Page 103 of Ireland

People began to file out of the studio in a semi-steady stream.

She stood and felt the stiffness that had begun to settle into her muscles. She’d missed too many days in the studio dealing with work and Ronan—she’d feel it in the morning. She could add those physical aches and pains to the emotional ones she was feeling and be a complete package of misery and suffering.

Ronan stood with her and followed as she walked away from the studio.

“I don’t think we have to look that far ahead, Ireland. We start and end the day together and deal with whatever happens in between as it comes.”

“That sounds like winging it instead of an actionable plan.”

“We’re smart, we’ll figure it out.” His tone was light, but the subtle tension in his body belied his teasing.

“I want you,” Ireland said matter-of-factly, pulling out her phone to order a rideshare pickup. “I haven’t ever wanted anything as badly.”

“Why do I hear abutin there?” he asked gruffly, his hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts.

She still couldn’t believe he’d come back to New York, that he’d tracked her down to tell her he was fixing the mess he’d made. But it was too late. It had always been too late.

“But I don’t want to live a life split in two, Ronan,” she finished.

Catching her by the elbow, he stopped her. “You know you can’t pick and choose who you feel this way about. Do you think you’ll find this again? You’re young,cher, but you’re not naive.”

He was angry. Ireland could see it, hear it. And she was angry, too. But at the circumstances, not him. She cupped his face in her hand, then lifted onto her toes to kiss the side of his mouth. His torn lip looked painful, and she regretted hitting him. She hadn’t been herself since she met him, in good and bad ways. And she knew he was acting out of character, too.

Jules thinks I’ve lost my mind,he’d told her.

Ronan caught her by the hips, kissing her back, heedless of his injury.

It felt so wonderful to be with him, near him, kissing him. It was so hard to push away, and he resisted her efforts to do so.

“Stop,” she muttered against his desperate kisses. “Stop.Stop!”

Wrenching away, Ireland put distance between them, her lips tingling from contact with his. Misery spread like a chilling fog through her chest, making it hard to catch her breath. “I can’t do this, Ronan. It’s too high a price to pay to belong to you.”

His hands were white-knuckled at his sides, but he didn’t pursue her. “You don’t think I’m worth it.”

“You are,” she said, digging deep for the strength to keep backing away. “But I can’t afford you. And once you really think about it, you’ll see the same is true for you, too.”

Waiting for the second pot of coffee to finish brewing, Eva watched Chase, Raúl, her father, Angus, and Gideon survey the floorplan and evacuation routes of the Bellingham Hotel and its ballroom while standing around her penthouse dining table.

This was usually one of the more exciting days of the year for her, but she couldn’t work up even the slightest bit of anticipation. She’d consider bowing out if it were any other event, but the masquerade was highly publicized. Guests worked for months with designers to curate their fashions to highlight elaborate masks that fit the year’s theme, and the photographs from the red carpet were widely circulated for a week or more after the event. While she and Gideon no longer walked the red carpet ofanyevent after her mother’s murder, declining to attend the masquerade altogether wasn’t an option because she wouldn’t give whoever was sending them gruesome rhymes the satisfaction of seeing her hide.

Pulling the now-full carafe out of the coffeemaker, Eva carried it to the table and refilled the mugs that needed refreshing. It was half past eight in the morning, but Gideon hadbeen focused on security for the masquerade since they’d found the crossbow bolt.

They’d left the beach early, returning to the city Thursday evening. It was no longer considered safe for them to be at the Outer Banks house, so they hadn’t spent another night. While the team gathered information and evidence, Gideon had broken the communications embargo they’d always maintained at the beach house—yet another choice that had been taken from them—to work on beefing up security at the masquerade, which was already substantial and would now be exceptionally so. Many of their guests would attend with their own security personnel, which was usually a logistical nightmare but appreciated this year.

Gideon caught her by the waist when she came close, pressing a brief kiss to her temple even as his eyes remained trained on the specific areas around the ballroom and its mezzanine that Chase was pointing out to him. Her husband was always aware of her and physically affectionate, but he’d been payingtooclose attention to her, and she knew he was concerned. He often asked her how she was feeling, and the truth was that she didn’t know.

For her husband, there was life before the crossbow bolt and life after, with a clearly delineated line between the two, but nothing was different for her. Their situation was precisely the same, and its effect on their lives—for her—was also unchanged.

She sighed and returned to the kitchen. It was a mistake to have brought up her desire for a child when she had. Her timing could not have been worse. Gideon was altered by her confession; she could feel it. There was an edgy impatience to how he was tackling the issue of their safety as if the urgency of her biological clock was something he now felt. The others could feel the difference, too. She saw the furtive glances they sentGideon’s way, and their elevated somberness was an oppressive weight in the air.

Gideon loved her too much. Knowing she wanted something only he could give her was driving him hard, and he would push himself harder for her than for himself. While he still spoke with his usual measured command, seemingly as calm and collected as ever, his energy felt almost…frantic.

Putting the carafe back on the warming plate, she gripped the edge of the countertop and bowed her head. It would be a long day followed by an even longer evening. Then they’d have the weekend to face how they were trapped in their penthouse, unable to travel as they’d planned because a stalker was close enough to know where they’d be even when they acted spontaneously.

“Eva.”?

Her father’s voice had her straightening in a rush, gathering her self-control as best she could. She and Gideon couldn’t both be off their game simultaneously. One had to support the other, so she would shore him up and give him whatever strength she could.

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