“Just…feel better, Maeve.” He grazes my forehead with his lips again, then he’s gone.
Chapter 23
Kellin
I tried to help Maeve as best I could, but I had to escape before the growing weight of my guilt crushed me.
With my insulin spiking from all that sugar, I started to feel nauseous too.
I’m not a good man. Certainly not a hero.
Though part of me wishes I could be the man Maeve believes me to be.
I pretended to fill that role while washing her hair in the shower and toweling off her silky-soft skin. Those legs. That stomach. Her beautiful breasts. Her elegant neck. Those sweet and innocent freckles that bridge her striking cheekbones.
Sharing her space and caring for her aroused me. On some deeper level, her relying on me like that felt…nice.
I’m a terrible fucking person.
While waiting on my coffee, I scan the lobby. No sign of Maeve’s father, brothers, or Nolan Doyle.
My gaze catches a security guard—one of Maeve’s hires—as well as one of Declan’s men. Satisfaction swells in my chest when they remind me of how I ended the motherfucker who attacked her.
At least I’ve done one thing right by her in the last twenty-four hours.
Lenora seems perfectly happy to boss me and everyone else around for a day. If Maeve weren’t under the weather, the other woman probably would be dancing an excited jig.
She went to the kitchen to have them get some soup and crackers ready. In my attempt to lighten Lenora’s load, I tried to speak with the chef about a palatable meal for Maeve, only for the douche to chase me out with a knife.
Lenora disappeared into the kitchen after that and reappeared in two minutes, poised and unperturbed, with a bowl of steaming soup and crackers.
No wonder Maeve delegates interactions with Moreau whenever possible. The Frenchman possesses a mercurial—even violent—temperament.
His foodisamazing though.
At the café counter, I wait on my Americano and a ginger ale to help settle Maeve’s stomach.
I trade eye contact with Declan’s man. After the brief, silent exchange, he glances away and heads down a hall.
Yeah, you better hide.
He may not know me, but he’s sharp enough to recognize that I’m not a guy to mess with.
My skin itches from all these goons on the grounds. At some point, their presence will negatively affect Maeve’s business, if that hasn’t already started.
I shake those thoughts away.
I’m not actually an investor. I don’t care if Declan’s control impacts her business.
This isn’t real. Wake the fuck up to the mission.
One of the servers brings me the beverages I ordered, and I load them onto the tray with the soup and crackers before heading back to Maeve’s room.
Tapping her key card to the reader, I slip into the suite quietly.
I set the tray down on a table, grab my Americano and her soda, and slip into Maeve’s bedroom to check on her.
She stirs when I enter.
