Page 78 of Forbidden Romeo

“As long as we work together,” I say, finally landing on an appropriate response.

She nods, getting a faraway look in her deep, chocolate eyes. “Copy that.”

I have to remind myself to focus on the road. “And stay close.”

“Sure,” she says a little too quickly.

“I mean it, Aimee. I don’t want you wandering around on your own.”

She snorts. “Worried I might find something incriminating in a house full of criminals?”

“No, I’m worried those ‘criminals’ will take their chances with you,” I reply, taking a corner a little too aggressively.

“I thought you said they wouldn’t touch me if they knew I was your fiancé?”

“Well, no one has ever had a fiancé that looked like you,” I say honestly. Theoretically, the lieutenants should discipline their men if they step out of line. But when they’re thinking with their cocks… there’s no way of knowing what lengths they might go to.

At least Aimee seems unperturbed. “Is that meant to be flattering?”

“Yes,” I say, a smile tugging on my lips, knowing exactly how much my response will wind her up.

“It’s going to be a long few days, isn’t it?” she groans to herself.

I don’t bother correcting her. Thereisa possibility that all of this will be over in a few days. A very tiny possibility, but it’s still there. Unfortunately, knowing Padraic, his revenge on me will probably drag on longer than needed. All I can do is pray he keeps Aimee out of it.

“Remember,” I say, shaking off the thought. “We’re deeply in love. You don’t know anything about your brother because you’ve been out of town these last few years….”

“Idon’tknow anything about my brother,” Aimee points out.

“Then that part will be easy for you.” I leave the ‘deeply in love part’ dangling between us.

Aimee coughs. “How did we meet?”

That makes me pause… I hadn’t thought of that. “Hospital?”

“No,” Aimee replies determinedly. “I’d rather keep them out of this.”

“Okay, so what?”

We finally reach the road leading up to the mansion, and I slow down. The cameras have probably already identified the car, so we may as well give Padraic more time to cool off.

“We met at a bar,” Aimee says, drawing me back to our conversation.

“Which one?”

“A nice one; I don’t remember the name.”

“How long ago?”

“A month.”

I nod; that fits the timeline, at least. “Isn’t that a short time to be getting engaged?”

“Love is love, right?”

I glance at Aimee. Her face is carefully schooled into a neutral expression. There was no malice in her voice, no resentment. But I can’t help but feel a twinge of pain at her words, the deadness of her tone.

Looking back at the road, I realize we’re approaching the front gates. Perhaps that’s why Aimee has gone so still.

---