Page 186 of Forced Vows

"I do. But sometimes I need my space.

"You mean so you can screw around with women?"

"I don't bring sex partners into my private spaces. The family can be too much sometimes, so, I come here. I also crash here on the nights I work too late to go home." What used to be my home.

Now, this penthouse, with Róise and Pusheen living here, is my home.

"It's a pretty big space for a crash pad or to get away from your family." She looks around pointedly. "Besides, I thought that's what your studio was for."

"I only go to my studio a couple of times a month. Going there isn't about getting away from the family home. It's about giving vent to my secret passion."

Forcing myself to stay away as much as I do has helped me develop an iron will, that this woman decimates with a single touch.

"It must be awful to feel like you have to hide your need to create." Her emerald green eyes are filled with compassion and sorrow.

For me.

Has anyone ever looked at me like that? No. Not even my mother.

"It has made me stronger."

"Or more of a jerk. The jury is out on that one."

"Maybe both," I freely admit. Being an asshole can be useful in my position.

Both as COO of Oscuro Enterprises and as the Genovese underboss.

The wry twist of her lips acknowledges the truth of my statement. But then she sighs. "Even if I never use my degree as an actor, I can still do things that will give that side of my creativity an outlet."

"Like what?" Maybe I can make her finding those outlets easier.

"Mamo lets me read aloud to her doing the different characters in the book. It's fun. For me anyway. I think she prefers her favorite narrators, but she never says so."

An idea starts to form, but I don't voice it. "I like your grandmother. Would she be open to coming to visit a few days a month?"

I don't want to take Róise from her family, but our life will be in Manhattan.

"Maybe." She chews on her lower lip as she looks around. "I know you say this is your apartment, but it sure doesn't look like anyone lives here."

I try to see the main living area through her eyes. I don't have any artwork up because even putting up paintings recommended by the interior designer feels like showing too much of myself.

"We used the same interior designer as we did for the executive offices."

"That explains the office feel with all the glass and chrome."

"There's wood too." Alder to be exact.

"Yeah, I can see her attachment to Scandinavian design, but she misses the hygge by a mile because there's no coziness here."

"I like that it's not cluttered."

"But there are no touches that makes it feel like a home. Nothing that reveals you at all. Except maybe the wood accents. They're they same wood as your easels, aren't they?"

"You noticed that?" I feel exposed, but having Róise's eyes on the me I kept hidden feels good.

Not vulnerable. Not weak.

"Yes, but even with the wood, this place is soulless. Yours, or not, no one lives here."

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