Page 29 of A Trap So Flawless

It looks like a nice museum. I wonder if I’ll get the chance to go inside…

Yeah. Like I’m some happy-go-lucky tourist who gets to actually decide her itinerary.

I didn’t even decide the destination of my flight.

And I don’t have a clue where we’re going now, either. I hope it’s not much further. I don’t think my legs will hold out, no matter how much my pride might beg them to. I was already sore and exhausted. Getting finger-fucked like that has left my strength in tatters.

I can’t believe he did that.

No, I can believe he did that.

I can’t believe I let him.

All those people on the green. Everyone who might have noticed…

“We’re here.”

Darragh unlocks a bright red door. He lets it swing inwards, then stops it on its rebound with a big hand, holding it open and waiting for me to enter.

I have some cash left. I could book a hotel room. But that would only last for a night or two.

And I’m so exhausted. I just want to collapse into a bed somewhere, and somewhere soon.

Even if it’s his bed?

My stomach tightens at the question. Darragh is watching me with a keen predator’s stare. But there’s something else in his gaze. A searching quality that while it doesn’t exactly make him look vulnerable – because could he ever be? – it does make him look less certain.

He’s waiting to see what I do.

If I run, he’ll grab me, chase me, hunt me down. I’ll lose even more of my own power in the process.

I hold my head high and stride through the open doorway.

“Is this your place?” I ask, surprised by the interior design choices. It’s an absolute delight in here. Cottagey without being kitschy. Creamy floral wallpaper and glossy dark hardwood floors greet us in a cozy sitting room ahead. Beyond, and up a few steps on a higher half-level, is a clean, bright kitchen with a door that leads into a lush yard with a garden.

“I’m renting it for now,” Darragh answers. The door closes behind him. I hear him turn the lock, and then the rattle of a chain as he does up the one at the top.

“I thought you’d be staying…”

“At my grandda’s?” He double checks the locks as I take off my shoes. My God, does it ever feel good to remove them. Between my mad dash to the airport, the flight, coming here… It must have been at least eight hours. I can’t wait to shower it all off of me.

“His nearest property is a townhouse on this very street,” Darragh goes on. “I’ve been spending some time there. But once Tommy got you on that plane, I made alternate arrangements for us.”

Us.

I shove away the oddly squeezing sort of comfort that word imparts, focusing instead on anger.

“Tommy. Is that who got to that booking agent lady at the airport? She was all good to go to book me in on the flight to London, then boom, new boarding pass, new gate.”

I still cannot believe I got on that plane without even realizing. I’ll have to blame it on the trauma and the stress, because I’m too ashamed to confront the fact I’d actually do something that stupid.

“Yeah. Tommy was my man in Montréal this week.” His head tilts sardonically. “I’m a little offended that, in your haste to leave the country, you didn’t choose Dublin as your destination.”

“I might have,” I shoot back instantly, “if you weren’t here.”

It’s the only mode of protection I have. This shield of rage. These barbed remarks. I stare him down, expecting anger in return, but all he does is smirk.

“I figured as much.” The smirk fades. His gaze coasts along my face. “But still. If you want to go to London, pet, I’ll take you.”

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