Page 27 of Stolen Temptation (Irish Kings #3)

Rory

As soon as we’re through the door of Finn’s office, he turns the full force of his investigative powers on me. His cold, sharp gaze is a knife sinking into my flesh. He doesn’t bother sitting down, so I follow his lead.

I can already tell this is a conversation that best takes place standing up.

“ Rory .” A vein in his jaw twitches, like he’s pissed but holding his own chain so he doesn’t pounce. “Tell me everything about this I don’t already know.”

“There’s no more to tell.” Uneasiness adds iron to my spinal cord, prompting me to stand a little taller. “You know as much as I do.”

“Bullshit.” Finn backhands a mug on his desk, which tears through the air before shattering against the wall, white ceramic chunks and old brown coffee creating a stale-smelling mess all over the floor.

“Do you honestly believe that I can’t tell when you’re lying to me?

We grew up together. Or have you forgotten? ”

Irritation blazes in my chest.

Being accused of lying when I’m telling the truth pisses me off eleven times out of ten…though I suppose I am lying by omission.

Maybe the real reason for the anger boiling in my gut is how Finn’s acting like a nosy hypocrite right now.

Is he seriously accusing me of lying to him just because I haven’t been up-front about touching Kiara? It’s not his business. As a dutiful member of this family, I’ve told him everything work -related. Why does it matter if Kiara and I shared a few non-work-related orgasms?

Finn was in a similar predicament just a few months ago , with his now-fiancée. Not like any of us were up his ass about whether he and Riley had anything going on, even though they one-hundred-percent did.

No, for the most part, I kept my mouth shut when Finn was going through it with Riley.

I could tell some romance-related shit was happening, but I didn’t stick my nose into their business.

Finn can handle himself, the same way I can handle myself .

I was even the one he vented to when Cian went off the rails about Harper.

I have always been the damn voice of reason in this friend circle, but suddenly I’m the bad guy just for attempting to keep my professional and personal escapades separate?

Standing here grinding my teeth isn’t going to make this moment go away.

“I’ll report when I know more.” Gritting the words out, I struggle to keep my temper from wrenching out of my careful, controlled grip. Nothing good will come of the two of us losing it in a room this small.

“You fucked her, didn’t you?”

Rage slams against the inside of my ribs, bucking to get out and cut Finn for treating me like this. “No . ”

“You’ve been acting unprofessional ever since you and Darren went to that auction.” Finn folds his thick arms across his chest. “This is worse than sex, isn’t it? You’re falling for her.”

“Well, you would know.” I spit the words at him before I can stop myself.

Finn’s face goes blank, then his eyebrows lower into a scowl. “Say that again.”

“I guess you and Cian are the only ones allowed to fall for women you’re assigned to protect.” I’m squeezing my fists so tightly I hear a knuckle pop. “Right? That’s how it works. One set of rules for you and another a set of rules for?—”

“So, you have fallen for her.” The smug expression Finn sports makes it appear as if his scar is smirking at me.

Heat sears the back of my neck and pinches at my heart.

“ No ,” I snap. “Don’t be absurd.”

Whatever this is with Kiara isn’t love , but that’s beside the point. I’m pissed about the principle of the matter, which Finn would understand if he would just pay attention to what I’m saying instead of digging around like a damn dog in the dirt for nonexistent subtext.

“Happened to me,” Finn taunts, somehow with a straight face. Even though it’s a ridiculous thing to throw at me.

He plucks at a nerve somewhere inside me. A nerve I’d forgotten I had.

“Well, I’m not you, am I?” My lower back is gridlock-tight.

Are we going to discuss how he’s been acting like an asshole ever since this whole war started? I’m just as stressed as the next guy, but I’m not going around harassing my friends about their sex lives.

Finn resets his jaw, his dark eyes steady on mine. “Good thing, seeing as how your taste in women leaves something to be desired.”

The floodgates of my self-restraint burst. “Fuck you.”

Shock widens his eyes before his mouth sets into a grim line. “Watch it, Rory. Whether we like it or not, we’re not equals anymore.”

Whenever I reach a certain level of angry, I start smiling. Just like I am now.

“Don’t kid yourself. We were never equals.” My smile widens, but I don’t laugh. My gut only becomes more acidic. “The rules don’t apply to you, Finn. They never have. You can screw or love whoever you want, regardless of the mission.”

“ Don’t talk about what happened with Riley.”

“The same way you didn’t talk to us about it?”

“If you keep this up, I swear I will pummel the absolute sh?—”

“None of us hounded you when you two were fucking yourselves into an engagement.”

“That was different. Besides, this is no time to get weak over a woman?—”

“You’re a hypocrite! And so am I. Doing what we do never mattered before, but because it’s…” Her.

My own thought scares my mouth into snapping shut involuntarily. I’m so blindsided by it, I know I need to get the hell out of here and walk it off.

Before I really snap.

“I’m only going to say this once.” Finn disturbs the silence with his gruff, sure voice. “Don’t get involved with that girl downstairs. She’s not yours to keep.” His tone darkens. “If my father tells you to slit her throat and mail her back to Leo one piece at a time, you’ll damn well do it.”

Desperation lashes me at the thought of hurting her. I clamp my teeth together to avoid an escalation.

“These are war times.” Finn lowers himself into the leather office chair behind his sprawling desk. “Go against the wishes of this family, and you’ll pay the price, Rory. Whether you’re my friend or not.”

