Page 42 of Corrupted Union

“You know, considering you’re a big-bad gangster, you’re pretty good at taking care of people—and I don’t mean in the six-feet-under way, although you may be good at that, too. I’d prefer not to find out.”

“I’m just a man, nothing more, nothing less.”

“Mmm, I’m not so sure about that.”

“No?”

I shook my head, plucking a grape into my mouth. “You have this larger-than-life quality.”

He huffed. “Wait till you meet my dad. He fills a room like no one else I know.”

It occurred to me that I knew nothing about his family. “Tell me about him and your mom. Do you have siblings?”

He nodded. “Three, all younger. My brother, Quinn, then the girls, Nora and Maeve. She’s the baby, just turned twenty-four.” Baby? She was two years older than me.

My eyes lifted to him. “So … how old are you?”

His gaze met mine. “Thirty-two.”

Wowza, ten years older. That’s pretty hot, Ro. Think of all the things he can teach you.

Blood rushed to my cheeks.

“That a problem?” he asked, though his voice didn’t carry any concern.

“Nope.” I popped the P.

“Good. Grab those plates and let’s go outside.” He picked up the remaining dishes and walked to an enormous sliding glass door.

We set the plates on a double-wide chaise lounge overlooking the shoreline. A small row of grass-covered dunes lay between us and the waves, but the house sat high enough to see over them. The sky was overcast, and the churning water a soupy brown, but it was still beautiful. The steady rolling of the waves was a cathartic reminder that life was more than the sum of my current problems.

We sat together in the lounger, my crossed legs occasionally making contact with his thigh and sending a burst of tingles up to more intimate areas. We ate and watched the gulls. Some came close in hopes of scavenging our leftovers. I could hardly wrap my brain around the fact that I was sitting on a beach, eating lunch with my new husband.

Keir Byrne. Did that make me Rowan Byrne? I supposed so, but the whole thing felt so odd. How long would it last? Surely, he hadn’t meant for this to be permanent.

“Keir?” I ventured, breaking our comfortable silence.

“Hm?”

“Why did you do it?” I didn’t explain what I meant. I didn’t have to. He knew. Once the words were out, however, a part of me wished I could gobble them back down. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hear his answer. I felt like a grade-schooler asking a playground crush if they liked me. It seemed absurd, but so was my entire situation.

“The man you saw with Alexander—the man with the scar—is incredibly dangerous. The only way to make him think twice about touching you was to claim you. That way, he has the government and the Irish to contend with if something happened to you.” His answer made perfect sense, so why did it sting? What exactly had I been expecting him to do, profess his unrequited love for me?

He wanted to keep you safe. That says something, right?

“I suppose I should thank you. I can’t imagine you wanted to find yourself married out of nowhere.”

“It definitely wasn’t how I saw things unfolding,” he murmured, eyes on the horizon.

Another zing of pain confirmed my suspicion. I wanted Keir to want me. Not just to protect me or feel a duty toward me, I wanted him to see me as more.

I was a piece of work.

“So why bring me here?” Our ruse hadn’t exactly required a makeshift honeymoon.

“Give you time to process and for word to get out.” He slid a piece of cheese into his mouth, totally oblivious to the impact his words would have.

The food in my stomach turned rancid.

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