Page 59 of Bargain with the Irish Devil

Miranda

I spend the day with Aoife in the kitchen. She shows me how to make bread, and I’m proud of the loaf I pull out of the oven. Then she shows me how to make the dinner we’re going to have tonight, a chicken pot pie. I’ve never made a pie crust before and am shocked by how easy it is.

Aoife shows me the house phone and Declan’s phone number in case I need to call him. She said he didn’t have time to get my cell phone out of the safe in his office. When she leaves a little after five, I close the door, and the quiet in the house is echoing around me.

I decide to explore the downstairs ofthe house. Opening the back door, I find a large backyard with a partial deck that is an extensionof the three-season porch that ran along the back of the kitchen. There’s also a carriage house with a locked door. The space is beautiful, with large rose bushes along one side of the six-foot privacy fence. To me, it’s sad because it doesn’t appear to be used often when it’s so inviting.

Back in the house, I go down to the basement and am surprised by how nice it is. It’s like its own contained apartment. There’s even a bar with a sink, a small fridge, and a microwave. I find the source of Declan’s yummy muscles in the kind of home gym I would expect. The room holds a heavy punching bag, a treadmill, a rowing machine, a huge amount of free weights, and a weight machine contraption I’ve always found daunting. A small clear fridge holds water bottles and protein shakes.

The bathroom between the gym and bedroom is large, with a soaking tub, but the shower isn’t as big as the one in Declan’s bedroom. The laundry room has a chute from Declan’s bedroom—I had no idea how I missed it. I’m guessing it’s in the walk-in closet. Huh, I always stuck my clothes in the hamper that’s in the massive walk-in closet when I got dressed and undressed.

As I’m walking out of the room, I notice a suit in the large trash. A suit? How bad was it to be thrown in the trash? Declan’s suits are all made to fit him and in the area of five grand each. It would have to be bad to simply throw it away. Curious, I pull it out. My stomach sinks—it’s covered in blood.

Closing my eyes, I drop the suit back into the trash. Declan used the wordshit-soaked. What he meant was blood-soaked. The person who bled all over this suit is dead. They have to be. Did Declan kill them? Has he already killed Ian and Shannon?

The questions haunt me as I make my way back upstairs. Once again, the emptiness of the house is loud all around me.

My father wanted me to trust a capo in the mafia over the police. A person that, in an odd coincidence, the man I’m in love with doesn’t simply know—operates his own business within that capo’s territory. These men were always here, in the background of the city, I just never saw them. They’re here and left alone for the bad guys to police the badder guys. Now that I see them, I can never unsee them. Now the question is: Do I not only see them but live with one?

I walk to the front door and open it. The street is peaceful in the chaos of a city of three million people. A man is walking a tiny chihuahua wearing a pink collar. He waves as he walks by. I lift my hand in answer.

Do I stay or do I go?

CHAPTER 18

Declan

Classical music greets me when I walk through the front door. I find Miranda in the informal living room, reading on the sofa.

Her eyes find me, “I was wondering where you were. Is everything okay?”

Sitting down beside her, I tug her into my arms. “It’s better now that I’m home.”

A little sigh slides out of her as she lays her head on my chest. “Me too. I was so worried that I couldn’t really focus on anything the whole time you were gone. I never thought I’d miss work as much as I do to have something to think about and do.”

Running a hand over her hair, I give in to what I wanted to talk about last night. “I want you to quit.”

Shestiffens and tries to sit up.

I don’t let her go. “Please just listen to me. You give everything to the job. I’m a demanding motherfucker. I don’t like sharing so much of you with anyone or anything, but especially not to a job. There’s no need for you to work. I’ll take care of you.”

Sighing, she tries to push me away. I tighten my arms around her. “Damn it, Declan. Let me go. You can’t just order me to quit my job. Do you have any idea how hard I’ve worked to get where I am? To make what I do. I’m in the corner office with a year-end bonus that used to be what I made.”

“That’s because you had to. You don’t have to anymore. Sell your house and stick the money in your bank account. I’m good to ensure you get what you made put there in a month into your account to spend as you want.”

Shit, now she’s pissed. “I’m not going to take your money to be with you?—”

“What did you get in your prenup with your ex?”

Her forehead wrinkles. “What?”

“A prenup doesn’t just protect the one with money. It’s supposed to protect the one who has to give up everything to be with them. When I married Orla, her father was adamant money be paid to her every month for her to spend as she wanted. In my world, women don’t work. To be out in the public gives others the opportunity to get close to you and me. I understand how important it is to you to be independent. The money you will get every month gives you that independence.” I explain.

I exhale the breath I didn’t realize I was holding while she considers my argument.

“It feels wrong.” Her voice is low.

Running a finger over her lips, I shake my head. “It’s not—for you or me. I’m well aware you aren’t with me for my money. Take some time to enjoy yourself and me,” I chuckle at the way she rolls her eyes.

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