Page 40 of Savage Hearts

In my head, I’ve created an entire ten-season Netflix saga ofwhat all the Irish bodyguards have been saying about me behind my back since Sloane and Declan left.

It’s ugly. Even if only 2 percent of it is true, I can’t face them ever again.

I’m not anxious by nature, but I am easily mortified. Even a minor mistake makes me want to die of shame if it’s committed in public.

“Please?” I say, trying to appear winsome and irresistible. “I have to get out of this place. It’s too quiet. I’m going nuts. I need some noise and chattering people around me so I can concentrate.”

Spider gazes at me sternly. “Orders are you stay here, lass.”

“Orders. Right.” I pause to purse my lips and examine his steely exterior for cracks.

He says emphatically, “No.”

“What? You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“Whatever it was, it involves me doing something I’m not supposed to do at your request.”

“I’d never ask you to do something that would get you in trouble.”

When he only stands there, staring down his nose at me with his arms folded over his chest, I tell the truth.

“Okay, I probably would, but if you did get in trouble, I promise I’d feel bad about it. How about if we just go for a drive around the block with the radio on? I’m sure we’re allowed to do that.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re so much like your sister.”

“Say that again, and I’ll give you a smack on that big skull of yours.”

He pretends to be offended. “My skull isn’t big!”

I laugh at that. “Yes, it is. It’s as enormous as the rest of you.”

He stares at me, slowly lifting his brows.

My face decides it’s time to turn a nice bright shade of tomato red. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No? So the rest of me is small?”

He’s teasing me, the jerk. Time to change the subject.

“How about the library? I’m sure Declan would agree I’d be safe at a library, right?”

“We’re not going anywhere.”

“Fine. If you won’t help me, I’ll run away. I’m sure that won’t get you into any trouble.”

I don’t really mean it. I’m just being dramatic because I’m not getting my way. I turn around and flounce off with the plate of chicken wings I found in the fridge.

Ten minutes later, Spider knocks on my bedroom door.

“Yes?”

He sticks his head through. “All right, lass. Let’s go.”

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, I perk up. “Really?”

“Aye, really.”

I munch on a wing for a minute, debating, then shake my head. “That’s sweet, but I was only joking about running away. And I really don’t want to get you in trouble.”