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My breathing goes ragged as I play over every second of interaction I’ve had with my woman. I studied her. I knew something wasn’t right.
Betrayal feels like a brand against my soul.
I clench my jaw against the pain of it. My teeth grind together to the point I wouldn’t be surprised if I crack one.
Because I also know it won’t matter.
Itdoesn’tmatter.
Because she’s still mine.
No matter the scheme. No matter the reason why she started working at The Irish Rose. No matter the lies that spill from her lips.
I might have to punish her, but I’ll relish it. I’ll purge her sins.
“She was surprised to see him there,” I defend her.
When I force my gaze to meet Conor’s, I can see his skepticism. I know I should be feeling the same.
Did I trust too easily? Was I just beguiled by a pretty face and an amazing body?
Was it all a fucking act?
I think about her moans and the way she fell apart on my lap in the car. It wasn’t fake. I felt the walls of her pussy flutter around my fingers. Then my cock.
That was real.
That was fire.
That was connection.
“Maybe there’s a reason,” my voice cracks and I hate the way I’m not sure if I believe my own words.
Conor’s eyes soften with understanding and something I never thought I would see from my right-hand man. Pity.
It claws up my spine and throat. I want to roar. I want to fight.
I want to put my fucking fist through the wall just to feel something. Anything.
Instead, numbness starts to steal through my limbs, racing toward my heart. Will I be able to shake it free?
Before it can settle around me, I’m hit with the fear I saw in Roisin’s eyes when I asked her about the cut on her face. It was real and there was nothing fabricated about it.
I don’t know who hurt her, but they did.
The realization pushes the numbness away and my soul starts to fight for my woman. It’s possible she has some atoning to do, but I won’t be throwing her away. I’ll stand by her side. I’ll protect her.
“Maybe she was sent in to find out things about me.” I shrug one shoulder like the prospect isn’t devastating. “It’s the kind of thing Cillian would do—try to get someone on the inside to get information. I just don’t know why it would matter. I’ve sold to him, but he knew it was business and had nothing to do with the cause.”
Conor holds his hands up as if trying to placate me. Or maybe surrender. Either would be smart, but I won’t be killing the messenger. Not today anyway.
“I don’t know why. I think there’s only one person who knows the answer,” he offers quietly, his voice soft like it will be enough to smooth my sharp edges.
I nod slowly and steeple my fingers under my chin. “I won’t push her. Why she was put in my path doesn’t really matter. She’s mine,” there’s a finality to my words that has Conor’s jaw dropping.
“No matter what?” Something in Conor’s tone has me wanting to sit up and take notice. He’s not just asking about Roisin. This goes deeper.
“No matter what,” my voice is hard. A wicked smirk curls my mouth. “That doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve some punishment.”
