Page 32 of Stolen Temptation (Irish Kings #3)

Kiara

It’s been hours.

I’ve heard nothing. Not even a sound from the hallway outside my door.

What on earth is going on out there?

And why did it have to go down while I was in the middle of the most amazing experience of my entire life?

From the moment I heard that fist pounding on the door earlier, my gut started writhing with anxious worms. As afternoon light dimmed to dusk, my fear and uneasiness have only grown. I can’t explain it, but I have a horrible feeling inside.

Something’s wrong.

And I just know things are about to get worse.

If I manage to forget about my own fear, then I spend these moments spiraling through insecurity. The way Rory left…

Right in the middle of…

My stomach lurches just thinking about it.

Rory looked pissed in that moment, and whoever came to get him—his boss, maybe?—didn’t seem pleased either.

As soon as the door closed behind him, I jumped up to lay my ear to the wood, hoping to hear the reason for the harsh interruption. But only foreboding silence followed.

In my twenty-four years of living in the vicinity of mafiosos, I know that if a man comes to collect you without a single word, that means that whatever has happened is so bad that words are useless.

I’d prefer Leo scream at me within an inch of my life than endure the weight of his silent rage. That always signaled danger. I wonder what Rory’s had to endure in the time we’ve been apart. I don’t know what to think or believe or hope for in this scenario.

Will they send me back? If so, will Rory and I ever get to see each other again?

The thought of not even having the chance to say goodbye hurts my chest. So much so that I pull my hand back from the small canvas to rub the spot while I stare hard at the swirl of colors.

I’ve already gone through one of the sketchbooks Rory brought me. It would have been too sad and pathetic to just lounge around every day and wait for him to return.

Instead, I’ve been trying to lose myself in painting the way I used to as a child. That always offered me a reprieve from the shitty circumstances of my upbringing. Gave me some peace. But right now, all I see is an abstract mess of emotional chaos.

Nothing beautiful or pleasing comes from the tip of my brush. Only anxiety. Anxious stroke after anxious stroke after anxious stroke.

But slowly, the method starts to work.

As I delve deeper into my art, my mind can’t help but mull over the high quality of the materials Rory brought me.

He must have asked someone…

That’s what I keep thinking. There’s no way he went to a store and haphazardly picked all of this out.

These brushes and watercolors are the kind young artists beg their families to buy them for Christmas.

Unless Rory’s an artist himself, he would have no way of knowing that he bought me an artist’s dream set of paints and brushes unless he asked someone for recommendations.

And that fact tells me how much he was thinking about me when he purchased these.

He could have grabbed any old cheap painting kit.

But he actually put time and thought into the gift.

If I didn’t know any better, I could almost believe he cares…

especially when he shows up every evening with a new cupcake.

Ugh. I need to quit allowing my imagination to run wild.

I’ll never make it out of this situation unscathed if I start to believe that anyone in this criminal underbelly gives a damn about me. Rory took me captive to use me as an informant, and I’m using him for sexual education.

End of story.

Shaking the thought from my mind, I resume painting. This canvas isn’t much bigger than my lap. I’ll be done with it before long.

My painting is half complete when someone knocks on my door.

I flinch from the weight of the fist pounding against the wood.

Shit. Someone’s here, and I’m sure it’s not Rory.

I have no clue who’s on the other side of that door, but I can already tell I don’t want to meet them.

Paintbrush frozen in my hand, I lurch back from the canvas I propped up in the windowsill and whirl around to face the door, heart banging around in my chest.

The click of a lock raises the hair on my arms, and then the door swings open. I was right. It’s definitely not Rory.

In walks a man so tall, he has to bow his head to pass under the frame.

I instinctively back up as he enters.

This man is broad and strong, his face weathered from years of violent crime. He’s intimidating, absolutely, but somehow…not terrifying. Not like Leo. Not yet, at least. He gives off the impression of someone who’s often impatient and displeased.

