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Her gaze burns into my retinas. She turns her attention to the chandelier above our heads, muttering something under her breath. Leaning her weight on her palms, she looms over me and says, “It’s Romy, isn’t it?” She doesn’t wait for a reply. “Listen, Romy. This whole situation has pissed me off enough. I’m in no mood for games. Now, unless you want to wear the same panties every day for a year, stand so I can get a gauge of your size.”
Every day for a year.Am I really going to be here for a year?
“I’m a size six.”
Poppy nods to Aisling, who taps something into her cell.
“Bra and shoe size?” Poppy continues, tone brisk.
Satisfied by my answers, she dismisses Aisling. Now that it’s just us two, her features soften a fraction. “Thank you,” she says quietly. “Aisling will get you a new wardrobe. She’ll also stock the fridge weekly, so do be sure to let her know if you have any dietary requirements.” Eyes grazing over me, she adds, “Aisling—get extra fruit and vegetables.”
My cheeks burn. “I can’t tell if you’re being nice or nasty to me.”
She lets out a tinkering laugh, absentmindedly spinning the globe with a manicured finger. “I told you, I’m here to help you. Now tell me, how did you two meet?”
I search her gaze, trying to see if she’s joking or not, but she gives nothing away.
“Tinder,” I snap.
There’s that laughter again. It’s hypnotic. “I see.”
“Who are you?”
She smiles faintly like she’s softened around the edges. “I’m just a girl who was in a very similar situation to you once.”
“Kidnapped by a psychotic mafia don?”
Without missing a beat, she says, “Exactly. And I’m going to tell you everything I would have wanted to know when it happened to me.”
She’s graceful, sliding her ass off the desk and gliding across the room on impossibly high heels. As she passes the wall of drawings, she gingerly reaches out to touch them, a small smile on her lips. “I’ll start with the reason you’re here. The Quinn family is very powerful, Romy, and power creates enemies. One of them being Leo Belsky, the Republican nomination for the next governor of New York.”
If she notices how hard I grip the desk, she doesn’t show it.
“The Quinns were…heavily invested in the Democratic front-running candidate. However, he has sadly…passed.” She pops the ‘P’ as though his death is the biggest inconvenience to her. “Belsky is determined to pass legislation that would have the Quinns deported back to Ireland, which of course, would be quite the inconvenience.”
I’ve received more information from this woman in five minutes than I have from my supposed husband our entire marriage. Which, granted, hasn’t been much longer.
Poppy is feeding me information I already know, but I straighten my spine and play the role of a dumb captive. “So why have I been dragged into it?”
Her smile is dazzling but forced. “Because should Belsky win the seat, he won’t have the power to deport residents who are married to an American citizen. At the state level, anyway.” She rolls her big green eyes. “Politics, hey? Hate them as much as I love them.”
“So Donnacha needed a wife so he doesn’t get deported.”
“I knew you were a smart cookie.”
I lower my gaze, running my fingers over the grains of the leather chair. “Hell will freeze over before I agree to stay here.”
Poppy reacts to something in my tone. In my peripheral, I see her tense. Then she returns to her seat on the edge of the desk. “You’ll learn quickly that these Quinn men do whatever they want. But Donnacha also gets bored easily. I know you hate the idea of being stuck here, but it won’t be forever. You’ll have everything you want, I promise you that. Whatever your weekly allowance is, I’ll have it tripled.” She glances at Aisling, still hovering in the doorway. “Set Romy up with a card, please.” Then to me, she adds, “You’ll be treated like a queen for the time that you’re here.”
I scoff. She clearly doesn’t know about Donnacha’s promise to break me. But she continues talking, like the noise that escaped my lips is nothing but a flutter in the wind.
“Think of it as an extended vacation. One you’re being paid to take.”
“You can usually leave your hotel room on vacation,” I say sourly.
Poppy winces. “As I said, power creates enemies, and the Quinns have lots of them. Believe it or not, as Donnacha Quinn’s wife, it’s much safer for you to be kept out of the public eye right now.”
Her ignorance upgrades my scoff to a snort. “Yeah, right.”
