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And I don’t want to be heartbroken.
Okay,I text back.I’ll be there in about forty-five minutes.
I need to change and get ready. I push myself to my feet, going to get in the shower and wash away the last traces of Connor fucking me and clean my tear-stained face. When I’m done I throw on a black tank dress with a slightly shorter skirt than I usually wear and dry my hair, adding a little highlighter and blush to my face and swiping a lip stain that won’t come off over my lips. My wedding lash extensions are still holding strong, and when I look in the mirror I see exactly what I wanted—someone who looks casually beautiful, but not like I’m tryingtoohard to impress him.
I call an Uber, since Connor has the driver, and give him Niall’s address. When it lets me out in front of a brick rowhouse building in one of the moderately nice parts of town—not too rough, but not a luxury area either—I feel my stomach start to flutter with nerves.
I’m really doing this—not just letting Niall get away with a few touches and kisses when he surprises me somewhere, not just sending text messages, but going to his apartment. I trust that Niall won’t do more than I allow, and I know I have the presence of mind to stop before it goes farther than what I know is allowable right now, but I still feel as if I’m crossing a line, going past some point of no return.
Deep down, I want to go home to Connor. I want to walk in the door of our new condo and go into his arms, kiss him and feel that hot, burning desire he always rouses in me, let him take me to bed and drive me mad with pleasure. I want to learn more about him, to get to know this man I’ve married, who has as many things about him that I find admirable as things that absolutely infuriate me.
But Connor doesn’t wantme. And I’m not about to make a fool of myself for a man who will never care enough to notice.
So I go up the stairs, and hit the buzzer.
“You made it, lass.” Niall’s rough voice comes over the intercom, and I hear the click of the door opening. “412. I’ll be waiting up here for you.”
My heart skips a beat as I let go of the button, pushing the door open and heading for the stairs. I hesitate once more as I raise my fist to knock on the door of 412, but I do it anyway, and I only knock once before it opens.
Niall is standing there, as casual as I’ve ever seen him in black joggers and bare feet, wearing a grey t-shirt that fits itself so well to his muscles that it makes my mouth go dry. His black hair looks messy, as if he’s run his hands through it, and his dark blue eyes in his chiseled, stubbled face make my breath catch. Somehow he looks even sexier like this than in his usual jeans and jacket, and I step inside, feeling a crowd of butterflies taking off in my stomach.
He grins down at me, holding out a beer, and I see he has one already opened in his other hand. “I was raised it’s rude not to offer a guest a drink. C’mon, lass, it’s not much but I’ll give you a tour.”
His apartment is small, about the size of the one Maggie shares with her roommate, just one bedroom instead of two—though I try not to look at the door that I’m sure leads to the bedroom. It’s lightly furnished and nowhere near as updated or luxurious as my apartment with Connor or Liam’s penthouse, but it’s clean and neat and simple, cozy in a homey way that tells me he’s lived here for a long time and is happy with it.
“Take a seat, lass,” he offers, gesturing towards the slightly-worn dark brown couch, and I notice that he, too, avoided showing me the bedroom.Is he afraid he wouldn’t be able to keep from trying to convince me to go to bed with him?Even though I know I’d say no—Ihaveto say no, for now, the idea sends another flood of butterflies through me.
He sits down next to me, taking a deep draught of his beer, and I half-expect him to lean forward then and try to kiss me. But he doesn’t, instead setting the half-full bottle on a coaster on the coffee table, and looking at me with a grave expression on his face.
“So you’re married now, lass. A McGregor.”
“Yes,” I say softly, feeling my throat tighten. My hand tightens around my beer, and I take a quick sip, wincing. Beer has never been my favorite, but right now I’d take anything cold, wet, and alcoholic. “You always knew I was going to go through with it, Niall. There was never any chance of anything else.”
“Aye,” he says quietly. “Well, and I thought I’d leave you be for a bit, to get acquainted with your new husband.” His gaze flicks over me, and I feel my face heat a little, because I know what he’s thinking—I’m no longer a virgin. I’ve experienced what it’s like to be with a man, and I know he’s thinking of me with Connor, thinking of himself in Connor’s place. It’s the first time I’ve felt a little like I lost something, truly—but that’s ridiculous. Connor was always going to be my first, unless it was Liam.
“We’re acquainted,” I say, a tiny bit stiffly. “It’s going about as well as you’d expect.”
“He’s not being kind to you?”
“He’s being Connor.” I clear my throat, taking another sip of the beer. “And that’s all I’m going to say. Not to be harsh, Niall, but I have no plans of discussing my marriage in depth or shit-talking my husband, not to my future lovers or anyone else. Least of all you, being his brother’s best friend,” I add. “That’s not something I feel okay with.”
“You think he’ll do the same for you with his women?” Niall asks, a bit too bluntly, and I flush.
“I don’t think he’ll think enough about me in the moment or talk enough to them at all to do so,” I admit. “But I want my marriage to stay separate from—anything else.”
“That’s fair, lass, I can understand that.” Niall taps his fingers against his thigh, giving me that same serious look. “How much does Connor talk to you about the business of the Kings?”
I hesitate. “Not at all,” I say finally. I consider what to say next carefully—I don’t want to give Niall something that could be used against Connor, or speak ill of Connor’s business dealings, but I also want someone to confide in, just a little. Maggie is my best friend, and I tell her as much as I can about my life, but there’s some things I can’t ever talk to her about without endangering her—and things that she wouldn’t understand, anyway.
Niall understands, though. And he’s always in some kind of danger, just by being who he is.
“I don’t think Connor trusts me with it,” I say finally. “He thinks I’m still my father’s daughter, that anything he tells me will get reported back to my father to push his agenda.”
Niall narrows his eyes. “And that’s not true?”
I bite my lower lip, feeling my breath catch in my throat. I know I need to be very, very careful of what I say next, but the words feel as if they’re about to burst out of me, as if Ineedto say them. “I don’t want to be anyone’s puppet or spy,” I say softly. “I’m Connor’s wife, and I will be loyal to him, but I don’t want to be in service to his ends or my father’s. I want to be my own woman, as much as I can be, with my own goals and accomplishments. I think that’s possible, with the plans I have. I don’t want to be my mother, listening at tea parties and charity galas and baby showers for any bit of inter-family gossip she can bring back to my father for him to use. I would be Connor’s partner, if he would let me—I’d help him and support him, and do what I could to further his position as King, but I don’t want to be his spy. And Icertainlywould not be parroting information back to my father any longer. I’m—” I stop speaking, realizing how much I’ve said all in a rush. “I’m Connor’s wife now,” I repeat finally. “My loyalty isn’t to my father any longer. Connor doesn’t intend to be ruled by him, and frankly, I—I respect that.”
“Hm.” Niall looks at me, a slight frown on his lips. “So you wouldn’t be amenable to helping convince Connor to back down, or bring about a peace between the two brothers?” My mouth drops open, pain lancing my chest as I feel a dizzying slap of betrayal at his words, but he holds up a hand before I can speak as he sees my wide-eyed stare. “Connor plans to call a parley of sorts between the two factions soon, a weaponless, peaceful talk if Liam will agree. But Liam and anyone on his side knows very well what that talk will be about—terms for Liam to step down and leave Boston.” He squeezes his hands between his knees, looking at me intently. “But you’ve just said you want to support Connor in being the Irish King, so I already think I know your answer to that, lass.”
