Page 60 of Twisted Obsession

Mika nods, a hint of respect in his eyes. "That was always my intention, Roisin. You know I never wanted to risk a war. Your brothers?"

Ciaran sighs heavily but nods. "Agreed."

My heart leaps at his words. "Dominic?" I ask, unable to keep the hope out of my voice.

Mika nods, a faint smile on his lips. "He's been asking after you since he learned of your collapse. Your brothers were... reluctant to allow it, but given the circumstances, I think it's time."

I struggle to my feet, ignoring the protests of my aching body. Ciaran moves to help me, but I wave him off. "I'm fine," I insist, even as I sway slightly. "Just take me to him. Please."

“Roisin, sit down!” Ciaran orders. “We’ll bring him to you.”

I reluctantly sink back onto the couch, my heart pounding with anticipation. The minutes stretch endlessly as I wait, straining to hear any sound of Dominic's approach.

Finally, I hear footsteps in the hallway. The door opens and there he is, supported between Liam and another of my brother's men. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of him.

Dominic looks battered and exhausted, his face bruised and his lip split. But his eyes–those intense dark eyes I've come to know so well–light up when they meet mine. Despite his obvious pain, he manages a small, crooked smile.

"Roisin," he breathes, his voice rough.

I'm on my feet before I realize it, stumbling towards him. Liam and the other man ease Dominic onto the couch and I collapse next to him, my hands hovering uncertainly over his injuries.

"Are you okay?" we both ask simultaneously, then share a weak laugh.

"I'm fine," I assure him, even as tears spring to my eyes. "But you..."

Dominic shakes his head, wincing slightly at the movement.

"It's nothing," he says softly, his eyes never leaving mine. "I've had worse." His hand reaches out, trembling slightly, to brush a strand of hair from my face. "You're really okay? The baby?"

I nod, leaning into his touch. "We're both fine. The doctor said it was an anxiety attack and I just need rest." I swallow hard, fighting back tears. "Dominic, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault-"

"No," he interrupts firmly. "None of this is your fault. We both made choices that led us here." His gaze flicks to Mika, then back to me. "I assume you've been told about... the arrangement?"

I nod again, suddenly nervous. "Are you... okay with it? I mean, I know you don't really have a choice, but-"

Dominic's laugh is soft and pained. "Roisin, marrying you isn't exactly a hardship." His expression turns serious. "But I need to know–is this what you truly want? I don't want you to feel trapped into a marriage that wasn’t your choice.”

I feel a rush of warmth at his words, at the sincerity in his eyes. Even battered and exhausted, he's thinking of my well-being first. It only confirms what I already knew in my heart.

I’d like to say more, but with the audience we have, it’s neither the time, nor the place. I’ve already laid myself bare far too much today. I’d at least like a little privacy before I admit my feelings to the man I’m about to marry.

I can only hope that Dominic feels a fraction of what I do, and his words don’t reflect his own opinion.

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

ROISIN

Everything is surreal as the wedding preparations are made. My parents have flown in, and my mother is busy collaborating with Dominic’s mother, Lizzie, and his younger sister, Sienna.

I don’t know why but finding out he has a sister brings home just how much I don’t know about him… and we’re about to get married!

My ignorance puts me on edge. Makes me second guess everything. It’s not exactly fair. We were both thrust into this situation, after all. But it still hammers home my lack of knowledge. Even little things, like a favorite color. Something that was brought into stark reality when I suggested emerald for the bridesmaid dresses and Sienna casually told me he hated green. Since then, I’ve taken a step back and allowed the decisions to be made around me, simply agreeing to whatever suggestions his family makes. The family who know him in a way I don’t, even though we’re about to tie our lives together.

I know the knowledge of a favorite color or even a dislike isn’t crucial, but it’s one more thing I don’t know, and together all those things combine into one giant snowball I can feel rolling towards me, picking up speed, fueled by my insecurities.

As I stand in front of the mirror, trying on my wedding dress for what feels like the hundredth time as it’s continually adjusted to allow for my growing baby bump, I can't shake the feeling of being an imposter. The ivory silk clings to my body but still cleverly disguises my pregnancy, and I barely recognize the woman staring back at me. She looks like a bride, but inside I feel more like a stranger.

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