Page 40 of His Forced Irish Mafia Bride

“Mr. O’Connor also said something else.”

I frowned. “What?”

A small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. “He says you shouldn’t make a habit of inventing permissions.” Then he went back to work. And despite myself, I smiled.

***

Nora was already talking before she was fully inside the penthouse. “There you are,” she says, looking me over. “Still standing. Good.”

“You’re here.”

“Obviously I’m here.” She stepped, the elevator doors closing behind her. “Yes, your security almost sniffed my skin off, but I made it through.”

“Oh, don’t pay them any mind. They’re all so crazy. Especially Dilligan.”

“You sounded off in your last call.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.” There was no hesitation or debate in her voice. She was certain, like she’d known me longer than I’d known myself.

She dropped her bag somewhere behind her without looking, already moving deeper into the room, like she was checking everything.

Then she looked at me properly, warm and without judgment. “I missed you,” she said.

I huffed a breath that almost becames a laugh. “I missed you, too.”

“Good,” she said immediately, like she’d been waiting for that exact answer.

She walked past me, brushing my shoulder lightly on the way. “You look different,” she said over her shoulder.

“It’s been a few weeks.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

I followed her into the kitchen without thinking. I didn’t want any distance between us right now.

“What, then?” I asked. She leaned on the counter, looking at me like she was trying to place something.

“You’re here,” she said finally. “But not fully here.”

I didn’t answer straight away.

“Okay,” she said, lighter again, like she was choosing not to push too hard yet. “Start simple. Are you eating properly, or am I going to have to intervene again?”

I scoffed. “I’m fine.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is an answer.”

She smiled at that. Then she reached over, opened the fridge like she owned it, and shut it again immediately.

“Empty,” she said. “Classic.”

“It’s not empty. Are you blind? With all that food in it, you say it’s empty?”

“It’s emotionally empty,” she corrected herself.