Page 38 of His Forced Irish Mafia Bride

“You never actually explained what happened,” I said.

My voice was steady, but I heard the change in it immediately. Sean didn’t answer me. That alone told me I’d stepped closer to something real. I continued before I lost the nerve.

“The betrayal. And the debt. Whatever you and my father were tied to. None of it added up when I looked at those files.” I finally looked at him properly when I said it, and he didn’t interrupt. He didn’t shut it down.

That was what made my head turn more. For the first time, he was listening to me. There was another tense silence, then…

“It isn’t simple,” he said. “Nothing ever is.” That sentence carried the kind of weight that felt older than both of us.

I waited for him to add more. He didn’t. Instead, he watched me carefully, like he was deciding how far to go.

“If you wanted answers,” he said finally, “you could look.”

I blinked once. What? What did that mean? Was he giving me permission to snoop around?

Fuck! I’d expected control and restrictions, something that would keep me out. Instead, he’d opened the door.

But despite that, I had to be careful. This permission didn’t feel like permission the way people usually gave it. It felt like a warning that I would walk into anyway.

“You aren’t stopping me?” I asked quietly.

Sean’s expression didn’t change much. “No.”

One word, simple and final. But there was something underneath it I couldn’t ignore. And I realized, sitting there with the smell of food still in the air, that this was the first time Sean O’Connor hadn’t controlled where I went. He’d just decided he’d accept me trying to find out the truth.

***

I found Dilligan near the security office. He was standing over a tablet, reading something with the serious expression he always seemed to wear.

“Dilligan.”

He looked up immediately. “Mrs. O’Connor.”

I still wasn’t used to hearing that. “My friend is coming over later today,” I said. “Nora Walsh.”

His expression didn’t change. “That won’t be possible.”

I blinked. “What?”

“We don’t know who she is.”

I stared at him. “She’s my friend.”

“I understand that.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is security.” His voice stayed calm. “We have active threats. Anyone entering the penthouse has to be cleared first.”

I folded my arms. “She’s not a threat.”

“You don’t know that.” The answer came so quickly that it annoyed me.

“She’s been my friend for years.”

“Yes, but she could still be a threat. And I’ve never met her.”

I let out a sharp breath. “This is ridiculous.”