Page 15 of His Kidnapped Irish Mafia Virgin

This question shouldn’t have surprised me. If I were in her position, I would have asked the same thing. But hearing her say it out loud made me quiet. For the time since I brought her into the house I thought about whether I should tell her the truth or not. It would be easier to lie. I could make up a story about how I found her by accident, I knew she wouldn’t believe it. If I lied to her, she would never trust me again.

“A man came to the bar looking for you a few days before. After he left, I followed him to your apartment. The night you were attacked, I followed you home to make sure he didn’t stalk you again.”

She didn’t react. She just stared at me.

The words just hung there. I watched as she started to understand what I was saying.

“You followed me home.” It wasn’t really a question, but I still nodded.

She took a breath and looked down. When she looked back up at me, I saw disappointment in her eyes. That felt worse than if she was angry.

“So the night I was attacked…you were following me.” She didn’t raise her voice. “I didn’t know you. You didn’t tell me someone was asking for me. You made that decision to follow me like you’ve made every decision since then: without asking me. I’ve been trying to understand why you won’t let me leave, and now I find out you started deciding what was best for me before I even knew your name.”

The silence came back, but it felt heavier than before. I found myself looking at her face, trying to understand what she was thinking. Everything I’d told myself over the last week was still true. Following her had saved her life. Bringing her here had kept her safe. I would do it all again.

But looking at her now, I realized that what I thought was protecting her was also controlling her. We were both right. She looked at me and said, “Why does any of this matter so much to you?”

We stood there in silence for a second, and something changed. The anger we’d been feeling started to fade, and something quieter took its place.

I could see that crease between her eyebrows, the same one I’d noticed when she concentrated on orders at the bar. I had no reason to remember something so small about her, but I did.

The room seemed suddenly quieter. I could hear the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. She was close enough now that I could see the uncertainty in her eyes. My gaze dropped before I could stop it. Her lips. The curve of her neck. The rise and fall of her breathing. I looked back into her eyes, but the damage was already done.

I didn’t remember deciding to move closer to her. One moment we were standing there, and the next I was close enough to see the uncertainty in her eyes. My hand touched her cheek, and before I could think better of it, I kissed her.

The kiss was soft, almost hesitant, lasting no more than a heartbeat, yet it carried every thought I’d spent days refusing to name. The moment I realized what I’d done, the weight of it crashed over me. Nora stepped back, looking shocked. Without saying a word, she walked out of the library, closing the door behind her. I was alone, and I knew I’d crossed a line in a way I could never take back.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Nora

I couldn’t sleep that night, no matter how hard I tried. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind took me back to the library. I remembered the argument with Liam, him saying he’d been following me before the attack, and the look on his face when I said I’d call the police. And then I thought about the kiss. I hated that it had happened. I hated that after everything I’d learned about Liam, he still thought he had the right to kiss me. The more I tried to forget, the more it came back to me.

I spent most of the night turning from one side of the bed to the other, pulling the blanket over myself before throwing it off. I told myself to stop thinking about it. That didn’t work. Every thought led back to Liam, and every memory reminded me that he’d made decisions about my life before I even knew him. By morning, I felt more tired than the night before.

The room looked the same when I opened my eyes. The sunlight came through the curtains as it always did. The bed was still there. The small bookshelf was against the wall. Nothing had changed, but I didn’t feel like the same person who’d walked into this room yesterday. Something had changed inside me, and I wasn’t sure how to fix it.

The thought of leaving my room made my stomach tight. I’d spent days hiding in the library to forget that I was trapped in someone’s home. Now I couldn’t imagine walking through that door. I didn’t want to go to the library. I wasn’t ready to see him again, so I decided I wasn’t leaving the room. I didn’t want another conversation, explanation, or apology. I wanted one day without thinking about him, but I knew that was probably impossible.

There was a knock at the door that pulled me out of my thoughts. I didn’t move. The knock came again, louder this time, but I stayed where I was. Whoever it was could come back another time. I didn’t want to open that door today. I couldn’t stay in the bed for another minute, so I stood up, walked to the window, and looked out into the garden without seeing anything.

After a few minutes, I turned away, crossed the room, and stopped beside the wardrobe.

I opened the doors, stared at the clothes hanging inside, and then closed it without taking anything out. I walked over to the desk, ran my fingers over the surface, and looked at the chair before walking away again. Every corner of the room seemed to pull me in for a moment before pushing me away. I was tired of replaying the conversation with Liam in my head.

I told myself to sit down, but I didn’t last more than a minute before I was on my feet again. I still felt angry about what had happened with Liam.

My legs finally gave out, and I lowered myself into the chair beside the window and let out a breath. For the first time that morning, I stopped trying to do something just to keep myself occupied.

I simply sat there, staring out through the glass with no idea what I was looking at. I felt completely lost until something moved near the gates at the edge of the property.

A black car turned into the driveway and started making its way toward the house. I watched the car without interest, assuming it was another visitor for Liam. The black car rolled to a stop in front of the house and the driver’s door opened. A woman climbed out of the car, and I leaned forward before I even realized I was moving.

Maeve? For a second I simply stared through the window, wondering if I was seeing things. Then Maeve closed the car door and looked toward the house, and every doubt disappeared. It was really Maeve. Relief rushed through me so quickly that I almost laughed. Since arriving at Liam’s house, every face I’d seen belonged to Liam’s world. Maeve reminded me that there was still a part of my life that existed outside this house.

Then another thought pushed its way to the front of my mind. What was Maeve doing at Liam’s house? I frowned as I watched Maeve walk toward the front door. Maeve couldn’t possibly have known where I was. I hadn’t called Maeve. I hadn’t called anyone. As far as I knew, Maeve didn’t even know Liam. So how had she found me?

The more I thought about it, the more confused I became. I turned away from the window and went straight to the door of my room. My hand was already reaching for the handle before I remembered where I was. There was no point opening the door, because someone downstairs would bring Maeve up to my room.