“It’s strategic.” I meet his eyes. “A wife who doesn’t bring complications. Who won’t manipulate me or leak info to rivals. Who feels indebted to me for the protection I can provide.”
Ronan is trying not to smile. “You keep telling yourself that.”
“Get out. Both of you.”
As they leave, Finn lingers.
“You sure about this, boss?”
I run a hand through my hair. “No. But I’m doing it anyway.”
Not one to argue with my decisions, he nods and follows my brothers out.
My phone rings. My mother. Again.
I answer this time. “What?”
“Don’t you ‘what’ me, Cillian Patrick O’Rourke. What is this I hear about you taking in a vagrant off the streets?”
“She’s not a vagrant off the streets, mother. She’s a grown woman. And I’m a grown man. What I’m doing or not doing with her is my business.”
“We’re having a family dinner. Tonight. Bring the girl.”
“No. She needs time to adjust.”
“Sunday, then. Family dinner. I want to meet her.” It’s not a request, and I can only fight Kathleen O’Rourke for so long. The woman is relentless.
“Fine. Sunday.”
I hang up before she can say more, and lean back in my chair.
“Marriage is the logical solution,” I say aloud to the empty room, still trying to convince myself.
Chapter 4
Nora
I stand in the middle of the living room for twenty minutes after Cillian leaves, unsure what to do with myself.
Free time is a foreign concept. My entire life has been work, avoid my father, fall into a restless sleep, and repeat. Now I have a whole day stretching ahead with no tasks, no one to avoid, and nowhere I have to be.
I’m alone in this huge, expensive space.
I walk to the wall of windows. Thirty-two floors below, Chicago spreads out like a toy city. Cars look tiny. People are just dots moving along sidewalks. I press my palm against the glass, half-expecting alarms to sound.
Nothing happens.
The TV remote sits on the coffee table. I pick it up, turning it over in my hands. There are at least thirty buttons. I press one experimentally, and the massive screen on the wall flickers to life. The volume blares, making me jump. I fumble with the buttons until I find one that lowers it.
I click through channels aimlessly. Cooking shows, reality TV, news. Nothing holds my attention. My mindkeeps drifting back to this morning, to Cillian finding me in the closet.
He didn’t yell. Didn’t mock me. Just helped me up and fed me.
And then he touched my face.
My hand rises to the spot where his fingers brushed my skin. The warmth I felt then returns, a flush spreading across my cheeks. I drop my hand quickly.
Don’t be stupid, Nora. He’s not interested in you that way. You’re a charity case. A responsibility he took on.
