Page 29 of His Forced Irish Mafia Bride

The silence that followed was heavier than the kiss.

Her voice came out lower than before, but steady. “Don’t think this changes anything.”

I was the first to move, but not in a way that restored distance between us. I straightened, re-centered, rebuilt the version of myself that functioned in rooms like this.

She watched it happen and released a groan. I could feel her frustration. She hated how quickly I became unreadable again. I dragged a hand once through my hair, showing no emotion.

When I spoke, my voice was lower than before. “What do you mean?”

Maeve let out a short breath. “You think I’m going to forget what just happened because you decide it’s inconvenient?”

“No.” The answer left me immediately. “I think you’re going to understand that it’s not going to distract me from the conversation we were having.”

Maeve held my gaze, and if looks could kill…. “You don’t get to rewrite what this is.”

I stepped to the side, putting space back between us. “I’m not rewriting anything,” I said. “I’m telling you what’s real.”

Her expression hardened, but not completely. Something in her eyes wasn’t as steady as before.

“You walked out into a city that’s actively looking for ways to hurt you,” I continued before she could cut in. “Even after what happened at the penthouse. After the enemy made his move. You think this is still about your preferences?”

She didn’t answer. Her silence told me enough.

“I don’t care if you hate me for it. You’re not moving without protection again.”

Her eyes narrowed. “If I knew what I was being protected from, that might be reasonable. But no one is telling me what’s happening or why. So it”s not your job to protect me.”

“Actually, it is.”

Maeve glared at me and turned away first. She didn’t agree with me, of course, but at least she realized arguing with me was pointless.

She started toward the corridor without looking back. She was trying to look unbothered, but I saw her hand tighten slightly at her side before she disappeared down the hall. Only when she was out of sight did I move. I walked to the window instead, and the city stretched beneath me—alive and moving, but unaware.

That city was changing. Samuel Anton’s involvement confirmed something I’d suspected for weeks but hadn’t fully named.

A war was beginning. My gaze hardened as I looked down at the city lights. Attacking Maeve wasn’t a strategy; it was a mistake, and it would be a fatal one. Because now this wasn’t about old betrayals or debts.

It was personal. And I decided, with quiet certainty, that Samuel Anton had made the most dangerous assumption of his life.

Maeve O’Connor wasn’t something he could threaten without consequences. I exhaled once. Whatever happened next, it wouldn’t stay contained.

***

Maeve walked nonchalantly into the living room. She didn’t stop at the door or look around. She just walked in like nothing inside could surprise her. After a few steps, she stopped.

I didn’t move from the window. Liam was there, leaning back against the dining table like he belonged there more than anyone else. Like expensive rooms were just places he passedthrough. He wore a black shirt and scuffed boots, and his dark hair was messy.

Everything about him looked a bit rough, like he didn’t care how he looked. My brother looked at Maeve and smiled.

“So this is her,” Liam said.

Maeve didn’t answer. She just looked at him, no emotion showing on her face. Liam grinned at her like she was someone he already liked.

That was Liam. He never looked like he was unsure. He always acted like nothing could go wrong for him. He looked around the penthouse once, then back at her.

“You’ve done well,” he said. “Very well.”

Maeve still didn’t say anything. Not a word. Not even a small reaction. She just stayed there, quiet and steady.