Page 38 of Stolen Rival (The Stolen #1)

PATRICK

It’s been three days since I cut down Sorcha’s hopes of a future without me with a few well-chosen (or maybe ill-chosen) words and our paths haven’t crossed once. She’s avoiding me and I don’t blame her. Some days, I’d like to escape me, too.

Before I met her, I can’t remember a single occasion where I questioned myself. I had supreme confidence in every single decision. I didn’t care who I hurt or what was said about me behind my back. And I still don’t… apart from when she is my unfortunate victim.

Damn woman has got her talons underneath my skin, and I don’t fucking like it.

This is all Dylan’s fault. Bloody man put ideas in my head that don’t belong there.

Good thing he’s dead already. I might’ve sped up the process if he wasn’t.

Family life worked for him, but it won’t work for me.

No matter what he says, I think it made him a moderate, and that soft underbelly was what emboldened Andrew to step way beyond the boundaries of his role .

Not any longer.

I’ve got my eye on that fucker. And tonight is another step toward putting him squarely in his place.

It damn near takes an entire room-by-room search of the house before I find Sorcha curled up on a chair in the formal drawing room that’s never used, her nose in a book. My father was partial to holding his business meetings in here, but I’ve always found it dingy and lacking in natural sunlight.

“We’re out for dinner this evening. Be ready in an hour.”

Sorcha closes the book with a snap, then scratches the space between her eyebrows. “I don’t feel like going out.”

“Are you sick?”

Slowly, her gaze lifts to mine. “Of you, yes.”

Since I deserve that, I’ll let this one go. “It would be… helpful if you accompanied me.”

“Why?”

Yep. She’s going to make me work for it. If the roles were reversed, I’d do the same. Maybe we aren’t that different after all.

“It’s time we were seen out in social circles. Otherwise people might think you don’t exist.”

“Or they may think you’ve murdered me.”

One corner of my mouth tilts up. “That, too.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“A decent meal at a Michelin-starred restaurant and a chance to leave this house.”

“Hmm.” She taps her bottom lip. My eyes linger there, the image of those rosy lips wrapped around my cock springing into my mind and playing on a constant loop.

Sorcha’s mouth is a work of art. The way her top lip is fuller than the bottom one, giving her an almost pouty expression, even when she isn’t trying.

I harden instantly. Whatever our problems may be, sexual attraction isn’t one of them.

“Those two definitely go into the positive column. Unfortunately, having to spend the evening with you is in the negative column.”

“Two to one.” I still have no idea why I am entertaining her rebelliousness, but I can’t seem to help myself. It’s a hobby I never knew I needed, and now that I’ve had a taste of it, I refuse to give it up.

“Yes, but if you were a Scrabble tile, you’d be worth ten points while dinner and a trip out are a two and a three.”

I break out a full-on smile. “Scrabble? You’re comparing me to Scrabble?”

She hitches a shoulder. “It’s as good an analogy as any.”

Crossing the room, I pluck the book out of her hands and set it on the table, then extend my hand. Ten seconds pass before she heaves a sigh and joins her palm with mine. I wrap my fingers around hers and pull her to her feet.

“Come to dinner. I’ve invited Rosanna and Garrett, and I think Cillian and Molly are going to try to make it if they can get a babysitter. Liam and Darragh are coming, too, and Andrew, so you’ll know most of the people going.”

“As your brothers are only marginally more palatable than you, they are not selling points.”

God, she’s fierce. And I am fucking here for it.

“But Rosanna is.” I tilt my head to one side. “Right? And it’s a good chance to see Molly again.”

Her nostrils flare as she huffs. “Fine. I will come to dinner. But for the record, the way you spoke to me after…” Her free hand twirls in the air. “What we did. It was cruel and unnecessary. ”

“After you rubbed yourself to a climax on me, then gave me the best blow job I’ve had in years, you mean?”

Heat rushes to her face, her innocence with sex apparent. Lowering her eyes, she nods. “Yes, that.”

