I glance at the scar one more time, but there’s no way I can argue with that. “Okay, but I’ll hold you to that.”
He changes the subject. “You’re not leaving my room. I don’t give a fuck how disturbing that sounds. If you need something before bed, I’ll get it for you.”
Locked up with Devon for the night.
Since disturbing has a whole new meaning lately, I’ll take being locked up by the owner of The Manor at Winslet. And it looks like I’ll enjoy every minute of it.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
GASLIGHT IN THE NAME OF NATIONAL SECURITY
Devon
Hands down, firing my event coordinator is the best thing I’ve done since I bought this old estate. Who knew stepping into the role of bridal assistant would land the bride that never was in my bed.
I might have learned a lot about Harlow Madison over the last couple of days, but something I didn’t know until this morning is that she sleeps like the dead. I woke up before the sun like I always do. It’s a habit I can’t shake, no matter how long I’ve been away from my first career. As much as I hate it, that habit won’t die.
Any other day that I would have woken up next to Harlow, I would’ve laid there and stared at her since it seems to be my new favorite pastime. Every moment since my feet hit the floor, I’m pissed I’m not next to her. Having her for the first time was better than any fantasy.
To say that entering into a contract with a woman is not my norm is an understatement. A contract protects the future, means the signor actually gives two shits about the agreement, and finally, has a desire to control the outcome.
Contracts are for shit like bondage, consent, and...
Marriage.
Our agreement might be in spirit alone, but the only thingI wanted was to make sure it wasn’t a one-off. I have no idea what came over me or where it came from.
Who am I kidding? I know exactly where it came from. It was pure desperation coupled with the fact I knew once wouldn’t be enough.
After our first time last night, we crashed, and we did it naked. It was the best night’s sleep I’ve had in years.
Which is why I should be beside her in bed right now.
But someone associated with Victor Turner is on my property. It’s one of the few things in the world that could drag my arse away from the beauty in my bed.
“Did you catch the figurative worm, man? It’s early and you’re three hours behind me,” Ozzy says.
Ozzy Graves is a tech guru trained by the National Security Agency before he was fucked over by Uncle Sam. He can work his way into any system and enjoys playing on the dark web.
I’m not about to admit to my sister’s business associate that I didn’t catch a worm, but I did, in fact, catch a bride. I lean back in my office chair and swivel to look up at the dusty bookshelves cluttered with century old knickknacks. “Would you be able to rest if someone associated with Turner was sleeping under your roof?”
A low chuckle comes over the line. “Since I don’t own a castle, and only my family sleeps under my roof, I don’t have to worry about that and can focus on spying and breaking into private networks like a normal freak.”
“It’s a manor, not a castle. Americans don’t know the difference.”
“You can school me another time. I was about to call you. I’ve got a positive facial on your guy.”
Jittery energy shoots through me. “Who the hell is he?”
“Shocker, his name is Roman Malloy. Roman Christopher Malloy, to be exact.”
I pause before I bite through the phone. “Are you sure?”
“Are you...” It’s his turn to pause. “Questioning me?”
I drag a hand down my face. “Let me rephrase that. Who in the hell is Roman Malloy?”
“That’s better,” Ozzy deadpans. “And you’re welcome, by the way. I pushed this shit to the top of my very long to-do list. You Donnellys have a way of being demanding as fuck. I’m coaching a baseball team and T-ball team on top of my normal work schedule. My life right now is organizing distracted eight and four-year-olds, coordinating snack schedules, and creeping around the dark web. Trying to dig up shit on some boring-ass guy from Connecticut is not something I have time for. My wife and Crew keep me busy enough.”