Page 152 of Brutal Vows

I recall how his eyes tracked her every movement and smile. “He does seem a little obsessed with her.”

Quinn pulls me against his chest, wraps his arms around me, and stares down into my eyes. “Aye,” he says gruffly. “The Irish take love very seriously.”

Don’t melt. You have a lot of important things to get to. If you melt, you won’t get to any of them.

I think he can tell I’m flustered by that comment, so he changes the subject. “Declan says he’ll have information for us within a few days.”

“About what?”

“Who came into the house after Lili.”

I furrow my brow in confusion. “How can Declan get that information?”

His smile is mysterious. “He’s got friends in low places.”

“Well, that’s good. Though I doubt Gianni will care at this point. He just told me he doesn’t have a daughter anymore.”

“Let’s stop talking about your idiotic brother now.”

“Deal. What should we talk about instead?”

He considers me in thoughtful silence for a moment, then swings me up into his arms and takes us back to the bed.

Stretching out beside me, he slides a heavy arm over my waist and puts his nose into my hair. With his eyes closed and his voice rough, he says, “Think about what you want. What you really want, not what you think needs to happen. Let’s talk about that.”

I lie there, my mind blank. “I’ve never had anyone ask me what I want before.”

“I’m asking.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Start with what a good day would look like. Your perfect day. Picture it.”

“Then what?”

“Then I’ll make it happen.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, take a deep breath, and try to talk around the frog in my throat. “Quinn, you don’t have to take care of me.”

“Someone has to do it. Might as well be your fake husband.”

I wrap my fingers around his hard biceps and shiver in delight. He makes me feel as if a red carpet has been unrolled under my feet, stretching out in front of me as far as I can see. And when I walk down it, I’ll be showered in rose petals from the choir of singing angels floating overhead.

“Okay… my perfect day.” I think for a while, trying on different scenarios. “It would start with breakfast in bed. That someone else made for me.”

Quinn makes a soft noise of encouragement.

“Then I’d get a massage. At home. From a very good-looking young man who was getting paid an enormous sum of money to pamper me.”

“You wouldn’t have to pay him anything. Men would line up in the street for a chance to get their hands on your naked body.”

“Shut up, please. This is my fantasy.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Where was I?”

“Naked on a massage bed with a handsome young man.”