I clip her underneath the chin until she looks at me. “I wasn’t happy with what I overheard you say to Cathal.”

“It didn’t mean what you thought it meant. I just meant that I…” She shakes her head. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter.”

“Speak your mind, Sorcha. Nothing I’ve said or done so far has stopped you.”

“My father put Cathal in that home when he was a few days old. Then, I was far too young to understand. As I got older, I never agreed with it, but he refused to change his mind. Da said his enemies would use Cathal against him.”

“He was probably right.”

“Maybe. But Da couldn’t stand Cathal. The enemies thing was just an excuse. He blamed him for Mammy dying, but to me, he’s family . Da should have loved him, found a way to keep him safe and with us, not hide him away and pretend he never existed.”

Christ. I didn’t know that was the reason Cathal is in a care facility. How could a man treat his own child like that? I never could. I’m a sadistic man in many ways, but on this, Sorcha and I are on the same page. Family is family.

“So, what you meant was that you hope one day to have him with you instead of being in the home?”

“Yes, that’s it exactly.”

Regret crawls in, unwelcome and insistent. I never even gave her a chance to explain. “You should have told me.”

“I would have but you’d already made up your mind on what you thought you heard, and you doled out your chosen punishment.”

I brush my thumb over her lips, then slowly sweep it down her neck until it’s directly over her thrumming pulse. “Did it feel like punishment when you were grinding on my dick?”

Her throat bobs as she swallows. “No.”

“Or when I came in your mouth?”

“No. That felt like… power.”

I smirk. She’s not wrong. A man will agree to anything when a woman is sucking his dick.

Which is why it’s a dangerous activity, and the entire time, I had to fight to maintain control.

Doesn’t mean I don’t look forward to the next time, though.

Just that I need to keep my wits about me where Sorcha is concerned.

She doesn’t ask for permission. She takes, and that’s dangerous.

“Next time there is a misunderstanding between us, tell me. I’m not an ogre.”

The incredulous reaction that sweeps across her face draws a laugh from me. It hasn’t escaped my notice that I laugh more with her than I have done in years. “Okay, I can be an ogre, but I still want you to tell me. I’m not a mind reader, and I’m as capable of jumping to conclusions as anyone.”

“Like a gold medal long jumper at the Olympics, it seems. But okay, I’ll make a concerted effort to communicate with you, as long as you are less…” She pauses like she’s trying to figure out the right word before waving her hand in front of my face. “ You about it.”

My lips tip up, a hint of a smile. “I’ll do my best. Now get ready and be downstairs in forty-five minutes.”

“You know, the odd please and thank you wouldn’t kill you. Good manners don’t cost anything, Patrick. Especially with your wife. Go on, say please. I won’t even tell anyone or put it on the internet.”

She’s pushing her luck. I fucking love it. “Please. ”

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Without waiting for an answer, she walks away. After two steps, she stops and pivots. “Watch Andrew, Patrick. There’s something about him that… I don’t trust.”

Considering I haven’t conveyed my thoughts to her about Andrew, the fact she’s picked up on his untrustworthy status tells me she has instincts. Good ones. And her telling me how she feels about him is another step in the right direction.

Maybe Dylan was right about involving Sorcha a little more in the business. This is another sign that she’s observant, and that’s a handy trait to have in our circles.

“What makes you say that?”

“My gut. After you… dismissed me the other day, I stormed off to the orchard. Andrew was there having a smoke. He gave me the creeps.”

I wondered if she’d mention their chat that Darragh informed me of. He saw them from his bedroom window and watched to make sure she was all right. But he might’ve missed something, depending on how good a view he had. A weight settles on my chest. “Did he touch you?” My voice is rough as gravel.

“No.”

He gets to live another day then.

“He’s angry, Patrick. Possibly grieving too. He worked for Dylan for a long time. And people who are angry and grieving don’t always think through their actions.” She purses her lips. “Ask me how I know.”

Another dose of regret settles in my bones.

Not for taking action against the McCarthys, but for the pain and suffering I caused a young woman who didn’t deserve it.