His slate gray eyes are hard but clear, and he smiles in a way that’s neither kind nor cruel. “I’m Shane.”

Oh, shit. The Shane Gallagher? As in…

Head of the Irish Kings?

Shane’s gaze drifts to the canvas in the window and then back to my face. “Rory said you were a painter.”

I nod in reply.

“Come.” This terribly powerful man holds out his hand. “Walk with me.”

I’m going to die. That’s clearly what comes next.The Kings have decided to send my corpse to Leo to teach him a lesson. It’s over. This is it.

Terrified to move but even more terrified to disobey, I set down my brush with a shaking, sweaty palm and follow Shane into the hall, mind spinning in helpless circles.

What is this don going to do to me?

My blood is cold as the Arctic, my knees weak and wobbly. I’m getting dizzy imagining every horrible scenario that might soon befall me.

Barely breathing, I use all the strength I possess to put one foot in front of the other.

In a strange, eerily peaceful silence, Shane guides me from my room to the grand staircase, where we descend. Once we’ve arrived on the ground floor, he leads me down a few short corridors until we approach a large set of double doors.

Shane swings them open, and they glide back soundlessly to reveal…a huge library with expansive glass windows that overlook an enclosed garden.

Oh, wow. What am I doing in this amazing place? Surely they wouldn’t taint such a gorgeous space by torturing their victims here.

“Rory also said you enjoy books.” After the stretch of quiet, Shane’s deep, rumbling voice startles me.

Shane enters the library, and when my paralyzed legs don’t move to follow, he ushers me in. This man has said two real things to me, both of which revolve around what Rory told him.

What’s he going to say next? Rory tells me you also enjoy his cock.

Even the thought has me cringing. If Shane Gallagher said something like that to me, I think I’d expire from sheer mortification on the spot.

Tentative and cautious, I enter the library, heart slamming against my ribs. After one more glance at Shane, my eyes begin to wander. They lock on a large painting hanging in an alcove.

One of mine.

No. One of my mother’s.

I inch closer. I…remember this one.

Memories flood me: climbing trees in the garden while my mother used the outside of the De Luca estate as a reference for castles and palaces; sitting in her lap, holding her paintbrush, while she guided my hand through the strokes.

“You do good work.” Shane’s low, soothing voice comes from the doorway behind me.

Without turning to face him, I gently reject the credit. “My mother did this.”

“I can see why the De Lucas think you’re valuable.” A beat. “Anyone would.”

Cold streams of fear slither down my chest as I face him. Does this mean Shane’s planning to use me?

A movement to the right of Shane’s shoulder catches my attention. Rory.

Descending a spiral staircase is the man I’ve spent the past several hours thinking about nonstop.

Rory’s features harden into granite. He…looks like shit, to put it nicely.

I can only describe his expression as haggard. His shoulders are slumped, almost as if someone sucked his soul from his body in the few hours we’ve been apart.

What else should I have expected?

After all, it’s not like what happened this afternoon meant anything to him.

The painful pinch of that thought unlocks my mouth. My eyes return to Shane’s. “What’s going on? Why did you bring me down here?”

“Because it’s time for you to go back to your cell.” The new smile Shane gives me chills my bones.

“What are you talking about?” I whisper.

Maybe I’m imagining the vein in Rory’s forehead that stands up on its own.

“Leonardo De Luca wants you back.” The blunt proclamation plunges a switchblade into my gut. “And that’s exactly what he’s going to get.”

Tears flood my eyes, the dam broken.

When Rory brought me those art supplies, he told me I’d be here for a while. Apparently that was a lie if after only two weeks, Shane’s preparing to trade me back to Leo.

Oh, god… My life really is over.

“ Unless …” Both my head and Rory’s snap up at the same moment. “You can give me a reason to thwart him.”

Rory looks as shocked as I am.

Is Shane claiming that he won’t send me back to Leo if I give him the information he wants?

No. That’s too good to be true.He’s bluffing.

