Page 24 of Claiming Genevieve

“Yes.” The word comes out hushed, small, and I hate how ashamed I sound. Like it was my fault. But a part of me can’t help but think that it was. “I shouldn’t have let you into the apartment. I should have known better?—”

“Hush, lass,” Rowan says sharply. “You’re not at fault for a man striking you, do you understand me? There’s no justification for it, and I won’t hear any.” His jaw tightens. “We’re almost there.”

The car pulls into an underground garage, and Rory parks, coming around to open the door for us. Rowan slides out first, helping me out, and as much as I hate that I need to let him, I know I’m not going anywhere completely under my own power. My ankle is throbbing, and I’m reminded that I haven’t taken any pain medicine yet this morning. I can feel the dull ache of hunger too, from not having eaten yet, but the panicked nausea from everything that’s happened so far this morning is overlaying it somewhat.

Rowan scoops me up again, carrying me into the building and to another elevator, and I blink when he pulls out a keycard and taps it against the reader. “Another penthouse?” I roll my eyes. “You wealthy men really are all the same.”

“Hush, lass,” Rowan says sharply, his gaze narrowing as he looks down at me. “I’d forgive you a lot,taibhseach, but I won’t hear you comparing me to that asshole I laid out earlier. I’m not the same as him.”

“He never kidnapped me,” I point out, but I know it’s a weak comparison. Rowan knows it too, because I see irritation flare in his eyes. I’m getting under his skin, and a part of me wants to keep poking and prodding. Fighting with him feels like a release, like a way to get out all of the pressure trapped inside of me, the clawing emotions—and I know that’s not healthy. But we seem to bring it out in each other.

Rowan carries me down the hall, tapping another key, and opens the door. When we step in, I’m faced with yet another grand penthouse apartment—but this one couldn’t be more different from Chris’s.

Everything in Chris’s that was cold and sterile is warm and welcoming here. The floors are a warm wood, with large tufted rugs in earthy colors stretched out in various spots—one by the two tobacco leather couches in the living area, another nestled in front of a large bookcase and a wood-and-iron bar cart. There are several large windows in the living area, and a huge one to the far left of the open-concept living room, where I see an indoor pool that makes my eyes go wide.

It’s nestled in the corner, with white stone steps leading up to the water, overlooking a scenic view of the city. “This is ridiculous,” I manage, when I find my voice, and Rowan chuckles as he carries me to one of the couches.

“It is a bit, isn’t it? But it’s different from what I was used to back in Ireland. I thought, if I was going to be back in the States, I might as well enjoy something different, aye?” He sets me down, and I look up at the ceiling, seeing exposed beams in a warm shade of wood. This place, while every bit as luxurious as Chris’s—maybe even more so—has a warmth to it that instantly makes me feel more at home.

“Now let me look at you,taibhseach,” he says, sinking down next to me as he reaches for my face, and I pull away instinctively, remembering in a rush how insane this all is.

“No.” I scoot away from him on the couch, holding up my hands. “Don’t touch me.” Warning bells are going off in my head—we’re alone, in his apartment, and I’m feeling exceptionally fragile. Even now, in this situation, I can feel the magnetic pull of attraction between us, feel his warmth and scent and muscled body drawing me in, and I shake my head, putting as much space as I can manage between us. “This is insane, Rowan. Do you not understand that youkeepmeddling? You pursued me, even knowing I didn’t need or want a new patron. You showed up before my performance. You showed up at thehospital, and then you didn’t leave. You came to my boyfriend’s apartment unannounced, waltzed in, and then youknocked him out?—”

“When he hit you,” Rowan reminds me, his voice deadly quiet. “Once was bad enough, Genevieve, but who knows if he would have stopped there? That type of man—” He draws in a breath. “I saved you.”

“I don’t want to need saving!” I exclaim, and he shakes his head.

“Aye, maybe that’s true, but you seem to need it all the same, lass. What about him leaving you stranded at the hospital? What about him leaving you without a bit of help, no way to get upstairs, no way to?—”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do now.” I look at Rowan, despair filling my chest and making it hard to breathe. “I can’t go back there, not after?—”

“No, you can’t,” he agrees. “He’s a danger to you now, for certain. But he already was,milseán.” Rowan shakes his head, looking at me as if trying to get me to understand. “From everything I’ve seen of him, this was a cork waiting to pop. He was building up to this, lass, and even if I hadn’t come by?—”

“But you did.” I let out a slow breath. “You keepcomingby, and things keep happening?—”

“You should have left him already,” Rowan says, but there’s nothing accusatory in his voice. It’s gentle, almost soothing, and I close my eyes.

“I could go stay with my friend Dahlia, or Evelyn, but they’re going to want to know why?—”

“So tell them.” Rowan looks at me, confused, and I shake my head.

“Their husbands are Bratva. Evelyn’s husband is Dimitri Yashkov,pakhanof the Bratva here. Dahlia’s husband is his brother. They’d kill Chris if they knew what he did?—”

“I’d say he’d be deserving of it,” Rowan says tightly. “I’m all for you telling them, lass.”

“That’s insane!” I look up at him. “What Chris did was awful, but I don’t want himdead. I just want?—”

“What do you want, Genevieve?” Rowan’s voice is oddly calm, almost as if he’s considering something. When I look at him, his eyes are narrowed, focused in on me. “Tell me.”

“Right now, I just—” I swallow hard. “I never want to see Chris again.” My eyes well up with tears, and I fight to keep them back, but one drips from my lashes, sliding down my cheek. “I want to feel safe.”

Rowan takes a deep breath, and when I look up again, his emerald gaze is dark with conviction.

“I have a solution, if you’ll hear it.”

I shake my head, sure that I already know what he’s going to say. But a part of me is curious. “Fine.” I meet his eyes. “What is it?”

He smiles, ever so slightly. “Marry me.”

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