And if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t think I’m going to mind spending that much time with Ronan. He’s easy to be around in a way that surprises me. Funny in this dry, deadpan way that sneaks up on me when I’m not expecting it. Dry humor has always been my thing. And nobody does dry better than Ronan.
It’s close to lunch when Ronan’s dad walks into the office. At some point, he ditched the suit jacket and tie. Now the sleeves of his dress shirt are rolled to his elbows, exposing strong forearms dusted with dark hair. He was already impressive in the suit. Like this, he’s unfair.
Ronan looks so much like him it’s almost unsettling. He’s a couple inches shorter than his dad, but they have the same broad build, the same sharp features, the same expression that makes them both look serious even when they’re not saying anything. They even stand the same way. Like they’re both permanently braced for something.
And they both have those jawlines that movie stars would probably pay a fortune for. There’s something purple stuck in Mr. Murphy’s hair. I don’t mention it, but my eyes keep drifting back to it.
“It’s lunchtime. Alessia would like to feed Ollie now. She said he’s getting tired and needs a nap.”
“Okay. I can handle that. Ronan, is it okay if I take my lunch now?” I get to my feet and glance back over to Ronan when he doesn’t answer. He’s staring at his dad with his head cocked to the side, brows pulled together.
“What’s in your hair?” he asks, pointing to his own head. Mr. Murphy drags a hand through his hair and comes away with a strand of purple.
“Silly string,” he says.
Like that is a completely normal answer. Like finding party supplies in your hair in the middle of a workday happens all the time.
“Alessia ordered lunch for us,” he adds.
Then he turns and leaves without waiting for either of us to respond. I stare after him.
Completely dumbfounded. I knew who Murphy Enterprises was before yesterday, but after I put Ollie to bed last night, I looked them up. A multi-billion-dollar company run by brothers Duncan and Kieran Murphy. And Kieran Murphy apparently walks around with silly string in his hair. I feel like I’ve slipped into some weird alternate universe. From the pictures online, I would have guessed he spent his days glaring at people in boardrooms, not letting a toddler attack him with party supplies.
“We had better go eat.”
Ronan rests his hand on the small of my back and guides me out of the room. I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t like it. Because I do, way too much.
He’s a little over six feet, just taller than me, but he’s built in a way that makes me notice. Broad shoulders, strong arms, all ofit wrapped up in those expensive clothes. There’s power in the way he moves. He’s controlled and graceful, which makes him sexy as fuck. And the worst part is, I don’t even know what that means for me. I don’t know if I’m gay. Hell, I don’t know if I’m straight. The truth is, I’ve never even kissed anyone. Sure, I’ve felt attraction before. And I have been attracted to both men and women in the past. But never enough to act on it. By the time I was old enough, it was forbidden by the cult.
The leader, Prophet Moses, whose real name is Derick Napper, tells you who you’re to marry. You’re to marry when the man is twenty-four, and the girl can be as young as sixteen. I still have two years before it is expected of me. The thought of being married to any of the girls in the congregation doesn’t appeal to me. When he would choose for one of the men, it felt like a meat market. The girls would have to stand in a line while Moses surveyed the stock. We all knew the decision had already been made, but he still held court. Once he announced who had been chosen, he would comment on the other girls and explain why God had not led him to choose them. It was degrading every time. The girls not chosen would be given extra chores for being inadequate in God’s eyes. I hated every second of it. Just thinking about it now sours my mood. I have to remind myself that I got away, that I got Ollie out. I’m still not in the clear yet, and probably never will be, but for now, we’re as safe as we can be.
Chapter 6
Colton
We meet up with his parents in the same conference room. A small table has been set up, complete with a high chair for Ollie. He’s wearing a bib that I have never seen before.
“Da!” he yells at me right before he shoves a piece of banana into his mouth. A big gooey smile is plastered on his face.
“I hope you don’t mind that I went ahead and gave him the banana that you had in your bag. I wasn’t sure if he had any allergies, so I didn’t want to feed him anything else until I asked.” Mrs. Murphy points to the chairs across from her and tells us to have a seat.
“He doesn’t have any allergies that I know of. He eats just about anything you put in front of him.” A fact that I am thankful for. When he started eating solid foods, I could feed him from my plate.
“Great. I had the chef make him mashed sweet potatoes, shredded chicken, and mashed peas. He also has plain yogurt with blueberries for dessert. I didn’t know what you liked, so I ordered several different kinds of sandwiches.”
She gestures toward the table. It’s not just a sandwich tray. There are different breads, meats, cheeses, toppings, and enough condiments to stock a restaurant. Bowls of potatosalad, chips, fruit, and garden salad crowd the table around the platters. It’s more food than I’ve seen in a long time.
“Thank you,” I manage.
The words come out rougher than I want them to. Because I don’t understand this. I don’t understand why she’s doing all of this for us. For me. Back in the town where we lived, people looked at us like we were contaminated once they found out we belonged to the Children of the Fallen. People crossed the street to avoid us, and parents pulled their kids closer. I can’t stop myself from wondering if Mrs. Murphy would still be smiling at me like this if she knew where I came from, even though none of it was my choice.
“You’re quite welcome.”
I start pulling my chair closer to Ollie so I can feed him, but she holds up her hand to stop me.
“You go ahead and eat. I’ll take care of sweetie here,” she says.
“You don’t have to do that. I can eat after.”
