Page 19 of Forbidden Romeo

Four results for ‘Maguire.’

My heart starts to beat faster in my chest as I scan through the names.

Ezra Maguire. Columbia University.

Joel Maguire. Barnard College.

Matthew Maguire-Smith. Rochester Institute of Technology.

Then, finally:

Roisin Maguire. Juilliard.

I stare at the name, committing it to memory. “Well, she sounds Irish enough.”

“You really think it’s a lead?” Ray says quietly, running the name through social media. A blurry profile picture of a redhead pops up, and he clicks on it. Private. Damn.Ray could break through the encryption, but I don’t think he’ll let me push “one look” that far.

I bring up my own phone and type ‘Roisin Maguire New York’ into my preferred search engine. “Probably not.”

A link comes up to an event happening tonight. “Hey, Ray?”

“Hm?” he replies as he logs into a few burner accounts, no doubt to try and get Roisin to accept a friend request.

“Did that say she was at Julliard?”

Ray looks at me. “What did you find?”

I turn my phone toward him, and his jaw drops.

***

I lean against the brick building opposite the theater, smoking a cigarette. I don’t usually smoke; it’s just a bad habit I picked up from Graham to help with the stress.

The show had already started by the time I got here—sneaking out of the Duffy mansion had taken longer than I’d anticipated. But swearing Ray to secrecy was an easy enough task, especially when I promised him he’d be the first person to know if the lead was warm.

Everyone else descended on the hospital, but so far, it seemed like the trail had gone cold there. If I’m right and I can bring Padraic not one buttwoMaguire sisters, he’ll have no choice but to reinstate me as a lieutenant. Especially if everyone else fails to deliver even a lead.

I finish my cigarette just as the crowds begin to exit the building, and I scan the crowds for anyone who looks even vaguely familiar. As predicted, the off-Broadway musical about comic book characters attracted a very particular kind of audience. More than a few are sporting synthetic red hair, making my task all that harder.

I switch tactics and bee-line for the stage door. It’s down a quiet alley, and thankfully, there are no crazed fans waiting outside already. I do a quick scan of my surroundings as I approach. No cameras. Good. I reach for the handle and find it unlocked.

Could it really be this easy? I’m just going to walk straight in?

Only, as I push down the handle, the door swings open, and I come face-to-face with a startled brunette.

“Oh!” she huffs as she regains her balance. With my arm as her anchor. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think anyone would be coming in.”

She snatches her hand away as soon as she realizes her mistake and looks up at me—another apology on her pretty lips.

But the words don’t come out.

Our eyes meet, and it’s like someone has blown the air out of my lungs. Her soft features gawk at me, no doubt a mirror of my own expression. Eyes like melted chocolate stare deep into mine. I’m transfixed by the dimple in her mouth, the kindness of her expression, and the way her dark hair falls perfectly around her face. I’ve never seen anyone so lovely in my entire life.

Her heart-shaped face suddenly fills with color, and she looks away, releasing me.

“It’s quite all right,” I say slowly, hoping she might look at me again.

I’m rewarded with a smile so sweet it makes my chest ache. She steps to one side and holds open the door. “Did you want to come in?”

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