Page 82 of Vengeful Union

“Just thinking about Miles and Kael,” I lie, hoping to cover up the way I feel about him.

I can’t tell him. Not now. There’s too much going on, and besides–what if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if he just wants this over?

Sex is sex, it doesn’t have to be love, even though the way he kisses me... the way he looks at me...

“I’m so sorry.” Rory lies down next to me and gathers my nude body in his arms, warming my cool skin.

I bury my face in his chest, letting it all wash over me, the heartbreak, the worry.

There’s so much to worry about. How Rory feels about me. What will happen with Niall. My brothers, my dad, my sister...

I let go, clutching onto his shirt, getting as close as I can get to him, and Rory murmurs soothing words into my ear, brushing my hair back from my face.

After a few long moments, I pull away, brushing tears from my cheeks.

“Now my face is going to be all puffy,” I whine, and Rory chuckles.

“Go wash your face with some cold water. I’ll pick out my tux.”

He pats me on the butt as I get up, and I can’t help but giggle despite the fact that I was crying just a moments ago.

I splash the water on my face in the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror.

My eyes are red, and I press the heels of my hands against them.

You have to get through this, Lara.

The voice in the back of my head is right. This gala is going to be awful, especially with Niall and his men there, but I have to do it. I have to look the part of prisoner, even though I’ve fallen in love with my captor.

I take a deep breath and head back into the bedroom.

Rory’s already put on his tux, and his shoulders look broader than ever in the tailored suit.

“You look great,” I mumble, and he hands me the dress, giving me a half-grin.

“You’ll look better.”

I smile. “I guess I should thank Bree for the dress.”

Rory chuckles, buttoning his sleeves and putting on a pair of monogrammed silver cufflinks.

I sit down on the bed and tug on the stilettos, grateful that Bree and I wear the same shoe size.

“I have a plan,” Rory says, and I look up at him, frowning.

“A plan? For the gala?”

“It’s the only time my father will be out of the house and takes his men with him. I want us to stay behind somehow, get into his office. There has to be some kind of proof there.”

“He’s never going to allow that.”

“You’d be surprised. He trusts me.” Rory looks at himself in the mirror, adjusting his bowtie and sweeping his hair back from his face.

I swallow hard. “All right, but we have to be careful.”

“Of course.” Rory holds out his arm.

I wrap my hand around his bicep and let him lead me out of the room.

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