There’s nothing else to say, and I can’t stay in here another second, so I spin around and stalk out of Finn Gallagher’s office.

One more word out of his mouth and punches would have been thrown.

Ten minutes later, I’m in one of the Audis we keep parked in the garage, speeding down the estate driveway and out into the Manhattan streets. I can’t remember the last time I ate. I’m so starving that it’s only dialed my rage up to twenty, but I can’t stop moving. I can’t slow down.

I don’t know what will happen to me if I slow down. What I might do.

Finn’s face keeps flashing behind my eyes.

Car horns blare at me as I run a red light, barrel through a crowded intersection onto the next block, and yank the steering wheel into a turn. The first parking spot I see is mine. I dive into it, doing a dangerous parallel park job that prompts pedestrians on the sidewalk to jump back.

I barely notice.

I’m a screwup. After what happened with Alayna, I know that. Everyone is better at choosing a partner than me.

Finn is Exhibit A.

After his first wife died, he was the scariest, coldest, least romantic fuck on planet Earth…and then Riley entered the picture. But Finn can be trusted to fall madly in love, whereas I can’t.

That reminder sends guilt crawling through my stomach like a swarm of slimy worms.

Of course Finn hit a nerve when he told me not to fall for Kiara.

I slam my forehead against the top of the steering wheel.

My state of mind is unraveling fast. I wish I had something safe I could think about. All my thoughts lead to Kiara or Finn, and thinking about them keeps bringing me back to my ex.

Her mossy green eyes and glossy, toffee-brown hair.

That laugh I hear in my most cruel and depressing dreams.

The curve of her bare shoulders in summertime…the same one I spot on unsuspecting strangers every June through September.

It happened so long ago, I don’t know why it still affects me like this.

The ripples of tragedy keep moving, I guess…

I met her at my favorite coffee shop. She was just a regular person, or at least that’s what I believed at the time. A bright, funny, regular person who loved hazelnut lattes.

I showed up on my usual morning coffee run. She bumped into me, spilling her drink all over my shirt. When I glanced up, the harsh words died on my tongue. She was stunning in jeans that accentuated her sleek legs and a red top that dipped low enough to reveal her ample cleavage.

She apologized profusely and introduced herself.

I shared my name and told her not to worry about my shirt, but she insisted on dabbing at the wet mess with napkins.

A short time later, she conceded defeat and peered up at me through her lashes, biting her full lower lip. Her next words imprinted in my memory.

Do you want to come to my place to change? We can kill time while I wash your shirt.

Maybe her willingness to invite a perfect stranger into her apartment should have been a red flag. If so, I missed it. Then again, that was far from the first or last time a woman propositioned me shortly after we met.

While my shirt was in the washer, we found a way to keep busy…in her bedroom. By the time I left, I was already infatuated. She convinced me she was too.

From that point on, we were inseparable for almost a year. I hate to admit it, because I’m the idiot in this equation, but I really believed she was the one.

Us dating is going to end with two rings and an aisle , is what I used to think to myself. I was sure of it. Sure of her .

Even though my friends had reservations.

Finn expressed concern over the way we hooked up.

Darren worried about how quickly we became attached at the hip.

Cian, our resident fuckboy, never said much besides a suggestion to keep my options open.

They all encouraged me to slow down and take my time getting to know her, but did I listen?

Hell no. I barreled full-speed ahead. When Alayna lost her job and her landlord refused to renew her lease, I moved her into the estate with me after only three months, against everyone’s advice.

In the end, they were right, and I was wrong. When I learned the truth, I felt like the biggest fool on the planet, but the damage was already done.

Anger and shame hung over me like a fog afterward, clouding my world for years. Even now, if I wander too far into my memories of her, the truth freezes me to ice and stone.

I fell for her lies, but I’m less trusting now. Once the dust settled, I vowed to never let a woman fool me again.

Bodies pass me. My head snaps up. The hell?

When did I get out of my car? I glance around. Somehow, I’m standing on a crowded street, though I don’t remember deciding to go for this walk. Am I really so stressed that I spaced out again?

That hasn’t happened to me in years.

Not since…

When my eyes fall on the building in front of me, all my misery comes full circle.

Of course I walked here on autopilot.

Hudson Home for Nursing and Rehabilitation.

This is what’s been tearing my life apart since everything that happened with Alayna. My mother’s early-onset dementia.

When the doctors diagnosed her with Alzheimer’s, helplessness devoured me like a vulture eating a carcass.

No amount of money or murder can fix dementia.

There’s no such thing as getting used to my mom’s illness. There’s no such thing as accepting it and moving on. She forgets me a little more every day, and there’s nothing I can do.

There’s only the silent, excruciating struggle.

I hate myself for resenting the nurses and doctors. But I can’t help myself.

They can do something I can’t. No matter how much I want to help, despite the fact that I’d go anywhere, do anything, hurt anyone necessary to take my mother’s pain away, to ease my own…I can’t.

And that one small fact is a dark night with no dawn.

The anguish never disappears completely. When it hits me, I sometimes zone out until I’m standing in front of the nursing home.

Helplessness leads to more helplessness, or however the saying goes.

If there even is a saying.

Turning in a small circle, I’m desperate to look at something— anything —on this street other than this looming building.

My eyes catch on a shop I’ve never noticed before.

Mind on overload, I jog across the street and duck inside.