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I step inside my closet to snag a few sundresses. I’m still the Irish Enforcer’s wife and want to look polished next to him. “How did that line up with your spirituality?”
He stokes my hair. “You’re smart. That’s the exact connection I meant. It did, and it didn’t line up. You either believe in one almighty power or give in to another version where souls never die, where the earth absorbs the dead and releases energy to counterbalance other energy.”
“That’s so deep, Lachlan.” I hold my chest.
He smiles at me. “You’re still topless, Katriane. I want to do something about it. But a helicopter has our name on it.”
The humor in his voice tugs a grin on my lips, and I feel the cloud lifting around me. “I just feel so comfortable with you.”
“Good. I feel the same way.” He leans into my ear. “But seriously, put something on because my resistance is wearing thin.”
Smiling, I take an orange T-shirt dress and slide it over my body. With a pair of white tennis shoes, I say, “Let me get my things from the bathroom.”
He takes my hand and brings me in there. I see a saddle brown duffle bag sitting on his bed. Our bed. After I toss a few basics into a makeup bag, I catch my face in the mirror. I’m pale, and I have circles under my eyes.
Lachlan drops a kiss on my shoulder. “Ready?” He didn’t call me little wife, and I suspect he won’t again since I objected. It came naturally to him, and I feel bad balking about it.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you calling me little wife. If that’s how you see me… Your little wife…”
He kisses my neck. “The important word is wife. You’re mine.”
What he did today proves that. Proves how much he cares about me. Risked his life for me. Mark had an assault rifle!
It hits me that even if I get the spot in the conservatory, I don’t think I want to take it.
We arrive in East Hampton in the glow of twilight. We sat in the helicopter’s soundproof cabin. The route was mostly over water, so there was nothing special to see. I kept my head in Lachlan’s chest, crying on and off from the built-up stress.
After we land, Shea O’Rourke, the one-and-only daughter and sister to seven brothers, steps out of a white Escalade. A man in a navy blue suit follows her.
Her guard is tall with a square jaw, but his eyes are hidden behind dark shades. He looks serious, with no hint of the same humor that lingers on the tip of Lachlan’s tongue.
I’ve grown up with guards and can pick up on ones who have a thing for their client. But I say nothing, as I suspect Lachlan might lose his shit.
Dressed in a white suit and a satin, lavender blouse underneath, Shea’s long, dark hair contrasts against the pearly fabric. She’s stunningly gorgeous with curves and a sexy gait.
Lachlan tugs me to his side. “Alo, Shea. This is Katriane, my wife.”
She holds out a hand, several glittering bracelets clinking together on her wrist. “It’s so wonderful to meet you, Katriane.”
“Same here.” I shake her hand. “Please call me Katya. God, you’re so pretty.”
“Me? Look at you. You’re the picture of beauty and grace. Fitting for this beast.” She punches Lachlan in the arm not bandaged. Something she neither asks nor frets about.
I twist my braid draped over my shoulder. “I don’t feel very beautiful today.”
“You’ve been through a terrible ordeal.” She strokes my arm but yelps when she zeroes in on my left hand. “Lachlan, this ring!”
“I have good taste,” he quips, holding me closer. “But Archer pulled great options for me.”
Her body stiffens. “Archerhelped you himself?” She clears her throat. “Archer Crest, the owner?”
“Aye.” Lachlan eyes her bodyguard, whose jaw tightens.
It’s innuendo overload.
“I have a party I need to show my face at, or I would have dinner for you. But I called Everleigh’s on Pantigo, and they are holding a table for you.”
It strikes me how all the O’Rourke women work. Shea owns a premier party planning business. Kieran’s wife runs a foundation, and Priscilla works for Griffin Quinlan. It fills me with hope that I can dance for a living, and my husband won’t mind.
