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My heart sinks, and I don’t think this conversation taking place within a week after Ivan tried to break in is a coincidence. My worst fear is unfolding. Kieran thinks I’m too much trouble.
“Let me ask you a question.” I point to him. “Do you love me?”
His face contorts, and a crimson blush colors his cheeks. “Wejustgot married.”
Talk about getting things backward. “Fair enough.Canyou love me? Someday. The way a woman wants to be loved?”
“This is not the time to discuss love.” He lowers his head and pinches his nose. I’m forcing him to face his demons about losing Norah.
“Yes, it is.” I bat my eyes, feeling tears I’m trying to hold back. “Kieran, please?”
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Isabella. No, I can’t love you or anyone else.”
My heart flies into my throat. “Are you sure?”
“Aye. Not because I don’t want to. A part of me died with Norah. I wish it weren’t so. I care about you. I respect you. I want to stay married to you.” He laughs out of nowhere. “Apparently, you’re the one who doesn’t want this to be a real marriage if you don’t want to give me children. That’s what a marriage is.” He takes the pills and throws them across the room.
This is exactly what my mother promised me. An arrangement with a powerful man who probably wouldn’t love me. I grew up in a loveless household and thought I could handle it.
I was wrong…
“That’s not what I want,” I whisper. “If you’re willing to let me go, I’d like to leave now.” My stomach violently flips, but it’s my only chance to fight for what I want. If I give in, I’m wrecking both our chances at happiness. If I stay and let him go on without love, I’m letting Kieran settle, too.
I don’t have the strength to live with a man I’m falling in love with, who willneverlove me. Sure, I could keep working on him, but I have my pride.
I need time to think.
Without saying anything else, I leave the kitchen. My suitcase sits in Shea’s closet, something I didn’t think I’d need again so soon. I carefully take only the clothes I came with and leave the rest.
Including my rings.
Packing is a blur, to be honest.
I get downstairs, and the emptiness guts me. Until Patricia comes from the laundry room. She begs me not to go, to not give up on Kieran, who screeched away in his Range Rover shortly after our fight. I can’t argue my point with her, commiserate, because I can’t speak.
Broad shoulders and dark hair steal my attention when Riordan arrives, saying he’ll take me home.
I slide into his Audi, but when we get to my father’s rental house, I can’t get out of the car.
“Isabella?” Riordan calls out to me softly.
“Can you take me somewhere else? Please? Do you have any idea how much my father will hurt me?”
Riordan gets on the phone with Lachlan, and they murmur for a few minutes. Turning to me with concerned eyes, he says, “Where do you want to go?”
I give him Sam’s address in Brooklyn.
He idles in front of the building for what feels like forever as I muscle through the courage to get out of the car. Riordan joins me in my silence, supporting me. When I reach for the handle, he stops me with a hand on my shoulder.
Besides Kieran, he’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. While my husband is all hot fury and passionate intensity, Riordan is smoldering, quiet power.
“You need a guard. Please give us twenty-four hours to arrange it. Promise you’ll stay inside until he arrives,” he says, his voice deep and so very male. “You’re still an O’Rourke. We protect what is ours.”
It makes me think of Shea.
I nod, silently agreeing.
Sam lives in a luxury loft, paid for by her rich daddy. She takes me in, and I cry for what feels like hours. I get a text around eight p.m. from Connor Quinlan, saying he’ll be guarding me until other arrangements can be made.
