Page 79 of Forbidden Romeo

I bring us to a stop next to the intercom but pause before opening the window.

“You ready,chroí?” I say quietly.

When she doesn’t reply, I look at her again to find her sitting with her eyes closed. The lines of her brow are deeply furrowed, her lips pulled into a thin, displeased frown. She’s worn this face in one form or another since the moment I found her in the alleyway. Even in sleep, there was a tenseness to her jaw that wouldn’t ease.

Yet, as I watch her, it all begins to melt away.

Her mouth breaks into a pleasant smile, and her eyes open again. It’s like she’s become a whole new person, a happy, carefree version of herself—and a caricature of the woman I first met. And here she said Roisin was the actor.

“Yes,” Aimee finally says with a soft tilt of her head. “I’m ready.”

***

The mansion is thankfully quiet as we arrive. But perhaps that’s because, according to the doorman, Padraic has been on the warpath ever since I left.

There’s no avoiding the pure opulence of the place. It’s all tall ceilings and regal architecture—even the corridors are adorned with paintings that make the place feel more like a gallery. For all the distaste the Irish hold for the English, I’ve often thought the King of England wouldn’t seem amiss walking these halls.

Whatever shock Aimee might feel, she seems to have pushed it away. She walks confidently by my side as I take her through each room, barely glancing at the original Monet as we pass by the great lounge.

When we finally reach the doors of my father’s office, the guards stationed there barely acknowledge us.

“Is he in?” I ask, taking a casual step in front of Aimee to block her from a thorough inspection.

The men merely nod at me, and I half turn to Aimee, not trusting the guards enough to take my eyes off them. “Perhaps you should let me go in first?”

“I’ll be right behind you,” she replies quietly.

The guards open the doors for me. I give myself a second, a breath, before striding in purposefully.

Padraic isn’t at his desk as he usually is. Instead, he resides in his armchair with a glass of liquor in his hand. He’s staring blankly into the flames of the fireplace until he hears me enter and looks up.

His face is a storm of incensed rage. “If it isn’t my traitorous bastard.”

“Father,” I greet curtly.

“Care to explain why you beat up three of my scouts and then disappeared off the face of the earth?

I bite my tongue. “It’s a beguiling tale, I assure you.”

“Where the hell have you been?” Padraic snaps, standing from his chair to approach me.

“Busy.”

“You evaded Morris.”

“Aye.”

“Betrayed my order, my final warning.”

“Aye.”

He gets right up into my face, threateningly staring me right in the eye. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t throw you into the Hudson.”

I do not flinch.

“May I introduce you to my fiancé?”

Aimee takes her cue to emerge from the shadows. Her rich red hair flows behind her. Her dark clothes accentuate her hips, her chest, intimidating and yet entirely suggestive. In the time that I’ve known her, she’s never looked quite like this. A vision of pure power.

---