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“Away fromyou, and I’m not your sweetheart!” I snap back, bumping the bedroom door shut with my hip. It makes a satisfyingly loud bang. That should have made my point.
RONAN
My eyes don’t leave the bedroom door. Fiona has been in there for almost an hour. Surely she’ll come out soon. The front door opens, and my head snaps around.
It’s only Mellie, struggling through with her arms full of groceries. Springing to my feet, I hurry across the condo to relieve her of most of her burden.
“Thanks,” she flashes me a grin, moving to the kitchen to unpack.
“Where’s Fi?”
I jab my thumb over my shoulder at the bedroom door. Mellie’s eyes follow the movement.
“Is she okay?”
“She’s sulking.”
Mellie’s eyebrows shoot up, a ghost of a smile flitting across her lips. “Uh, why? What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything, lass.”
“Fi’s not a sulker. You did something.”
“She won’t tell me who did this.”
Mellie sighs, opening the fridge and placing the milk and orange juice inside. “Fi is very private. She doesn’t share a lot.”
My eyes zero in on Mellie’s face. Is she hiding something from me? The Reaper could make her talk. He can make his wife do almost anything. I have my theories about how he manages it. I think whatever he does might be rather pleasurable because Niall always looks like he’s getting his dick sucked when he talks about that shite.
“She talks to ye.”
“About some things. Not about this.”
“Have ye asked?”
Mellie shoots me an exasperated look. “Of course, I haven’t asked. When have I been alone with her without you like a big, overbearing shadow?”
I point at the closed door. “So go talk to her now. Ye get her to tell ye who did this, and then ye tell me.”
Mellie tides the bench, glaring at me. “I’m not about to pump her for information and turn around and betray her confidence. If she told me anything, that would stay between her and me.”
Like fuck it will. I point at the door again, jabbing my finger forcefully.
"Then go talk to her. At leastsomeonewould know."
Mellie looks suspicious, but she crosses to the door, knocking gently.
“Come in, Mellie,” Fiona’s voice floats through the door. Mellie opens it, stepping inside.
“How did you know it was me?”
“Ronan wouldn’t knock.”
The door snaps shut, cutting me off from their conversation. No. I wouldn’t knock. Leaning against the kitchen island, my eyes land on a water glass drying on the dishrack. I pick it up, turning it around in my hand, my eyes finding the bedroom door.
I could listen at the door. That way, if Fiona did tell Mellie, I would hear it. I take two steps across the room and freeze. Sighing, I place the glass back on the dishrack, dropping onto one of the bar stools and keeping my gaze trained on the door.
Eavesdropping isn’t my style, and it would feel like a betrayal of Fiona’s confidence. Mellie will get the information out of her, and the Reaper will get it out of Mellie. I will know who hurt Fiona by tomorrow. I’m confident of it.
