Page 137 of Merciless Desires

When my brothers died, Papa shut down. Perhaps he wanted to get rid of all of us. First me, then… My heart stops, worrying about Katya again. But my sister is smart. I managed to escape. If Papa tried to hurt her, she would, too.

Perhaps I should write her a letter about where I really am. Now that I’m in a safe space, if she needs to get away, she could come here.

My stomach growls as I dress in yet more of Darragh’s wife’s clothes. Sophie woke up late in the afternoon yesterday and just wanted some soup. I microwaved myself a bowl, too, and ate it in my room. I don’t know what Darragh did for dinner.

I hated how we ended last night. I feel so drawn to him, and that’s wrong. Or am I just seeing Cormac how he used to be? It’s so confusing.

Pushing all of that aside, I pad into the kitchen and look around, feeling such a sense of peace. Papa’s house, our house, was bigger than this, but with all that harsh Russian spoken and guards with guns everywhere, it never felt like a home. I felt like I lived in a cold presidential palace.

In the cabinet below where I found the tea I made for me and Darragh, I find pancake mix. Opening the refrigerator, I grab milk, a few eggs, and, in another pantry, a large red ceramic bowl. I make one batch and even get a little creative, sprinkling cinnamon and adding fresh blueberries.

The stove is a six-burner monstrosity with a flattop in the center, which saves me time looking for a skillet. I fire up the griddle, grease it with a pat of butter, and then scoop out two ladles’ worth. They fluff up beautifully. One flip and they are golden. I’m ready to eat the raw batter, I’m so hungry.

I let the other side cook as I search for a plate. Opening cabinets and drawers, I realize everything is in short supply. Spotting the dishwasher, I open it, and the telltale smell of detergent hits me. With everything inside sparkling, I know it’s all clean.

I plate the pancakes, and while they cool down, I start emptying the dishwasher, wanting to help out. A throat clearing stills me as I turn around, holding a small cereal bowl.

Darragh stands there shirtless in black sweats that sit very low on his hips.

And he’s eating my pancakes.

He picks one up with his hands and takes a huge bite.

“Good?” I ask him, crossing my arms.

“Fucking incredible.”

“Glad you enjoy them.”

He looks around. “Where’s your plate?”

“In your hand. Those were mine.”

He blushes and puts the plate down. “Shite, I’m sorry.”

“Shite? You talk like that, too?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Let’s just say all these shocking reminders of home are dragging me back to a place I couldn’t wait to get away from.”

I round the island, passing him, soaking in the musky smell of his skin. I turn the burner back on and make two more pancakes. “We have that in common. Hopefully, you understand that and will let me go.”

“Not until the baby is born.” He eyes me, daring me to bring up our argument last night.

“Since you told me it’s a boy, I… I feel different. All the kicking. It makes sense now.” I flip the new batch, not looking at him anymore.

“We’re going to find out for sure today. I’m taking you to my hospital in the afternoon. I know who’s on that shift. She’ll do an ultrasound and—”

“I told you, they did one in the infirmary.”

He cocks his head. “Excuse me if I don’t trust a Las Vegas prison nurse.”

“I can’t argue there.” I glance at the clock. “When does Sophie wake up?”

“Any minute.” He finishes his pancakes and rinses off the plate. “That was delicious. What else can you cook?”

“I had fun making use of the kitchen in the villa. I never learned to cook growing up, but now I can cook pretty much anything.”

“Good. Feel free to use the kitchen and cook whatever you like while you’re here.” Darragh’s smooth, bare ivory chest and sculpted muscles take my breath away. “What? What are you staring at?”

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