at her and smiles.

“I told you he’s quite taken by you.”

“You don’t think it’s weird that I consider him a friend and treat him like one?”

“Not weird. I’d find it weirder if you didn’t.” He moves his pawn before leaning back in his seat. “Your heart is too soft to ever look down on someone or mistreat them.”

“And that brings me to my point.”

She blows out a breath, gaze scanning over the board. Niall stays quiet—not pressuring her to make a move. A choice. Her hand hovers over a pawn, then she bites down on her lower lip as she sets the piece down. Niall takes it within two turns.

Aila rolls her eyes as he flashes her a smug grin. “Rude. Niall, I… I can’t do what you lot do. I just can’t. As much as I’m—not ‘okay’ with it, really, but accepting of your lifestyle, I’m not okay with the thought of taking a life.”

“No one is asking you to. If you die of old age without ever having killed, it will have been worth it as long as you’ve been by my side.”

They don’t speak for a few minutes. The only sound in the room is the clack of pieces being placed on the board, the scrape of pieces being dragged to the side. She ducks her head to hide her smile when his foot presses against hers. Warmth flares but flickers out.

She still hasn’t told him her answer.

“Stop letting me win,” she grumbles a moment later as she takes his knight. Keeping her eyes on the game, she sighs. “I love you, Niall. I always will. I just need you to know I can’t be involved in the actual murder side of what you do.”

He knocks his foot into her ankle. She looks up in time to see his soft smile. The tenderness nearly kills her. “Then don’t. Do what you’re comfortable with. I told you I would take care of the ‘stabby bits’.”

It doesn’t matter if it’s been a week or a century. She sets the piece in place, her queen and king blocking his king. He’s let her win, but she hardly notices it. The move feels too symbolic—if she says yes, she’ll have captured him. If she says no, she will have cornered him into an impossible situation. A loss.

“Checkmate.” Blowing out a breath, she meets Niall’s eye. “I’ll marry you.”