Shit.Someone’s here, and I’m sure it’s not Rory.
I have no clue who’s on the other side of that door, but I can already tell I don’t want to meet them.
Paintbrush frozen in my hand, I lurch back from the canvas I propped up in the windowsill and whirl around to face the door, heart banging around in my chest.
The click of a lock raises the hair on my arms, and then the door swings open. I was right. It’s definitely not Rory.
In walks a man so tall, he has to bow his head to pass under the frame.
I instinctively back up as he enters.
This man is broad and strong, his face weathered from years of violent crime. He’s intimidating, absolutely, but somehow…not terrifying. Not like Leo. Not yet, at least. He gives off the impression of someone who’s often impatient and displeased.
His slate gray eyes are hard but clear, and he smiles in a way that’s neither kind nor cruel. “I’m Shane.”
Oh, shit.TheShane Gallagher? As in…
Head of the Irish Kings?
Shane’s gaze drifts to the canvas in the window and then back to my face. “Rory said you were a painter.”
I nod in reply.
“Come.” This terribly powerful man holds out his hand. “Walk with me.”
I’m going to die.That’s clearly what comes next.The Kings have decided to send my corpse to Leo to teach him a lesson. It’s over. This is it.
Terrified to move but even more terrified to disobey, I set down my brush with a shaking, sweaty palm and follow Shane into the hall, mind spinning in helpless circles.
What is this don going to do to me?
My blood is cold as the Arctic, my knees weak and wobbly. I’m getting dizzy imagining every horrible scenario that might soon befall me.
Barely breathing, I use all the strength I possess to put one foot in front of the other.
In a strange, eerily peaceful silence, Shane guides me from my room to the grand staircase, where we descend. Once we’ve arrived on the ground floor, he leads me down a few short corridors until we approach a large set of double doors.
Shane swings them open, and they glide back soundlessly to reveal…ahugelibrary with expansive glass windows that overlook an enclosed garden.
Oh, wow. What am I doing in this amazing place? Surely they wouldn’t taint such a gorgeous space by torturing their victims here.
“Rory also said you enjoy books.” After the stretch of quiet, Shane’s deep, rumbling voice startles me.
Shane enters the library, and when my paralyzed legs don’t move to follow, he ushers me in. This man has said two real things to me, both of which revolve around what Rory told him.
What’s he going to say next?Rory tells me you also enjoy his cock.
Even the thought has me cringing. If Shane Gallagher said something like that to me, I think I’d expire from sheer mortification on the spot.
Tentative and cautious, I enter the library, heart slamming against my ribs. After one more glance at Shane, my eyes begin to wander. They lock on a large painting hanging in an alcove.
One of mine.
No. One of my mother’s.
I inch closer. I…remember this one.
Memories flood me: climbing trees in the garden while my mother used the outside of the De Luca estate as a reference for castles and palaces; sitting in her lap, holding her paintbrush, while she guided my hand through the strokes.