“You’re going to send me back to him no matter what I say, aren’t you?” The thought of returning to Leo’s clutches wobbles my legs until I damn near collapse into the nearest chair.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Shane strides to a wingback chair and lowers himself into it. “That depends on you.”

Tears drip down my face. This is impossible.

What do they expect me to tell them? Leo’s business secrets?

I don’t have any of those. I don’t know what he’s been up to.

I barely understand which way is up anymore.

How am I supposed to figure out what to say to them so that they don’t send me back?

I’m overwhelmed, flooded by painful thoughts and emotions.

Am I hyperventilating?

“How much do you know about the history between our families?” Shane’s voice cuts through the mental noise.

I shake my head. “Not much.”

Enzo and Matteo used to rant about the Kings being a bunch of arrogant dickhead bastards, but I keep that information to myself.

“Leo De Luca had a grudge against my son and his wife. And before he was sent to jail in Nevada, he confided in Matteo about it, and Matteo had my daughter-in-law murdered.”

It’s not the first time my head has snapped up in Shane’s direction. “What are you talking about?” I’ve definitely never heard this story before.

“Matteo cut her up and mailed pieces of her to us.” Shane’s eyes fall from mine, pensive and cloudy, like he’s seeing her dismembered corpse in his mind. “My son was inconsolable. It was a blow worthy of Matteo’s execution. And that’s why my son did it.”

I’m speechless.

I’ve heard that the heir to the Irish Kings killed Matteo, but no one ever divulged the circumstances of the murder.

Up until now, I’d assumed it was unmotivated.

That there wasn’t any logical reason why they might have wanted him dead that didn’t have anything to do with them being violent, power-hungry monsters.

“A few months ago, Matteo’s brother Enzo appeared to take his revenge on my son.

” Shane’s explaining this because he doesn’t know who I am.

He doesn’t know I’m related to these monstrous men by blood.

Cold sweat dampens my skin at the thought of what would happen to me if that changed.

“Later, Enzo not only kidnapped the daughter of one of my men…that psycho cut into her and stole a piece of her bone. He was killed in the skirmish that followed when we sent our soldiers in to extract her.”

I spend the next few moments blinking and attempting to process that information because, seriously, what the hell? I always knew Enzo wasn’t quite right in the head, but to kidnap a woman and steal part of her bone? Who does that?

A shiver races over me. I guess I hit the jackpot in the kidnapper department.

Rory could be frightening at times, but I can’t imagine him ever doing something that depraved.

For the most part, he’s treated me well.

Put me up in a luxurious room, provided me with books when I asked.

Gifted me with art supplies and cupcakes and touched me with the kind of passion I thought only existed in fairy tales.

My stupid heart squeezes as I recount Rory’s actions.

“From what I understand, you and your mother have been De Luca property for many years now. Why?” Shane leans forward in his seat. “Who are you, really ? How do you fit into all this?”

After licking my dry lips, I clear my throat. “Like I told Rory, they kept us there to paint for them.”

Shane’s shrewd gaze dissects me like I’m a lab specimen. “Yes, but I think there’s more to the story. Something you’re holding back.”

My lungs cease functioning. He can’t possibly know the truth, can he?

Rory steps to Shane’s side, standing behind his chair to the right. I can’t help but meet his gaze. Though otherwise stoic, his eyes contain a silent plea.

He wants me to confess my secrets. Part of me is so tempted, but I can’t force myself to summon the words. As horrified as I am about the awful things my male relatives did, I’d be stupid to put my trust in the Kings. Even more so now that I understand the very legitimate reasons for their hatred.

At the moment, I’m the only De Luca within their grasp. They despise De Lucas. Ergo, admitting I’m a De Luca would place me in serious danger.

At my silence, Shane shakes his head. “I’ll give you a day to think about your answer. Use it wisely.” He turns to Rory. “You stay with her. Maybe you can convince her that I don’t bluff.”

My pulse explodes into a frantic drumbeat as Shane leaves us alone in the room.