The door shoves open, slamming back against the wall with a violent crack. A weak gust tosses a few of the loose papers on the desk, and I dive to slap them back down, only to then look up into Grayson’s stormy eyes.
Those eyes that were full of so much awe and adoration this weekend are now turbulent and threatening. I glance behind him. Where’s Ace?
Grayson forces himself into the room and swings the door shut, allowing it to smash with a loudcrack. He stares at me, and the ire radiates off him as he takes in where I’m slouched in Ace’s chair.
“Helping yourself?” he fumes.
I could play stupid. Pretend I don’t understand why he’s mad, but I saw the way he looked at me when I pulled my gun on his chief and when I called him Ace. So, I go with the truth. “Ace doesn’t mind when I come into his office.”
The top corner of his lip twitches. “Ace.” He puts both his hands on his hips, flipping his jacket open. Then he turns, moving toward the bookshelves on the far side of the room. “I guess I should ask how you know Ace”—he spits the name—“but seeing how you handled the mayor this past weekend, I’m not sure I need to.”
“It’s not like that,” I say, standing. Tucking my arms around my chest, I move toward him.
He holds up a hand. “Don’t. I won’t be handled like you handle them. Is that what this past weekend was? You’ve got the mayor and the chief of police in your pocket, why not add a detective to the mix?” He hisses out a long sigh and drags a hand through his hair.
I study him. The way his hands shake on his hips, the way his body shuffles from ridged to deflated every few movements, like he’s wrestling with how to feel. His fists clench, and I remember the ghosting of his fingers over my body this weekend, like it was sacred to him. He made me feel like more than a feared leader. He’d hollowed out the resignation that love would never come for me—I was treasured, loved.
With Finn and Ronan’s deaths, I don’t want this anymore. I can’t do this anymore. Not alone. I need someone who can adore me but also revere the position I hold. Grayson is that man. I don’t want anyone else.
Approaching him, I keep his gaze fixed on mine, and when my boots bump his, the tears well in my eyes. “I’ll explain it to you. I will. It’s just Ronan … I’m having trouble sorting through my thoughts, but I know I can’t let another second pass in this moment without telling you I love you. This weekend wasn’t for the Irish; it was for me.” I laugh, sniffing away stuffiness in my nose. “Probably to the detriment of my heart, I love you, Grayson. I know it’s not what you want to hear. The damn Irish Mob leader is in love with the detective, but shit, I do.”
The muscular columns in his neck twitch, and he looks away.
No, no, no. “Please, don’t look away.”
He shakes his head, and the lump in my throat grows. Grayson steps back, but I reach for him, threading my fingers through his. The hardness in his expression quells, his eyes softening as he brings a hand to cup my face. His thumb traces over my cheekbone, and my eyes flutter shut. “Aoife, I don’t know how I feel right now.”
My eyes pop open as he drops his touch. “Grayson.”
“I’ve got to go,” he says.
“Grayson!”
The door opens again, and Ace freezes when he sees Grayson and me.
“Chief, I was just leaving,” Grayson says, turning from me. His gaze snags on a photo nestled in the middle of Ace’s bookshelves. He pauses, lingering. Then he spins on his heels, pulling out his carton of cigarettes, and moves toward the door.
“No. Don’t leave. Please. Or—wait, please. Grayson!”
He doesn’t say anything as he moves past Ace’s broad shoulders in the doorway.
I snarl. “Grayson!” I jog after him, but Ace steps in front of me.
“Let him go.”
I don’t want to. This notion I have to be a strong, stabby, badass mob leader—it’ssoone-dimensional. Grayson is my soft place to lean into, and his presence unravels the tightness in my chest. Whether he knows it or not, he gives me permission to let the weight slip from my shoulders, to stop pretending I’m not tired.
Ace moves me back into his office and shuts the door. He looks around as I stare at the wooden door like I can see Grayson striding away from me through it.
“What’d Kieran say?” Ace says from behind me.
Straight to business then. I roll my shoulders and turn. Ace holds up the crumpled ball of paper and smooths it out between his palms.
“I haven’t told him.”
He pauses, his one good eye pinning me with a stare. “What?”
“I haven’t told him.”
