Page 88 of Vengeful Union

He’s nothing like my father, despite the fact that they work in the same arena. There’s a sour taste in the back of my mouth as we dance, but I don’t speak up, not wanting to provoke him.

I have to be careful in a way that I don’t have to be with my father’s men.

“Wonder what sounds you make when—” Niall starts, and then someone pulls me away from him, just as he’s started to draw me closer, his hand on my hip, making me feel like crawling out of my skin.

I’m relieved but also afraid until I look into Rory’s blue eyes, so much like his father’s but also different, kinder. I nearly slump into his arms, and he glares at his father over my head.

“All you had to do was ask to cut in, boyo.”

Rory doesn’t respond, taking me into his arms and moving away from his father.

Niall chuckles and leaves the dancefloor, headed for the open bar.

“Are you all right?” he asks me in a low tone, his eyes searching my face.

“Fine,” I lie, watching Niall’s back as he sits at the bar.

I have no idea what he was going to say to me before Rory cut in, and I don’t want to know.

“Tell me what happened.” Rory’s voice is commanding and usually I give in, but tonight, I don’t want to talk about it. Niall’s awful, but he’s still Rory’s father.

“Nothing. We just talked.”

“He didn’t?—”

I put my arms around his neck, swaying my hips to the music, trying to shake off my anxiety.

“Drop it.”

Rory’s jaw ticks as he grits his teeth, but he does what I ask, not hounding me for answers.

I lean up to whisper in his ear, hoping I won’t be heard by anyone else on the dancefloor.

“Did you find anything?”

“A couple of things. Nothing concrete, though.”

“Something is better than nothing.”

When the song ends, I’m sweating. It’s hot under the lights, and it’s not like I’ve been able to stay in shape or go to the gym lately. I’ve been stuck in the Murphy mansion for too long.

I take Rory’s hand, not wanting him to leave my side, and lead him over to a nearby empty table.

I sigh when I sit down, my feet aching.

Rory raises an eyebrow when I put my feet in a chair across from me. He chuckles lowly.

“Do you always prop your feet up at galas?”

I huff out a breath. “No, but since I didn’t want to go to this one anyway, I figure who cares if I’m impolite?”

“Did something happen while I wasn’t here?”

“I asked you to drop it.”

Rory stands, and I scramble out of the chair, afraid to be separated from him.

“I’m just going to the bar for a drink.”

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