Page 59 of His Forced Irish Mafia Bride

Teresa finished wrapping my ankle and pressed the bandage down once, firm and practiced. Then she let go. “Keep weight off it,” she said.

“I will,” I replied.

I stayed where I was for a second longer than necessary. I didn’t want it to end there. Teresa had already turned back toward her work, cloth in hand again, like the moment had already ended.

So I spoke before the space closed completely. “Thanks,” I said. She gave a small sound of acknowledgment without looking at me. I shifted carefully against the wall.

“You’re always around here,” I added, like I was noticing it for the first time.

“Part of my route,” she said.

I nodded once. “I’ll probably be around here more often,” I said. Her hand paused briefly on the cabinet. I watched hercarefully, then continued in the same tone. “So I’m sure I’ll run into you again.”

“Probably,” she replied. Neutral, but not dismissive.

I adjusted my stance again, testing my ankle quietly. Still stable. I let a small pause settle between us before adding the part that mattered.

“Next time,” I said, “I’ll owe you a proper thank-you. And maybe a gift.”

That made her glance at me again—short and measuring, then back to her work.

“Don’t make it a habit,” she said.

I almost smiled. “I’ll try not to injure myself for it,” I said lightly. That earned nothing outward, but I could feel the shape of the moment shift slightly.

Not trust or familiarity yet, just a recognition that I was someone who would be around for a while. That was enough. I pushed myself up slowly, careful on the ankle. Before I turned away, I added one last thing, quieter now.

“Next time you’re on a break, I’ll find you.”

She didn’t respond immediately; she just kept wiping the cabinet. But she didn’t tell me not to. And that was what I carried with me as I walked away.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Sean

I woke before I meant to. The room was still half-dark, light pulling weakly through the edges of the curtains. Everything was in place. Nothing was disturbed, the kind of order that usually meant nothing had gone wrong in the night.

Usually.

I stood and walked across to the glass. The city below didn’t care what kind of night I’d just come out of. It never did. It kept its rhythm like nothing could interrupt its pattern.

I stayed there longer than I needed to, my mind blank. I exhaled once through my nose and turned away. That was when I heard the knock.

I didn’t need to ask who it was. I opened the door. Declan was already there, no hesitation or greeting.

He had a file in his hand and the kind of stillness that usually followed a decision, not a question. His eyes didn’t search my face. He already knew I hadn’t slept properly. “Things escalated overnight,” he said.

I stepped aside and let him in. The file hit the table with a flat sound that felt louder than it should have. I didn’t open it immediately because the way he placed it told me enough.

“Start from the top,” I said. Only then did I reach for the file. Declan didn’t speak immediately after.

He never wasted silence unless something was already in motion. I was still rubbing sleep from my eyes when I opened the file. Paper wasn’t what made it heavy. It was the way he stood there watching me read it, like he already knew I wouldn’t like it.

“Anton hit again,” he said.

I blinked once, forcing myself to focus. “Where?”

“West logistics corridor. One of the secondary supply chains.” That made my jaw tighten before I could stop it. Iscanned the report quickly now, not because I was interested in details, but because I needed confirmation of what I was already thinking.