Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
His temporary woman. I almost say that, but I don’t want to spoil the mood… which might be crazy because he’s the one giving me so many mixed signals. One second it’s ‘this can’t last’ and the next he’s being so romantic. My soul aches.
I take the ring box, open it. “A Claddagh ring,” I whisper, looking down at the jeweled heart in the silver band, a crown above it and two intricately carved hands framing it.
He smiles, touching the ring pendant hanging around my neck. “This one should actually fit you,” he says. “You’re going to wear it at the ball. It’s important I keep my cool.”
“How will this help keep your cool?” I ask.
“Do you know about the meanings behind the ring?”
“Sure,” I tell him. “If I wear it on my right hand with the heart facing out, that means I’m single. Right hand with the heart facing inward… I’m spoken for. Left hand facing out, I’m engaged, and facing in, I’m married.”
He nods. “At the ball, you’ll wear it on your right hand with the heart facing in. Everybody there will know that you’re with me, that we’re in a relationship.”
“As a show,” I say.
“Yes, as a show,” he growls. “I wish it could be different, but… But you need to listen to me on this.”
“What if I refuse to go?” I ask.
“Then I won’t go, either. My uncle will take it as a slight. He’ll argue I’m not respecting him as Don. The battle will begin.”
“Is the ring really that important?”
“It’s going to be hard enough to keep my cool at this damn thing,” he says huskily. “If I look over and see another man fawning over you, I’ll snap. You’ve seen what happens when I snap.”
I get a flash of the violence, the savagery he inflicted upon Shane.
“I don’t want to think about that.”
“That’s who I am,” he says. “Think about it anytime you’re pissed at me for saying we can’t do this forever.”
“You and your mixed signals…”
“Put the ring on,” he says.
“Is that an order from the mafia king?”
He grabs my arms and pulls me close to him, staring down with so much heat, I think he might lay me on the table and tear off my clothes. He looks like a man on the very edge of control, struggling not to lose it. “I’m doing this for you. I’m doing this because I know if I look over and see some guy chatting you up, I’m liable to put a bullet in him. I’m doing this because I am part of the mafia, even if I’ve never wanted to be. I’m doing this because there’s a demon in me and it’ll wake—again—if another man even imagines he has a chance with you.”
I put my hand on his chest, first meaning to push him away. But when I feel his heart hammering beneath my palm, I dig my nails into his firm chest through his shirt and pull myself in for another kiss.
It’s somehow hotter than the others, imbued with more meaning, with more intensity.
“You were my lucky charm that stopped the storm,” he whispers. “At the ball, you’ll be my lucky charm again. Here…” He takes the ring from me with surprising gentleness, then slips it onto my finger, turning it so it’s facing the right direction.
“I have nothing to wear at a ball,” I tell him. “Everyone there will be rich and have fancy outfits and I’ll look out of place.”
“I’ll take you shopping,” he says. “Anything you want, it’s yours. In the short time we have together, let me treat you.”
“I wish you’d stop reminding me we’re on a clock.”
“I’m not reminding you. I’m reminding myself. Otherwise, I’ll let myself think of impossible, painful things.”
“Well, I get it,” I tell him. “You don’t have to keep reminding me. And I can’t go shopping. I need to keep the bakery running.”
“You’re open nights?”
“The stores will be closed,” I protest.
He gently takes my hands. “A stór, I’ll have the owners open them. Take you on a private shopping trip. It’s even better; I get you all to myself.”
Again, I get that split feeling, like there are two people warring inside me. One wants to tell him I don’t want some princess adventure. He can’t make me ignore how doomed this is with romance and things. But another part is… okay, sue me. Yep, I’m excited.
“Do you know the story of Niamh and Oisín in the Land of Youth?” I ask.
“No, but I’m sure my lucky charm will tell me…”
“Niamh begged Oisín not to leave, told him things would never be the same, but he was determined to see Ireland. He promised he would come home to her. But when he returned, three hundred years had passed. Nothing would ever be the same again. He would never see his love again. I’ve been reading Irish folklore, and lately, that one sticks out to me.”