Page 43 of A Ruthless Arrangement
I try to swallow the knot that’s suddenly formed in my throat.Yet again, I hope he wants honesty. Because it’s honesty that he’s going to get.“Yes.”
“And how can I earn your trust enough to hear all the layers of thoughts you’re working through?” He drops his voice to a husky whisper, his finger still lightly tracing up and down my upper arm, from the base of my shoulder to my elbow. If I was overstimulated, his touch would be a bother. But in this moment, it’s a welcome distraction and comfort.
The question catches me off guard. I’ve never thought about it before, simply because no one’s ever wanted to hear my thoughts, not really. And honestly, why would they? I wishIdidn’t have to know all the thoughts that I think. It’s a pain, really.
“Trust is a complicated thing,” I say quietly, although not even close to the husky tone he was using. “I really don’t know, honestly.”
I manage a glance at him, only to see him smirking. “Honesty is all that I’m really asking for. I’m glad you could share something with me, since you hold so much in.” He leans in closer, his voice getting husky again as his hot breath hits my ear. “I want to know you, leannán. I want to bathe in your thoughts until I’m so intimately familiar with your mind that I can orchestrate our lives by it.”
His words feel both poetic and profound, but I can’t help but be a little suspicious of them. “And why do you want that?”
He tilts his head at me, something I notice he does when I say something that’s confusing or that he doesn’t expect. Something that misses the social cue. It’s a mannerism I’m coming to resent, even just a little, because it means I missed the mark.Again.“Why do you think, my leannán?”
As pretty as the Irish word is, knowing that it meansmy dearsomehow feels condescending in this context. It feels like him calling melittle girlor something like that.
I sigh. “I don’t know, otherwise I wouldn’t have asked. Do you want to understand my mind so that you can use it to your advantage? To manipulate me to behave how you want?”
He arches a brow. “You really don’t trust me, do you?”
A scoff slips past my lips before I can stop it. I take a moment to temper my reaction. “In all due respect, whyshouldI trust you? You want to see the world through my eyes? Start by putting yourself in my shoes.”
His eyes widen, and I know I’ve either hit the mark I was aiming for or he’s offended. Or maybe both. While I usually avoid hurting people’s feelings, sometimes it happens when I’m trying to tell the truth. I hate having to choose between sparing someone’s feelings or being fully honest.
He looks thoughtful for a moment and stops walking. It makes my heart race with anxiety, before I realize we’re in front of the bookstore, and that’s why he stopped. He opens the door for me, his eyes searching mine for a brief moment before I tear my gaze away to step inside.
The smell of wood and books immediately melts my anxiety away. It unravels the heavy knot in my shoulders that I hadn’t even realized was there.
The space is quiet and gorgeous. The front gallery we just stepped into has tall ceilings, probably three stories high, with intricate dark wood panels lining it. There’s a cast iron chandelier that’s almost medieval, and large, arched windowsletting in light on one side of the room. It’s a study hall, with rows and rows of tables lining the space, each with old-fashioned lamps on them. Quite a few are filled with people studying or working on their laptops.
I can see the next room through the glass doors. It’s just as tall as this room, but much wider, and filled with shelves of books. I can’t help but hurry in that direction.
I can hear the footsteps of the men behind me following me, their fancy leather shoes making a different sound on the tile floors than my converses. Jack and Liam are saying something to Alasdair, but I don’t know what since they’re quiet. Frankly, I don’t care. I just want to lose myself in the world of books for a bit and put all my worries about arranged marriages, mafia violence, social chess, and loud noises out of my mind for as long as I can.
I just hope the men following me around will let me have some semblance of peace, even for half an hour.
20
Kerry
If I was captivated before, then I’m obsessed now. My Amy is a puzzle that my brain’s enthralled with and my soul has locked onto. She’s quiet and reserved, but she stood up to me. She says she doesn’t need my help, even though many women would fall over themselves for the chance at being spoiled like I’m offering.
She asked to go to a bookstore.It greatly amuses me. Of all the places she could’ve chosen, she wants to go to a historical bookstore. From its website, it looks to be equal parts museum, study hall, and actual bookshop. I would’ve spent thousands of dollars if she asked me to take her to the spa, doled out one hundred grand on diamonds without blinking an eye, whatever she wanted, I would’ve gladly been her genie to make her wishes come true. But she didn’t want that, she wanted a bookstore, which boasted of afreemuseum and cheap study passes to work there.
She also told me she doesn’t trust me, and exactlywhyshe doesn’t. She has a point. I’ve been doing a lousy job of putting myself in her shoes.Iknow she’s the exception to my anger and violence, butshedoesn’t know that. Has she been waiting all thistime for me to threaten my wrath unless she adheres to a list of demands? No wonder she’s so skittish and careful around me.
As we step into the building, I admit, it’s beautiful. It reminds me of a lot of the historic buildings in Ireland. Amy is going to love visiting them. I make a mental note of a few that I think will particularly interest her, already planning our outings there once we get to Ireland.
Liam steps next to me as Amy excitedly walks ahead of us to go to the bookshop. “We’ve got a hound on our tails.” I know the lingo he’s using at once.Someone’s following us.
My gaze sharpens as I turn my face towards Liam. “What kind of hound?”
“One of Lorenzo’s men,” Liam whispers.
“Ah, feckin’ hell,” I curse, gritting my teeth. “What the hell does he want now?”
Jack chimes in from just behind us as we follow after Amy, entering the bookstore. “My guess? He knows the possibilities the dock may open up. Not just for us, but all of The Nameless.”
I run a hand through my hair. Jack is right. The docks are going to greatly benefit me, and thus it’ll benefit the organization I’m a part of.