Words that sound like apologies bubble to the surface, but I can’t bring myself to say them.

I’m not proud of that. I’ve closed myself off for so long that I have no idea how to open up, not even a sliver.

“You leave Andrew to me. I have it under control.”

“Control, your favorite thing.” She shrugs. “It’s your call.”

Yet another thing she’s noticed, my inherent need for control. I’ve never come across someone as young as her who is that astute. It’s… intoxicating.

It’s dangerous. To me, that is.

Pivoting, she begins to walk away again.

“Sorcha?”

She stops then glances over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Thank you for telling me.”

She smiles and something shifts in my chest. “You’re welcome. See? Good manners aren’t all that hard after all. And you did that one all by yourself.”

By the time I shower and dress for dinner and make my way downstairs, Sorcha is already waiting.

I sweep my gaze over her and nod my approval.

She picked up on the standard of the restaurant we are visiting this evening without me explicitly pointing it out, and her attire is perfect.

The ankle-length, fitted navy blue dress shows the right amount of cleavage and nips in beautifully at the waist, then flares over her generous hips.

She’s paired it with a strappy sandal, and her red hair lies in loose waves over her shoulders.

“Blue suits you, and I like what you’ve done with your hair.”

It shows how starved she must be for compliments when she beams so broadly. I’m surprised her face doesn’t split in two. God, I’m such a bastard.

“Thank you, Patrick. I’m glad you like it.”

I’d like it even better with the dress on the floor and her hair wrapped around my fist. Unfortunately, my brothers and Andrew choose that moment to appear and ruin my fantasy.

“Ready?” Liam asks.

“Yes.” I press my hand to Sorcha’s lower back as we leave the house. “You’re riding with Liam and Darragh.”

“Why?”

Liam arches a brow at Sorcha questioning me, and there’s an audible intake of breath from Andrew.

Darragh merely grins. I lean down, putting my mouth next to her ear and lowering my voice enough so no one else can hear.

“Because I’m traveling with Andrew, and I don’t want you in the car with him after what you told me earlier. Your comfort is paramount.”

Her eyes soften, her hand flickering to her throat. “Thank you for thinking of me.” She hesitates, then touches my arm. “Be careful.”

The idea of Andrew being able to hurt me in any way is comical, but her concern is touching enough that I don’t laugh. It’s another sign that we might have just taken a step forward to a more amenable phase of our relationship. “I will.”

Releasing her, I wait for Liam to lead her far enough away before I grip Andrew’s upper arm, whip out a Sig from my holster, and jam the barrel underneath his chin. Sorcha’s shocked gasp reaches me, but I don’t react, don’t acknowledge her at all.

“What the fuck, Patrick?” Andrew blurts.

“Let me make one thing clear.” I jam the barrel even harder until it forces his head back, exposing his throat. “If you ever talk to my wife again without either me or one of my brothers in attendance, I will blow your pathetic fucking brains all over the wall. Do. You. Feel. Me?”

His pupils dilate, blocking out the muddy brown of his eyes, and his lids flare wide. “Yes.”

“Good. Wake up to your new reality, Andrew. This is your life, and if you want to keep breathing, you will stay the fuck away from what’s mine. I don’t want you poisoning her mind with your petty bitterness. This is your first and last warning. My wife is off-limits. Got it?”

“I said yes. I got it, okay. I fucking got it.”

“You’d better, because I am not a forgiving man. I am a vengeful bastard, and I will peel the fucking skin from your body piece by piece if you step out of line again.”

I draw back the gun, and his head falls forward. Jerking my chin at the open car door, I bark, “Get in.”

He slides inside and out of view. I put my gun away and glance over at Sorcha. Her eyes are wide, but the look in them isn’t horror or repulsion; it’s respect and maybe a hint of affection. I smile at her, then climb into the car.

“I hope you’re hungry,” I say as though the last sixty seconds hadn’t taken place. “I hear the chef makes a mean fillet steak.” I hit Andrew with a malevolent smirk and smooth my tie. “Nice and bloody, just how I like it.”