Page 31 of His Forced Irish Mafia Bride

“This is ridiculous,” I said. “Move.”

“No one is authorized to escort you outside without prior approval.”

I knew the answer before I asked the question. “Approval from who?”

“Mr. O’Connor.”

Something twisted inside my chest. I let out a sharp breath. “Where is he?”

“He’s unavailable.”

My jaw tightened. Unavailable didn’t mean he wasn’t around; he just didn’t want to see me. I stepped closer.

“I’m not asking. I’m leaving.”

“I’m sorry. You can’t.” The response was polite and controlled, as if designed to piss me off even more.

A humorless laugh escaped me. “I can’t? Or you won’t let me?”

No answer. The silence irritated me more than any argument could. I looked past them, down the corridor. And for the first time I really saw it—the structure and the system. Every exit had eyes on it, and all the hallways were watched by guards. Even the silence felt organized.

What kind of bullshit is this?

“I need to speak to Sean.”

“He’s not available.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only answer.” The words came too easily and smoothly. It was obvious he’d practiced them.

I took a step back. “Well, can I talk to someone else?”

“You can talk to Mr. Colt.”

It took two minutes, which seemed like hours. I was expecting another guard to show up, but the man who walked toward me looked like the person everyone else answered to.

Mr. Colt was a broad man. He wore a suit and carried himself with quiet confidence, which was immediatelynoticeable. He wasn’t trying to look tough; he simply looked like a man who’d seen every problem before and dealt with them all.

He stopped a foot away from me. “Mrs. O’Connor.”

“My name is Maeve.”

“Maeve,” he said, and smiled.

I folded my arms, feeling a bit defensive. “Are you going to tell them to move?” I asked. The guards behind me didn’t react; they just stood there.

Colt looked at me calmly, like he was trying to stay patient. “No.”

I let out a groan. “Then why am I talking to you?”

“Because I thought you deserved an explanation,” he said.

I laughed, because that seemed like a joke. “An explanation for being trapped?”

His face didn’t change. “You aren’t trapped, Maeve,” he said, which was a lie.

“Really, Mr. Colt?” I said. “Because every exit seems to have a guard standing in front of it.”