Page 93 of Deceived Wrath

“I need you to gain Cormac’s trust. How you do that is up to you. I’ll be checking in soon to give you your next instructions.” Then he hangs up.

I glance out of the window at the snowy sky as I think of how much fun I had at dinner with Cormac the other night.

The harder I try to fight my attraction to him, the stronger it seems to grow. Even in the twenty-four hours since then, I’ve found myselfmissinghim.

I’m walking a very dangerous line.

If I gain Cormac’s trust like Lorcan asks, it might end up being the biggest mistake of Cormac’s life.

When the Uber pulls up outside Cormac’s building, I quickly climb out and hurry inside as the snow starts to fall. But I quickly stop dead in my tracks as I stare around the grand lobby, complete with a chandelier and marble flooring.

I never got to see it last time, so I take a moment to gawk at how fancy it is.

“Can I help you?”

I jump as a woman appears behind the reception desk. Her bright red lipstick is striking against her almost-white blonde hair.

“Hi, uh…I’m here to see Cormac Sullivan?”

The woman’s eyebrows shoot up, but she quickly recovers her expression as she taps away on her keyboard.

I frown, wondering if it’s because Cormac doesn’t have many visitors or if I’m not the usual type he does have.

For my own ego, I hope it’s the former.

“Name?”

“Fiona Callahan.”

The woman clicks a few more times on her keyboard before picking up her phone. “I just need to confirm.”

I wait awkwardly while she calls up to the penthouse.

She glances at me again before hanging up the phone and offering me a forced smile. “Let me show you to the private elevator.”

“Thank you,” I say a little smugly.

The moment the doors slide shut and I ride the elevator up to the penthouse, my pulse starts thrumming in my ears.

I have no idea what I’m about to walk into. Am I going to be fired or come face-to-face with the mother of Cormac’s child, demanding answers for why I’ve been sleeping with him for the past couple of weeks?

When I eventually reach the top floor and the doors open, I’m a sweaty, panicking mess.

“Good, you’re here,” Cormac says by way of greeting.

He’s over in the kitchen, grinding beans for coffee.

Even though it’s seven a.m. on a Saturday, he’s immaculately dressed in a black shirt and slacks.

I’m a little disappointed to see he’s returned to being his usual formal self. All traces of the man who bent me over the couch and fucked me are gone.

I step out of the elevator and cross over to the kitchen, trying my hardest not to glance at the couch. The last thing I need right now is to be turned on.

“Do you want a coffee?” he asks without looking at me.

“Sure.”

While Cormac has his back to me, I look around the living area again.