He kisses my forehead. Holds his mouth there for a long breath.
I close my eyes and let myself have this—this warmth, this man, this impossible, borrowed life.
And underneath it, quiet as a held breath, doubt lingers.
Chapter 10
Cillian
Tonight is the charity gala—the biggest social event on Chicago’s calendar. Nora’s getting ready in the guest room, while I knot my bow tie in the bedroom mirror.
Every power player, politician, and shark in a designer suit will be there.
And my wife will be on my arm.
Finn arrives at seven to brief me on security. He leans against the kitchen counter while I check my cufflinks.
“The little wifey coming tonight?”
“Her name is Nora. And yes.”
“Is she ready for this?”
“She’ll be fine.”
Finn scratches his jaw. “You seem different. Less wound up.”
“Why would I be wound up?”
“I mean in general. Since she moved in. You’re sleeping better. Snapping at people less.” He smirks. “She’s good for you, boss.”
I don’t answer. He’s not wrong.
The stylist and her team have been with Nora for threehours. Three hours behind a closed door while I pace the living room and pretend to review security protocols on my phone.
She was nervous this morning. Picking at her breakfast, bouncing her knee under the table.
“This is a lot,” she told me when the team arrived with garment bags and cases of products.
“You’re about to walk into a room full of sharks. Let me armor you properly.” I kissed her forehead. “I’ll see you tonight. You’re going to be perfect.”
The bedroom door opens, and I turn?—
And forget every word I’ve ever known.
Nora stands in the hallway wearing a floor-length gown in midnight blue. The fabric hugs her waist, skims her hips, and flows around her ankles. Her hair falls in soft waves past her shoulders. Her makeup is subtle enough to make her eyes enormous. Her mouth is full and dark.
She doesn’t resemble the girl I brought home clutching a garbage bag full of all her worldly possessions.
She looks regal. Like a queen born to stand beside me.
“Am I okay?” She fidgets with the fabric at her hip. “They said this color?—”
I cross the room in three strides and take her face in my hands as I look down at her. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Her cheeks turn pink. “You don’t have to?—”
“I don’t say things I don’t mean. You know that.”
