Page 28 of Forbidden Protector

There’s a part of me that wants to argue against it, to deny him that kind of power over me. But for the first time, I see the edges of our friendship beginning to fray.

Tugging too hard on that string may unravel far more than either of us is prepared for right now.

I simply nod. “I’m going to take a sabbatical.”

At least now I have more time to work on the Roisin situation. When it doesn’t completely cripple me with guilt, that is.

Connor watches me closely as I stand and move toward the door.

I’m about to leave when something stops me, tugs me back into the room.

“If I were in Lars O’Neil’s position,” I say quietly, “stuck under Padraic’s thumb while the rest of the world moves on without me, I would let my men go and find a way to defy the man who holds my chains.”

For one brief, satisfying moment, my words seem to resonate with Connor. But just as soon as that gleam of understanding appears, it flickers out.

He merely looks away, back to his fucking papers, and waves me away.

“Get out.”

Chapter Seven

Roisin

There’s a knock on my cell door.

Not that I think there’s even a lock on the door, nor is this lavishly decorated room particularly prisonlike, but still. The sentiment remains.

All I’ve been able to bring myself to do all day is phase in and out of consciousness. At one point, someone must have come in to deliver some food, but it remains untouched on the table. The queasy feeling in my stomach prevents me from even looking at it.

The knocking persists.

It’s getting dark outside now. It’s possible that Arnie would be back by now, which makes ignoring the door all the more appealing.

“Ma’am?” A voice that is decidedly not Arnie’s calls out to me.

It makes sense that a house this big would have more than one occupant, but it still makes me start.

Hurriedly, I pull the bed sheets up to cover my body. I’m still wearing the sweats I put on this morning, but perhaps if my visitor sees me in bed, they might leave me alone.

“Come in?” I answer weakly.

The door opens a crack, and a man I’ve never seen before slides in quietly. Despite his smaller size, he has a very strong physique, hindered only by the age he wears so warmly on his skin. In his hands are numerous bags that he immediately places at the bottom of my bed.

He looks at me kindly and bows his head a little before speaking. “Please excuse the disturbance, ma’am. But Mr. Knight has asked me to prepare you for dinner.”

“Prepare me?” I say with a sarcastic roll of my eyes. “Like some kind of stuffed turkey?”

“Please excuse the turn of phrase,” the man says hurriedly. “My name is Angus. I’m here to help you get comfortable.”

His earnestness immediately makes me feel bad for lashing out.

“Roisin,” I say more quietly. “Although, I suppose you know that already.”

Angus merely bows his head again. “I took the liberty of ordering you some new clothes. The sizing is just an estimate, so please let me know if anything needs to be taken in or exchanged,” he says, gesturing to the bags he’s just laid out before me.

For the first time, my eyes hone in on some of the branded bags. He can’t be serious. “That is completely unnecessary. I have clothes at home.”

But Angus ignores me in favor of placing a smaller brown bag directly on my lap. “I also put together a few toiletries I thought you might benefit from.”

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