Page 82 of Demanding Mob Boss

"Why can't I spend the night at home?"

When no more words will come, I hang up and text her.

Me:Because it might not be safe.

Ini:Why???

Me:IDK

Ini:That doesn't make sense.

Me:Wouldn't be the first time.

Ini:Not funny.

I wasn't joking. Was I? I don't think I was. Ini loves me but there are lots of times my thought process doesn’t make sense to her. I want to tell her about the police picking me up, but I don’t have the words right now. Besides, if I tell her, she'll get angry with Cian and blame him. She'll insist I come back to the apartment.

I can't do that.

Me:Please.

Ini:Okay. But I'm giving that boyfriend-slash-boss of yours a piece of my mind the next time I see him.

Relieved and out of words, I don't reply. I know Ini won't be mad. She understands when I get like this.

I'm surprised when we pull into the underground parking garage for the Doyle building, but I don't ask why we're here. I'm done talking. Arlo is carrying my bag from the bookstore. Tommy has my purse. I left both behind when I got out of the SUV.

We stop at the floor which has both Jimmy and Cian's office suites, but no one steps out of the elevator. Giving me a small smile, Connor steps in and then he swipes a card against the space above the buttons before pressing his thumb against it as well.

The elevator starts to move again. When it opens, there is a lobby with a set of double doors opposite the elevator, a hallway to the right and another to the left. Cian lives here? In the building? How did I not know that?

"My apartment is down there." Connor waves toward the hall on the left. "Lachlan's is too." He indicates the hall on the right. "That's where the workout room and pool are.

I nod because it feels like Connor expects some sort of acknowledgement.

He heads to the double doors opposite the elevator. Connor puts his entire palm on the reader to the right of the door and then a mechanism pops out that scans his eye. He types in a code on a box above the door handle and then a small whir and click sound.

He opens the door and ushers us all inside.

He's careful not to touch me as I move by him. "Cian might be a while. He wants me to get you dinner. If you want a shower, use his bathroom." Connor rolls his eyes. "My cousin is a control freak. Anyway, he says wear whatever clothes you want from his closet."

I nod and tilt my head in inquiry.

We are standing in an open concept living area with a gleaming modern kitchen, a sunken living room with a huge leather sectional facing a television that takes up half of the wall. Behind it is a dining table that seats six and beyond the floor to ceiling windows is a large terrace.

There is a short hall to my right and another to my left, past the kitchen.

"His bedroom is down that hall." Connor points to my left.

I nod and head in that direction. What I find is not a bedroom, but a master suite even larger than my aunt and uncle's. The bathroom is to my left and it's what I imagine a spa would be like. Stone tile floors and walls in shades of brown encompass a shower with a sparkling clear glass wall. It doesn't have a door, just an opening. To the right is a large, jetted tub.

I haven't taken a bath since moving out of my aunt and uncle's home two years ago. I used to love the quiet of a long soak, letting my head submerge until only my face was above the hot water. Our apartment only has a cubicle style shower in the small bathroom, the entirety of which would fit inside Cian's shower area.

I turn on the taps, letting the tub start to fill before peeling out of my clothes. I leave them in a neat pile on the floor. They are dirty. I cannot put them back on. Not afterhetouched them. They smell like the detective's car too and every time a whiff of the scent assaults my nostrils, I want to vomit.

I kick the whole pile to the furthest spot from me and the bathtub in the bathroom.

Looking in the mirror, I see bruises forming on my left breast, the nipple is still red from being pinched so hard. There is no visible trace otherwise that the detective put his hands on me, but I can feel his touch still, like he left a layer of dirt behind.

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