Page 97 of Forbidden Romeo

Someone seems to have already brought up the bags of loot from our earlier spree. Despite spending an extortionate amount of money, I’m glad I at least have my own clothes to wear. Even if the pajamas Kate picked out are a little too revealing to be practical.

“You going to be okay?” she says, lingering by the door.

“Sure,” I reply, although it doesn’t sound particularly convincing. “Thank you.”

With a final sympathetic wave, Kate closes the bedroom behind her, and I lock myself in. Then immediately fall face-first onto the bed.

I must fall asleep because the next thing I know, the clock on the bedside table reads one AM, and I’m still wearing this ridiculous (albeit gorgeous) dress. With a groan, I get up and head into the bathroom.

It takes me longer than usual to clean myself up. With all the new hair products Craig insisted I get and the makeup that needed scrubbing off, it’s almost 1:30 AM when I reemerge.

But Jack is still nowhere to be seen.

I try not to feel anxious about it; he’s probably just gone back to his penthouse or one of Padraic’s fancy hotels. I wasn’t exactly subtle about being angry back before the fight began, so he’s probably just avoiding me.

Buthewas the one who kept tellingmeto stay close to him. Now he’s abandoned me in a house crawling with people who’d love to savage me with words and worse, and my only ally has already figured out I have a weakness for cold, milky beverages. No matter how dead set Jack was on ‘protecting me,’ I don’t exactly feel safe right now—even with all those locks on the door.

I guess I can just add it to my list of reasons to be mad at him. A list that seems to keep growing with every passing hour.

I wait up until three o’clock before succumbing to a fitful sleep.

Bang.

The pounding on the door sounds like bullets, and my body rips me from my pillow into a defensive position by the window. I glance outside. I’m only three stories up; the fall shouldn’t kill me.

As the pounding continues, I take a moment to soothe my racing heart. It’s just the door, no gunshots yet. But I’m not going to take my chances. I yank open the drawer of Jack’s bedside table and search around for something, anything to defend myself with. Finally, I grasp the hilt of a knife. It’s not big enough to be much use, but it’s better than nothing.

Bang, bang, bang!

My nerves coil tighter with every blow. Four-thirty AM, the clock on the bedside reads as I glance up at it. Somewhere in my sleep-deprived brain, I wonder why Padraic would wait until now to come after me. But I push it aside and adjust my grip on the knife as I slowly approach the door.

Bang, bang–

I swing the door open, taking the perpetrator by surprise, and immediately press the knife into his neck.

“Chroí!”

Jack grins down at me. He seems to have lost two of the three pieces of his suit, and his open shirt reveals a little too much of his chest to be considered decent.

He pokes the knife at his throat as if it’s only a mild inconvenience. “I’m so glad you’re here. Someone locked me out of my room.”

“You’re drunk,” I observe, taking in the scent of hard liquor on his breath.

Jack’s smile fades to a pout. “You don’t look happy to see me.”

“It’s four-thirty in the morning.”

“Is it really?” Jack looks around as if genuinely surprised that the sun is beginning to rise.

The urge to hit him increases with every moment. “Where have you been?”

“Aww, were you worried about me?” Jack says, a doting smile appearing back on his face as he leans lazily against the doorframe.

“No!” I hiss. “You left me behind while you went on a bloody bender. I’mangryat you!”

“Oh no…” Jack slumps down again. “I’m a terrible husband.”

“We aren’t fucking….” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Get inside. Now.”

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