Page 63 of Cherry Auction

Daylight floods in through windows as he leads me through his maze-like mansion, not saying a word. I look up at his gorgeous, god-like face several times, and he meets my gaze with an easy, unconcerned smile.

Meanwhile, I feel like a nervous wreck.

What is seriously going on?

“What is this?” I ask, nerves finally giving out. “Why aren’t you taking me back to the dungeon?”

The Sir facade drops completely and he’s the Donny from the pictures, features soft as they crumple with remorse. “Fuck. Mads—Brooke, I mean. I’m so feckin’ sorry, love,” he says, brogue heavy. “I’ve been an evil gobshite an’ I know t’ere’s no way of makin’ it up to ya. I’m done with it. I’ve been up all night. It kills me but I’ve got ta let ya go. It’s t’e right t’ing. After getting some food in ya, I’m taking ya back to Moira’s.”

“What?” My hand immediately shoots out to grab onto his forearm. “No,” I say sharply, before I even realize what I’m doing. “I can’t— We can’t?—”

He stands up taller, his Sir persona returning. “I’ll answer any question you have, of course, but I’m not sure it will bemuch help as to your actual identity. When I knew you, your name was Madison Harper. You hadn’t been in Dublin long. You spent your younger years in America but I think your father took you overseas with him when?—”

He swallows and breathes out heavily, eyes averting. “—When you were quite young. I never knew anything about your mother.”

He turns away and I follow him as he heads into a huge kitchen.

I feel my eyes go wide as saucers as I try to take in all the gorgeous marble and fine appliances. It’swaybigger than the kitchen at the shelter, and that fed sixty women.

“I’ll talk while I make some omelets.”

“This is just for you?” I gesture around the high-ceiling room.

He nods and pulls open the refrigerator. “You can sit there.” He points to luxury padded stools by the gigantic counter of the center island.

Instead, I wander towards the huge wall of windows. A door leads to a patio deck. Beyond it is a glittering pool and a gigantic, beautifully manicured backyard.

“Did we meet some place like this?” I ask. “At a chalet in Ireland or something?”

I turn back around to see Domhnall shaking his head. “It was a dive of an internet cafe in the bad part of Dublin. You looked over my shoulder and saw I was on a hidden wiki. You asked if I knew the way to the Silk Road and I turned aroundand was knocked on my ass— Fuck,” he winces. “I still can’t believe you were only thirteen or fourteen. To me you just seemed like a gorgeous blonde American bombshell. You looked like Brittney Spears but um… hotter.” He mutters the last word.

“Blonde?” I hold out my brown hair.

“You must’ve dyed it. I’m sure it was part of the gig.” His face hardens. “The fucking bastard knew the blonde would turn the head of any lad.”

I take a small step back and he drags a hand through his hair. “Jaysus, Mads. I’m sorry I blamed you for any of it. I shoulda fucking seen how young you were. None of it was your fault.”

“It wasn’t?” I ask with a small voice.

“Course not! It’s your cocksucker father’s, may he rot in hell!” If I thought his face was hard a moment ago, it’s nothing to the iron jaw he’s got now. He looks absolutely murderous. And I remember the rest of what he said yesterday. About what my father did to him.Over and over and over.

I fly across the room and plaster my arms around him again.

“Hey there,” he says, all softness.

“I’m so sorry.” My voice is barely a whisper.

“I’m alrigh’.”

Is he?

I just nod into his chest, though.

He’s got eggs on the counter. “Can I help you crack them?” I ask.

“You know how?”

“I wanna try,” I say tentatively. I pick up an egg and it feels like I know what to do. I crack it expertly against the bowl with one hand, dropping yolk inside without any shell. I beam up at Domhn. “Look, I know how!”

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