Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
He squeezes me tighter. “It’s a long story. You need food in your system.”
I nod against his chest, maybe glad to put it off a little longer. Whatever the story is, it obviously doesn’t have a happy ending.
I— I—
I betray him at the end.
Maybe I don’t want to hear it after all. Maybe I can beg him to only tell me the beginning, where we were happy like in the pictures. Like turning off a movie before the sad part. I made Moira do that with The Notebook.
I just want to hear the good part. The part where he looked at me like he loved me.
I wanted to be whole but I’m obviously broken beyond repair. I’ll want this instead. I can be whole with him if he’ll just look at me like that again.
If he’s holding me like this, does it mean he’s forgiven me? We can just fast-forward to this part where we’re happy again. All I want is to be happy in the arms of someone who cares about me. I don’t care if that’s childish. I don’t care about fucking anything but being here and safe and with him.
But too soon, Domhnall sits up and lets me go.
I reach for him but he’s by the door. I sit up, too, and look down at myself. I’m wearing one of Domhnall’s oversized undershirts and his boxers. I wrap my arms around myself.
Maybe I shouldn’t be giving into this new obsession for Domhn so easily. But the pictures gave me permission. I loved him before, so it’s okay to give into this deep feeling now. I’m broken inside, but there’s this too, and this is good. Maybe the only good thing inside me.
And Donny wasn’t even pulling away really, because he’s hurrying back around the bed with a pair of socks. He lifts each of my feet, kissing the sole of my foot and then fitting the sock on, one foot at a time.
“Your feet are cold.” He frowns at himself. “I shouldn’t have allowed your feet to get so cold.”
He’s literally kissing my feet now.
I can only blink down at him, stunned. My insides flood with warmth.
Is this what… happiness feels like?
He lifts up and takes my hand to draw me from the bed to follow him.
“Breakfast now. Did you sleep well?” he demands, half Donny, and half Sir.
“Um,” I blink again. “I barely remember my head hitting the pillow. Then I woke up just now. So, um, good.”
“Good, good,” he murmurs, hand rubbing my back as we walk to the elevator. He pushes the down button, and I tense, eyes flicking up to him.
Is this a trick? Is he taking me back to the basement now?
I hesitate when the doors open. I should run away from him. I’m an idiot to step back into this elevator with him again. But like a sheep mesmerized by the shepherd’s touch at the small of my back, I just step right in.
He doesn’t hit the basement floor, though, he hits G. I think that means ground floor? I still barely breathe for the short ride down.
My breath expels in relief and confusion when he urges me forward by the light touch at my back when the doors open at the ground floor.
Daylight floods in through windows as he leads me through his maze-like mansion, not saying a word. I look up at his gorgeous, god-like face several times, and he meets my gaze with an easy, unconcerned smile.
Meanwhile, I feel like a nervous wreck.
What is seriously going on?
“What is this?” I ask, nerves finally giving out. “Why aren’t you taking me back to the dungeon?”
The Sir facade drops completely and he’s the Donny from the pictures, features soft as they crumple with remorse. “Fuck. Mads—Brooke, I mean. I’m so feckin’ sorry, love,” he says, brogue heavy. “I’ve been an evil gobshite an’ I know t’ere’s no way of makin’ it up to ya. I’m done with it. I’ve been up all night. It kills me but I’ve got ta let ya go. It’s t’e right t’ing. After getting some food in ya, I’m taking ya back to Moira’s.”
“What?” My hand immediately shoots out to grab onto his forearm. “No,” I say sharply, before I even realize what I’m doing. “I can’t— We can’t—”
He stands up taller, his Sir persona returning. “I’ll answer any question you have, of course, but I’m not sure it will be much help as to your actual identity. When I knew you, your name was Madison Harper. You hadn’t been in Dublin long. You spent your younger years in America but I think your father took you overseas with him when—”
He swallows and breathes out heavily, eyes averting. “—When you were quite young. I never knew anything about your mother.”
He turns away and I follow him as he heads into a huge kitchen.