Page 20 of Bad at Heart

I have barely sat here for five minutes when the bedroom door opens. Surging out of my seat, I start to cross the room as Fiona barges out, her face like thunder. Mellie follows, looking distraught.

“I’m sorry, Fi. I’ll drop it. Please be reasonable.”

I almost snort. When in her life has the lass ever been reasonable? My smirk drops off my face at Fiona’s words.

“I’m leaving. Someone better take me home right now, or I’ll get the bus.”

Growling, I cross to her, my hands closing around her arms. “Ye’re not going anywhere,leannán.”

“I’m not your sweetheart,” she spits back with more feeling than I’ve ever heard her use. My head jerks back in surprise. “I’m leaving. If you try to keep me here, I’ll call the cops.”

My eyes narrow, but Fiona meets my glare with her intense one. Jesus fuck, the lass is serious. She’ll call the cops on me. My teeth grit, but I force the words out.

“Fine. I’ll take ye home.”

“And you won’t be staying there.”

We’ll see about that.

Mellie helps Fiona gather her purse and carefully hooks it over her shoulder, hugging the lass.

“Call me. I want daily check-ins. If you can’t do anything, let me know, and I’ll come and help out.”

The Reaper won’t like it.

“Thanks, Mellie. I’ll be okay.”

I lead her down to the basement garage where I have parked my SUV, lifting her in. Fiona lets me clip her belt but doesn’t speak or even look at me as I drive through Boston to Roxbury.

Pulling up in front of her building, I move to help her out, but before I can open my door, Fiona is unclipped and out of the car, wincing as she moves her poor hands too quickly.

“Thanks for the lift, Ronan.” The door slams, and she’s in the building in a flash. Jesus fuck. One day, I will teach the lass a lesson in self-preservation because she’s currently deficient in that department.

Chapter Eight

FIONA

My hands are finally healed. Thank god. I haven’t worked in over five days. I had to sneak out this morning to avoid my landlord again.

I still owe him all that back rent, and I don’t want to be evicted. Niall’s nice about letting me stay in their spare room occasionally, but I don’t think he’d let me move in.

Ronan’s been riding me hard to tell him who sent the powder. You would have thought it would have been obvious how irritating he was being when I moved back home in an attempt to avoid him.

Unfortunately, Ronan didn’t take the hint. When I went back to Mellie’s condo to have coffee, he was there. Annoying the hell out of me, pestering me to tell him who sent the powder.

It’s a pity he’s so annoying because the night I slept in his arms was wonderful. I don’t think I have felt so safe or slept so well since I was a little kid.

Striding into the dressing room, my eyes find the setlist taped to the wall-to-ceiling mirrors. Fuck. My eyes narrow, and I jab my name on the list, running my finger up and down. I can’t believe this!

Even though he knows I haven’t worked for the last five days, Ronan has still only got me on one set tonight. I stop myself from running in there and yelling at him. I need to play this right.

Rifling through my outfits, I find a sexy blue one with see-through bra cups. It matches my eyes. I shed my clothes, step into it, and drop into my chair to do my hair and makeup.

I’m still stewing when I’m finished, looking sexy as fuck. Standing, I cross to the door, striding down the hallway until I reach Ronan’s office door, pounding on it.

“Come in,” his gruff voice rings out. Damn right, I’m coming in.

I shove the door open and stride inside. Ronan blinks up at me in surprise as the door slams shut behind me and I stalk up to his desk. Planting my hands on it, I lean across as far as possible.

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