Page 5 of Taming a Ruthless Heart

“Rose… where is she?”I grunt, my voice raspy, barely audible.

My heart lurches; my stomach drops.I stumble toward the window, yanking the curtain back.Outside, nothing but darkness stretches before me, and my nerves knot.There are no familiar landmarks in the pitch-black in front of me, no way to tell where I am or how much time has passed.

I press my hand to the glass, the cool of my breath fogging the surface.“Where’s my baby?”

The question tears through me, frantic and wild.I have taken every precaution to keep Rose safe since the day she was born.But the world feels dangerous now, dark and predatory, and I have no idea where she is.Now I remember clearly.Dave told me his men had already taken her somewhere safe.He promised I’d reunite with her.

I won’t find peace until I see her again.

My hands start to tremble, and I grip the windowsill, trying to anchor myself.Bile rises in my throat, and my knees nearly buckle.

I can’t breathe.

I stagger back from the window, pressing my palms to my face.“Calm down, Alexia.Think,” I mutter.But my mind is racing, spinning in a thousand directions at once, and all I can think about is how badly I’ve failed.I promised myself I’d protect Rose, that I’d never let anyone hurt her, but here I am, locked in a strange room, bruised and drugged, with no clue as to what has happened to her.

As I try to gather my wits, I glance down and realize I’m not wearing my black cocktail dress anymore.It’s been replaced by a large, white button-up shirt.I clutch the crisp fabric in my fists, pulling it tighter around my body, my skin tingling with confusion.My heart skips a couple of beats, and I feel a wave of conflicting emotions wash over me.

Dave must have changed me.The idea of him seeing me like this, stripped of everything, leaves me feeling exposed, vulnerable—but oddly not disgusted, which is very confusing.

There’s safety in knowing Dave is the one who pulled me from the nightmare, but at the same time, there’s an ache—something raw and unhealed.He’s still the man I once loved.Yet, years have passed.So much has changed between us.How could he see me like this—weak, broken—and still want to help me?

I try to bury the memories, but they rise unbidden—the nights we spent together, the way his hands felt on my skin, the way he used to look at me like I was the only person in the world who mattered.But that was years ago, at least five long years.Before everything fell apart.Before I betrayed him and married Igor in an effort to keep everyone I love safe.I did that for Dave, for my father, and for my unborn child.I got nothing for myself out of this rotten deal.Except pain and horror.

The thought of it—the sacrifice I made—tightens like a fist in my chest.Dave never knew.He still doesn’t.How could I tell him the truth?How could I face him after all this time, knowing that the child I kept hidden from him is his, not Igor’s?

Dave always said he wanted a big family, like his parents.Growing up, I was in awe of how his mother, Martha, was loving and caring.Mine was, too, but there was an aura about Mrs.Boyle that captivated everyone in her orbit.My father was good to me, his only child.He was devastated after Mom passed.But he didn’t hold a candle to the way Jack Boyle doted on Martha and their boys.

My worst fear is that Dave would take Rose from me as punishment for hiding her paternity from him.He is a ruthless man, and forgiveness doesn’t come easy to him.I’ve seen him in action many times over the years to doubt this assessment.

Things just turned more complicated now.I must tread a fine line with Dave because he’ll have questions about the danger I’m running from.If I tell him the truth, that Igor plans to sell Rose to the highest bidder, Dave might figure out she’s not Igor’s daughter.Not even an abject monster such as my husband would do that to his own flesh and blood.Or worse, Dave might not believe me and think I’m part of some large conspiracy to hurt him and his family.Igor and the Boyles have been ferocious enemies for a long time.

A soft knock at the door pulls me from my spiraling thoughts, and I stiffen, my heart lurching.The door creaks open, and an older woman steps inside.Her silver hair is pulled back into a neat bun, her face lined with age and experience.My breath catches in my throat when I recognize her.

“Moira?”My voice is barely above a breath.

She has been with the Boyle family for years.She practically raised Dave and his three brothers as their mother’s extremely successful career as a therapist took off and while their father solidified the Boyles’ empire of crime.That also means she knows exactly who I am.

The older woman smiles gently, her eyes soft.“Aye, lass.It’s been too long.”

She moves with practiced grace, setting a tray of food down on the table by the window.The smell of something warm and savory wafts through the room, but I can’t focus on it.My stomach feels too tight with anxiety to accept any food.

Moira scans me with a quiet, unnerving understanding.There’s no judgment, no accusation—just warmth.And yet, I feel like she can see right through me, every secret I’ve tried to bury deep inside.Then again, she was always a great judge of character.

“You’ve been through hell,” she says softly, sitting down beside me on the edge of the bed.Her Irish accent, thick and lilting, is comforting, a small reminder of good moments from my childhood.“But you’re safe here.”

I shake my head, my hands gripping the sheets beneath me.“Where is Rose?”I ask, my voice cracking under the weight of the question.“Is she safe?”

Moira’s face softens.She doesn’t answer immediately.She hesitates, her eyes flicking to the door before meeting mine again.“She’s safe, love,” she says finally, her voice gentle.“But that’s all I can tell you for now.It’s late, past ten.Eat something and get some rest.I’ll come back in the morning.”

I tense, a surge of panic rising up inside me.“No, I need to see her.I need to know she’s okay.”

Moira reaches out, placing a hand on my arm.Her touch is warm, grounding, but it does little to ease the fear gnawing at my chest.“I know you’re worried, lass, but you can’t leave.Not yet.”

I stand up so fast the room spins around me.“I’m locked in here like a prisoner,” I say, my voice rising with frustration.“How is that supposed to help me calm down or stop worrying?”

Moira doesn’t flinch at my outburst, her expression calm and patient.“It’s Dave’s orders.He’s doing what he thinks is best for you and for Rose.”She winks and lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.“And he always knows what’s best in these circumstances.”

Dave.

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