Page 30 of Vengeful Devotion
A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth, but he resists letting it fully come to life. "I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
My mouth falls open, the poor organ in my head scrambling to process. The big bad boss of the McBride family wants to know if I’m okay? There’s no way this is reality.
“What?” he asks.
I close my mouth, shaking my head. “Nothing. That was just…” I trail off.
“Just what?”
“Unexpected. It was unexpected.”
“Really? I don’t think it’s abnormal for me to care for your well-being.”
He leans closer. My gut sets off with butterflies. I try to rein myself in. After all, Declan has all but said that he’s not interested in me. But the question is just too big not to ask. “Why?”
“My mother would scalp me if something happened to you on my watch.”
My heart seizes in my chest. The words wrapping around it like a chain dragging it back to the depths of a lonely abyss. My head spins like I’m on the world’s worst emotional roller coaster. I feel like a child right now. There’s something I want so badly dangling in front of me. But it’s always just out of reach. I know it’s for the best, but fucking hell. The torment of wanting something you can’t have is crippling. I can feel the tears bubbling behind my eyes, but I refuse to let Declan see me cry.
“O-oh. Yeah, of course.”
“She’s taken quite a liking to you,” Declan replies. “Seems my sisters have to.”
Everyone but him. The words he left unspoken are a glaring neon sign in my mind. They sting just as much as they would if he had said them. God, I’m being idiotic right now. What is happening to me? I’ve survived purgatory. Literal purgatory. Yet here I am ready to breakdown over a stranger. A sexy stranger. But a stranger, nonetheless. How did I become so weak? Gemma from Boston never cried. But Gemma in Vegas is a very different girl, and I’m not sure I like that.
CHAPTERTWELVE
Declan
I sigh,the cold air defining my breath. There’s not enough alcohol in the world to make nights like tonight bearable. I can’t tell if the feeling of doom is because I saw Gemma leave for the charity dinner with Danny or if it’s because something is coming. Knowing my karma, it’s both.
Pulling the door open, my eyes are drawn towards my girl like a magnet. She’s beautiful, shining like the only source of light in a dark space as she and my mother work the room. I walk towards her, like a moth in desperate need of warmth. Not hesitating, I place my hand on her back. The satin feel of her navy dress is soft beneath my calloused hand.
“You look beautiful,” I say, coming to stand next to her.
Gemma’s silky strands skate over my knuckles as she turns to look at me. Every time those beautiful cyan eyes meet mine, I lose a piece of my soul. It’s slowly becoming hers. At first, I was determined to fight this. To fight the feelings she gives me. But I’m learning that it’s impossible.
“Thank you,” she replies, stepping back just a little.
Fighting the urge to yank her right back, I let my hand fall from her back. My mother turns from the man she’s speaking to.
“Declan, so glad you made it.” She paints on a smile before grabbing my arm and murmuring, “You’re late.”
“But I’m here.”
“Declan, this is Cormac O’Brien. He has the—”
“Desert territory,” I interrupt, reaching out a hand to shake his. “It’s nice to meet you.”
There’s something in him that’s so familiar to me, but I can’t place it. Then again, his blonde hair and all-American look is quite common here.
Cormac laughs. “We’ve met before. Not that I would expect you to remember. It was eighteen years ago. Right after, my mother followed your family here.”
“Really?” my mother asks. “I don’t remember meeting you.”
“Like I said, it was a long time ago.”
“That’s true. How is your mother? She’s doing well?”
