AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Ciaran eyebrows raise at this tidbit of information. “Do you have any idea what Mika was referring to?”
Nodding, I tell him the rest. “Vito apparently kidnapped the girlfriend of some member of the British nobility. I don’t know what the outcome was, but Mika said the Cosa Nostra compound was surrounded by feds…” I trail off, pursing my lips and staring into space as I think back. “The way Mika made it sound… Well, I really thought there was a possibility the wedding wouldn’t go ahead since he claimed the authorities were watching every move.”
I shrug and let out a sigh because we both know how that played out. “But maybe Mika was mistaken, or exaggerating in order to get his point across. Vito is pretty bull-headed. There’s not much that discourages him from whatever the hell he wants to do.”
Ciaran doesn’t look at me, but I can almost see the gears turn in his head as he mulls over my words. Then he raps his knuckles against the table, something I’ve noticed he does when he comes to a decision.
“I need to make a call,” he declares, pushing from the table, fishing his phone out of his pocket, and dialing, all in one swift, fluid movement.
He paces across the room and moves into the bedroom as the call connects. I’m not trying to eavesdrop, but Ciaran isn’t being quiet, and it’s clear he’s speaking to Callum, relaying the information.
“You think it might be connected to the activities in our territories? A way to throw the feds off his scent?” I hear him say. It doesn’t mean much to me, except that the Viper is clearly still up to his usual tricks.
There’s nothing else except some vague comments about bees and honey, which make no sense at all, and then the call concludes and Ciaran returns.
I expect him to tell me he has to go out to deal with whatever stir the information I’ve given him has caused, but instead he holds out his hand to help me up.
Taking it, albeit tentatively, Ciaran surprises me yet again when he draws me under the light and checks the abraded skin on my wrists, his fingers unexpectedly gentle as he examines the broken skin. Then he has to go and do other sweet things, causing my chest to tighten way more than I’m comfortable with.
Removing a tube of antiseptic ointment from his pocket, he proceeds to carefully apply the cream to the reddened grazes before pressing a light kiss to my inner arm just above the marks.
And that’s it. I am officially gone for this man. He makes my head spin faster than I can keep up. There hasn’t been much softness or caring in my life since my mother left - scrap that, there’s been none at all - so I have no defenses against this unexpected side of him. I try to remind myself of the dreadful hours following my attempted escape. The incarceration, humiliation, and torment I was subjected to. But my stupid heart keeps making excuses… Like, it was more Callum than Ciaran who was calling the shots that night. And he’d prevented the soldier with the knife from stripping me naked, when I’m certain that was the plan. Then he’d come back for me, carrying me out of that awful place and caring for me with such unexpected sweetness afterwards, instead of just leaving me to my fate. Last, but by no means least, were Callum’s words when he told me how Ciaran had jeopardized his position as head of the Irish outfit with the liberties he’d allowed me.
I knew that much must be true.
Yep, I’m a trusting pile of emotional goo where Ciaran Maguire is concerned.
Well, until he snaps the string on the bracelet mama gave me. It’s hanging together by a single thread, having been almost totally frayed by the metal cuffs rubbing against it, and also a little bit dented. But it’s still my most prized possession. “No!” I exclaim, yanking my arm away. But it’s too late and the sad-looking remnants drop into his palm. I try to snatch them back, but Ciaran stops me.
“Hey!” He catches hold of my hands and stills my grappling fingers. “I’m not trying to take it,” he says gently. “But your skin won’t heal with the constant chafing.”
I dissolve into an overwhelmed puddle of confusion and Ciaran pulls me down onto the overstuffed couch next to him, his thumb caressing the back of my hand, soothing me. “S-sorry.” The apology is stilted. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but my - my mother gave it to me. It’s the only thing I have left of her.”
Ciaran opens his hand to show the pathetic scraps of metal and string sitting brokenly in his palm. Then, with his free hand, he crooks a finger under my chin, so I look at him. He searches my face but doesn’t ask the question I expect. “Will you trust me to hold onto this and get it fixed for you?” he asks, seemingly without objective or artifice.
He’s done it again. Charmed me into compliance with his sweetness. When I find myself nodding before I realize I’m planning to allow it, I know for certain I’d likely do anything for this man.
Ciaran tucks the pieces carefully into his breast pocket, but my eyes stay on his, and the next thing I know, his face eclipses my vision and his lips are on mine, his kiss yet another softness I’ve never known before.
There is no thought involved. No second-guessing or holding back. I lean into the kiss and absorb every beautiful second of it, basking in the way he makes me feel.
Precious.
Cherished.
Desired.
Special.
Valued.
All of the things that are now, and have always been, missing from my life.
It might all be an illusion, but it’s an illusion I'm desperate to embrace.
Chapter Thirty-Three
CIARAN
