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Still, I knew he’d have let me bring something with me even if it destroyed the aesthetics of his space.
His penthouse was like something from a magazine, except it wasn’t cold and clinical. It was warm and comfortable. I could easily see myself in there.
“What’s the issue with the banns?” I asked him softly. “Why do I have to move in with you now?”
He grimaced and turned his head away from me to look out at traffic. “Business.”
I pursed my lips, knowing that would be all he’d tell me. I figured that was an important part of being a mobster’s wife. Not that I wanted to know all the details. . . .
Squeezing his fingers, I stated, “You can tell me it’s business, and I’ll take it under advisement if you expect me to modify my behavior. But if I’m in danger, then I want to know. Keeping me in the dark about a threat isn’t the same as telling me the ‘who, why, and when.’”
He pondered that. “No, you’re right. In this instance, it’s a nasty threat. If you had the tea room still, I’d assign a few men to you, but until you get the bakery up and running, your schedule is random, so there’s no need to worry.”
My eyes flared wide in surprise at that. “Men? Like bodyguards?”
“A man protects his treasure,” he rasped, lifting my hand to his mouth and just about flooring me with his words.
Whatever I’d expected him to say, it wasn’t that, but God, it made everything inside me melt. Not with lust, although there was a bit of that. But with hope. Hope for more. Hope for what we could build together.
Because I’d seen the danger in my neighborhoods, I didn’t argue with his statement about my needing guards. Certain parts of the city would never be safe, and certain streets in this area would always be rife with danger. I wasn’t Aoife Keegan anymore. Owner of a teashop, tenant of a very crappy apartment, with my one secret being a genetic connection with a very important man.
No, I was going to be Aoife O’Grady, and that came with ties.
“Understood. I’ll be careful,” I told him.
“That’s all any of us can ever be,” he replied, his tone pensive, and to be honest, that surprised the hell out of me.
Finn was never pensive. He was so sure of himself, it would be annoying if I didn’t want to ride him like he was a bucking bronco.
After that, we didn’t say much, but I was happy to go to his place and to realize that now, it wasourplace.
