Shit. I forgot that Maeve insinuated that she lived in another location. Probably not a good idea to tell her how thoroughly I researched her prior to arriving. “One of your employees must have mentioned it.”
With a gentle hand on her back, I guide her to the stairwell exit but hesitate at the door. My urges pull me in two different directions. The fury still rages in my blood, every instinct screaming at me to hunt Declan’s man down like an animal and slit his throat.
I don’t usually enjoy killing, but for him I’d make an exception.
Maeve needs me, though, and I won’t abandon her.
I console the beast inside me with a reminder.
Soon. That fucker’s days are numbered.
She keys us into her sixth-floor room. As soon as the door closes, she clings to my neck, her face buried against my shoulder. “Thank you.”
I hold her and stroke her hair. “Shh. You’re okay, Maeve. You’re safe.”
We remain locked in this position until her trembling ceases.
When she finally straightens, she ducks her chin and chews on her bottom lip.
Still upset? Or embarrassed?
I wait her out, forcing myself to remain patient.
After a moment, she sighs and shakes her head. “I should’ve been able to handle him.”
I tuck her back against my chest, burying my nose in her hair. “You could have. You’re strong. A fighter. But you don’t need to be if I’m here.”
My gut twists. A fucked-up thing to say, considering I’m here to steal from her thieving family.
But I mean every word. As long as I’m here, I’ll keep her safe.
I argue with myself that the instinct stems my mission.
A lie.
I want to protect her. Because I wanther.
I’m so incredibly fucked.
Guess I’ll worry about that later.
I press my mouth to her ear. “Why don’t you point me in the direction of that wine you mentioned? I’ll open it while you?—”
“Scrub that beast off me?”
I laugh. She took the words right out of my mouth. “Yeah, that.”
Tipping her chin up, I swallow an enraged growl at the sight of her swelling cheek. I should have cut off that fucker’s hand.
Gently, I trace the wounded flesh. “I’ll grab you some ice while you shower. I think the Rocky Balboa look on you is hot as fuck, but a few of your elderly guests may disagree.”
I’m relieved to see her smiling when we break apart. Knowing that the bastard didn’t steal her sense of humor or tarnish her essence eases the tightness in my chest.
She really is strong. Definitely Declan’s daughter, in that sense.
I never thought I’d respect her as much as I do, but damn, she’s not at all the spoiled princess I expected.
Maeve grabs a change of clothes and heads into the bathroom. Following her instructions, I march into the kitchenette to retrieve the Rothschild from the wine cooler.
