Page 95 of Captive Audience
For the first time, I didn’t just see Rook as the man who’d taken my freedom. I saw the boy who’d buried his whole family and didn’t know how to grieve without burning the world down.
“That doesn’t justify what he’s done to you,” Orla added. “But if I’m being honest, this is the gentlest I’ve seen him handle anything. No threats. No casualties.”
I flashed her a fake smile. “Good to know he doesn’t screw everyone he manipulates.”
Orla blinked. “You’re sleeping with him?”
Crap. I assumed Rook had told her about our hookup.
“It was just one night,” I blurted. “And it happened before I knew who he was and what he planned to do with me.”
She tapped a finger against her lips. “Interesting.”
“How so?”
“Because I’m almost certain Rook hasn’t touched anotherwoman since Niall passed. Plenty have tried to get his attention, but he’s shown no interest. Until you.”
I tried not to dissect that information, but if my one-night stand with Rook wasn’t just meaningless sex for him, what did that mean?
Orla glanced at her diamond-encrusted watch. “We should get going.”
“Where?”
“Shopping. Didn’t Rook tell you? He asked me to help you find a dress for the grand opening of Torin’s new hotel.”
“Wait. The Lynch Ambassador?”
“Aye. It’ll be a formal evening event at the rooftop bar.”
Where I’d have to act the dutiful Mob wife and pretend Rook and I were in love? I’d rather stay home and press thumbtacks into my eyeballs.
“I think I’ll skip the party.” I gestured to my laptop. “Lots of work to do.”
Orla made a tight-lipped smile. “Your attendance isn’t optional. Torin would like to meet you.”
My stomach dipped. The head of the Philly Irish Mob wanted to meet me? If I hadn’t been anxious about attending before, I was now. “Wonderful,” I muttered.
“I just have one question,” Orla said, mischief lighting her expression. “What’s the credit limit on the card Rook gave you?”
I grabbed my purse. “Only one way to find out.”
Because if I was going to be dragged to a Mob gala, I might as well look good.
And what kind of Mob wife would I be if I didn’t give that black Amex a workout?
38
ROOK
After training and a few rounds of sparring at the gym, I arrived home to the sounds of feminine laughter and Finn’s deep amused rumble.
I dropped my training bag near the kitchen and followed the noise to the terrace, where Finn, Orla, and Asha sat around the glowing fire bowl. Two wine bottles rested on the table. One empty, the other on its last legs.
The girls’ wineglasses sloshed as they cackled. Finn spotted me first and attempted to rein in his laughter, but when the women noticed me, they burst into another fit of giggles. Orla wiped tears from her eyes. Asha clutched her stomach like she’d laughed herself sore.
Why did I get the feeling I was going to regret letting those two lasses spend time together?
“Hey, Boss,” Finn said between wheezes. “What’s the craic?”
