Page 31 of Bargain with the Irish Devil

I count to thirty after he closes my door before leaving the safety of the bathroom. Poking my head out, I sigh in relief to see he’s gone. I go into the closet to find what I want to take back to Declan’s. Only as I stand in it, I don’t see a single thing. The clothes, bras, and panties he got me are better than anything I have in here. I give in and grab a few sleeping shirts, more because I can’t go back with nothing.

Wait, a toothbrush. I need a toothbrush and shoes and the pure cotton tampons. And my deodorant. Okay, yes, there is stuff Ineed. My shoes are downstairs by the door. I only have a few pairs, mainly leather flats for work and leather slip-ons for running around doing errands on the weekend. The few pairs of high heels I have only collect dust since I divorced Michael and didn’t dress to impress clients anymore.

I grab a small carry-on suitcase I haven’t used since before my divorce and throw everything in it. There’s so much room left. Wait, my eReader. I run to grab it along with the charger for it and my cell phone.

Tucking them into the top pocket, I sigh at how little I truly need. Whatever, I’m not telling Declan that.

Downstairs, I find Declan prowling around the living room. When he sees me, he stops, and the smile on his face hits me square in the chest. For a moment, I stumble.

Faster than I thought possible, he’s in front of me, catching me close against his hard body. “Careful, love. Are you all right?”

Embarrassed. I nod. “I’m fine. I missed a step.”

I gasp when he picks me up and carries me down the remainder of the stairs. “Are you crazy? Put me down. You’re going to drop me.”

A snort. “Please. You’re nothing.”

I should not be enjoying this as much as I am. To the point, I’m a little sad when he sets me down. Shaking my head, I sigh. “You are nuts. I need to grab my laptop from my office.”

“No, love, no computer in the house. No electronics at all.” Declan shakes his head.

“What? Why not?”

“Security.” It’s clipped, unyielding.

Once again, it’s a reminder of why this is all wrong. “I can’t even have my eReader?”

“Let me see it.” He holds out his hand.

Annoyed, I take it out of the pocket of the suitcase. I’mjustglad I didn’t have to open it forhimto see how little I have.

Waking it up, he works it far quicker than I thought he could. Shaking his head, he hands it back. “No.”

“Fine.” I grab two pairs of shoes and stuff them in one of the many tote bags I keep by the door for when I run errands.

Without another look at Declan, I leave.

It’s even more annoying when he gets to the car before me and opens my door for me.

In the car, he sighs. “It’s for your security and mine.”

“No, it’s because you’re worried about cops and the FBI. If I weren’t with you, I wouldn’t need security. All it is is a reminder that I have valid fucking reasons to not get involved with you. If something happens and my company catches wind of even whispers of me involved with someone like you, I could lose my job and a career I’ve worked for.”

Another sigh. But he doesn’t argue.

The entire drive back to his home, he doesn’t say a word.

When we’re back inside, I go upstairs. He calls to me, but I don’t even pause. As I close and lock my door, all I hear is a muttered curse.

On Monday,I don’t wake up until almost nine. However, this time, Declan isn’t downstairs.

I stop for lunch at one, and at five on the dot, Colm enters the office and tells me I’m to stop working. It takes everything in me not to argue with him. Because I know he’s simply following Declan’s orders.

Dinner is a roast I share with Declan. He’s polite. There’s no more teasing, flashing of his dimples, or even a smile that reaches his eyes. He asks about my favorite things to do in the city, my favorite books, and even my favorite color. Yet it feels like surface only, as if he simply wanted me to fill the silence of the meal. When I escape to my room while he’s taking the dishes into the kitchen, he lets me without a word.

It’s the same thing Tuesday and Wednesday. Thursday, he doesn’t come home before I go to bed. Friday, I don’t see him at all. He sleeps late. I hear him come downstairs and leave twenty minutes later. I’m told by Aoife he won’t be home for dinner.

I don’t miss him. Not his stupid dimples or smiles. And definitely not his teasing and laughter. I’m grateful he isn’t trying to charm me anymore—beyond grateful.

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