Page 64 of His Forced Irish Mafia Bride

Silence for a moment.

“And then you follow me like I’ve done something wrong by walking away,” I added, my voice sharper now. “Like I should’ve just stood there and accepted whatever explanation you’ve decided I get.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “I came to find you because you walked out angry.”

That almost made me laugh again. “Angry?” I repeated. “You think that’s what this is?”

A pause, and then it came out before I could stop it. “I walked into your office and saw a woman who didn’t hesitate around you,” I said. “Who didn’t have to ask where she stood. Who didn’t look like she was waiting to be allowed to exist in your space.”

“That’s not what this is about,” he said.

I stepped closer without meaning to. “Then what is it about?” The silence felt like pressure, like something was being held back.

“I’m tired,” I said, my voice lower now but shaking at the edges. “I’m tired of walking into your world and never knowing what part of it I’m allowed to see.” My hands tightened at mysides. “And I’m tired of pretending like I care when I clearly don’t.”

That last sentence landed differently. It was a lie, and I regretted it immediately.

And Sean was still looking at me like he’d heard every word and still wasn’t sure which part was the most dangerous, but I held his gaze.

“You think I decide what you’re allowed to see,” he said.

I didn’t answer him.

“That’s not what’s happening,” he said.

A short, dry laugh left me before I could stop it. “Then what is?”

The question hung there longer than it should’ve, like neither of us was in a rush to survive it. He stepped closer. I didn’t move back. “You walked into something you didn’t understand,” he said, “and decided what it meant before you asked anything.”

“I didn’t need to ask.” It came out too fast.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “That’s the problem.”

My hands curled at my sides.

“You don’t have the full picture,” he said, “but you’re speaking like you do.”

“I saw enough,” I shot back.

“No,” he said immediately. “You saw what you were already looking for.” That made me step forward before I’d even realized I’d moved. There it was again, that tone, like everything I’d said was just a misunderstanding waiting to be corrected.

“Don’t do that,” I said.

“Do what?”

“Talk like I’m wrong just because I don’t accept your version of reality.”

His expression tightened. “I didn’t bring you into this to manage you.”

“Then why does it feel like you are?”

“You think this is about her,” he said finally. I didn’t answer.

Because saying it out loud would make it real in a way I wasn’t ready for.

“It isn’t,” he added.

“Then what is it about?” I asked again.