Page 45 of Twisted Obsession

I nod, my mind racing through potential safe locations. Finally, I settle on a small, out-of-the-way motel I know. It's neutral territory and takes by-the-hour cash bookings, no questions asked, and no cameras. It should offer the privacy Roisin is asking for.

"Alright," I say, turning onto a side street. "I know a place."

We arrive twenty minutes later. The parking lot is nearly empty, but I still put on the ball cap and sunglasses I often use whentailing the woman next to me, thanking the circumstances that I’m wearing casual clothes instead of my customary suit.

“Stay here and keep your head down while I get us a room,” I tell her, pulling up close to the door. Minutes later, I have a key to their most private unit and drive around the side of the building, happy for us to be out of sight.

As I guide Roisin to the door and quickly unlock it, I can feel how tense she is.

Once inside, Roisin paces the small room, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. I lean against the wall, watching her, waiting for her to speak. The silence stretches between us, thick with unspoken words and barely concealed tension.

"Okay, we're here. What's this about?" I finally ask when it seems she’s not going to elaborate.

She stops and turns to face me, her beautiful green eyes meeting mine and making me consider things I have no business considering.

Roisin takes a deep breath, There's fear there, but also determination.

"I'm pregnant," she says quietly.

The words hit me like a physical blow. I lean back, stunned, my mind reeling.

Of all the scenarios I'd imagined, this wasn't even on the list.

"Are you... are you sure?" I manage to stammer out.

She nods, her lower lip trembling slightly. "Three tests. All positive."

I run a hand through my hair, struggling to process this information. "Christ, Roisin. This is...

"It can only be yours," she says quietly.

She didn’t need to tell me that. I didn’t doubt it for a second. She was a virgin, after all, and since I’ve been watching her every move since she was released, I’d sure as hell know if there’d been anyone else.

But even if I hadn’t, I know Roisin’s not that kind of girl.

The implications of her words sink in, and I feel a cold dread settle in my stomach. This isn't just complicated – it's potentially catastrophic. A child born of the LCN and the Irish mob? It's unthinkable.

"Have you told anyone else?" I ask urgently.

“Emylyah knows,” she confesses. “I needed her help to get hold of a test once I suspected…”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her if she plans to keep it, but I’m guessing we wouldn’t be having this conversation if she hadn’t already decided. She could have just taken care of things without anyone being any the wiser. Then again, her family is Catholic…

Still, it might have been safer all around if shehadmade that decision. But even as I think it, something inside me rears up in protest at the idea. A child. My child. With Roisin. The thought sends an unexpected thrill through me, followed quickly by panic.

"What do you want to do?" I ask, my voice hoarse.

Roisin looks at me, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and determination. "I'm keeping it," she says firmly. "I know it's crazy and dangerous, and probably the worst possible thing I could do right now. But..." She places a hand on her stomach. "It's my baby. Our baby."

I close my eyes, overwhelmed by the conflicting emotions coursing through me. Part of me wants to grab her, hold her close, and promise her everything will be okay. Another part is screaming at me to run, to get as far away from this complication as possible.

"Roisin," I say slowly, "you understand what this means, right? The danger involved for both of us, as well as the child?"

She nods, her jaw set. "I know. But I also know I can't... I won't get rid of it. I’d never be able to live with myself, Dominic. It would destroy me.”

I don’t tell her keeping the child may well have the same result. She doesn’t need to hear that right now.

Now I’m looking at her more closely, I can see how fragile she is. The dark circles under her eyes and the slight pallor to her skin suggest she hasn't been sleeping well.

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