Page 117 of Carnal Wagers

“Fine.” She huffed. “He’s not right next to you, is he?”

I side-eyed Cillian, again meeting his not-so-stealthy gander, forced a smile, and walked around the island, just out of sight where he’d need to lean far over to see me. “No, of course not. Why?”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“Seriously, stop it. I’m not a prisoner.”

As if on cue, Cillian’s head came into view at an angle. With a wide motion, I shooed him off and mouthed “Stop.” What was his issue?

“So you could leave at any time?”

“Of course.”

I treaded to the door, not to prove her wrong, but because I wanted to. After slipping on my sandals, I opened the door and flinched so hard my soul almost left my body.

There stood Arthur and Smiles, shoulder to shoulder, blocking the doorway with their backs. They were like two burly sentinels whose only task was to burrow a hole into the opposite wall with their stares. Smiles’ winking smiley tattoo on the back of his shaved head creased as he cocked his head, as if awaiting orders. Even more disconcerting was the bold script beneath the yellow tattoo that spelled out “Enjoy your day” when the guy was almost as serious as my husband.

“Hold on a second,” I told Maeve, then muted the phone. “Hello, guys. Would you mind moving? I’m going to take a walk along the harbor.”

Neither gave me space. If anything, they closed ranks and choked the doorway of even the smallest crack of wiggle room.

“Where’s the boss?” Arthur scraped out, his voice close to the rasp of stone grating against stone.

“He’s busy on the phone. I’m going for a walk. Let me pass, please.”

“No can do, Ms. Marine. No one in or out without the boss’ say so.”

I shook my head. “You need to work on your jokes. It lacked humor.”

“Wasn’t our intention, ma’am,” Smiley stated coolly.

“Please get back inside. For your safety.” Arthur grabbed the door handle and began to close it.

For a split second, I considered jamming a foot through, kicking in the back of their knees, and walloping the nerve just behind their jaws to knock them out, but then again, they were just doing their jobs.

The door snicked shut, but instead of hopelessness, my inner rage gauge shot up several notches. I thought of all those times Cillian followed me when it should have been inappropriate. Such as escorting me to the bathroom when we went out to eat and then standing guard at the door, not allowing anyone inside until I exited. And his tagalongs to the drugstore when all I needed were tampons. Or how he always kept me in sight, and I rarely ever got a moment alone. Goddamn it, I really let him throw a veil over my eyes.

“Alice,” the bastard called from his office.

“Oui,” I yelled. “Still here, abruti.” Jerk.

I stomped past him, flipped him off, then collapsed on the couch, legs akimbo, arms loose, the smooth ceiling and ceiling fan we bought when decorating his condo my sole view. An ache drilled through my chest. What a fool I’d been. So blind. So utterly dazzled by the mirage of everything I’d always wanted that I hadn’t noticed how he was slowly sucking away who I was. I slammed my fist against the couch. Thump, thump, thump.

I placed the phone back to my ear. “Are you still there?”

“I wasn’t going to leave you.”

“I’ll meet you tomorrow at noon. Text me the place.”

“You sure you want to hang up? I know you’re not okay.”

My face scrunched up.

“Maybe it’s time to let this go,” she said. “Orgasms aren’t worth this.”

“Great orgasms are worth everything.”

I stopped tallying the ones Cillian gave me a long time ago, but I’d bet I was close to my ninety-one goal, if it hadn’t already been exceeded. Not that I’d admit that. Maeve would read way too much into it.