Page 136 of Dublin Beast

And then his phone beeps.

It’s not the usual tone. It’s something sharper.

He freezes beneath me, still deep inside me, his arms tightening briefly before he curses under his breath and leans sideways, grabbing for the phone on the nightstand.

The change in him isinstant. From warm, lazy, and loving, to alert and tense. His brow furrows, and when I try to glance at the screen, he subtly shifts it away from my line of sight.

“Bryan?” A cold knot forms in my stomach. “What’s wrong?”

He glances at me—and smiles. Not a full grin, but the kind of smile he gives when he’s trying not to worry me. “Come. Let me clean you up. We need to go out.”

“Now?” I blink, still very naked and ready to call it a night. “You want me to get dressednow?”

He nips my shoulder and grins. “Aye, now. I have an early Christmas present for you and it’s finally ready.”

I narrow my eyes. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“Technically, yes. But why wait? Live in the moment.”

* * *

North Dublin—or Northside, as it’s called—glows outside the car windows, wrapped in twinkling lights and the hush of winter just days before Christmas. The River Liffey glimmers to our right, catching reflections of garland-strung lamp posts and the occasional silhouette of bundled-up couples strolling hand in hand.

Bryan weaves us through the downtown maze of streets and stoplights, and with every turn, my suspicion grows.

He’s quiet. Focused. And I can’t tell if he’s happy, worried, excited, or a combination of all three. Whatever his surprise, it’s important to him.

The building we pull up to has an industrial feel to it but has obviously been refitted and repurposed like its neighboring structures. Cold steel. Concrete. Vast interior. And one hell of a river view.

“Where are we?”

“At the riverfront.”

I arch a brow as he pulls into the small drive and parks. “Yeah, no shit.”

He laughs, getting out and then jogging around to open my door. Taking my hand, he guides us through a frosted glass door. Inside is a little lobby that’s all exposed brick and steel beams leading to another door.

Industrial chic… with an emphasis onindustrial.

He punches a code into an electronic keypad of the second door and when it clicks open, he reveals a narrow stairwell.

He told me how Tag sent him to his loft when his anger got the better of him. How he looked out over the river trying to piece himself back together after I shut him out.

That must be where we are.

“This is Tag’s loft, right?”

“Aye, it is.” He takes my hand and starts climbing.

That’s it. No elaboration. Just a flash of dimples as he starts up the stairs, pulling me along in his wake.

I follow, my mind trying to unravel the mystery.

Maybe this is a sexy little getaway? Except… we didn’t pack. And it’s not like we’re hard up for space or privacy at the castle.

We have our ownwing, for god’s sake. And why would he make me get out of bed—where we were having mind-blowing sex—to come here if he only wanted to have sex. He wouldn’t.

So, what’s the play here?

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