Chapter 9
Saoirse
The knock on the door comes mid-afternoon.
I freeze. There have been no visitors to Declan’s brownstone since I’ve been here, so I’m not used to hearing knocking. Declan's upstairs in his office. The knock comes again—three sharp raps, confident and insistent.
I move to the window and peer through the curtain.
A woman about my age stands on the stoop. Dark hair, expensive coat. She catches me looking and waves.
My stomach drops. I don't know her, but the way she carries herself—the ease, the expectation that the door will open—tells me she belongs in a way I don't.
I unlock the door and crack it open.
She smiles. "Hi. I'm Nora. Cillian's wife."
Recognition hits. Cillian. Declan's oldest brother. The one who runs everything.
"Saoirse," I manage.
"I know." Her smile widens. "Can I come in?"
I step back because I don't know what else to do. She enters with the casual familiarity of someone who's been here before, unwinding her scarf and draping it over the back of a chair.
"Is Declan home?"
"Upstairs."
"Good. Then we can talk without him hovering." She settles onto the couch and pats the cushion beside her. "Sit. Please."
I perch on the edge, hands folded in my lap. Hope appears from nowhere and jumps into Nora's lap. Nora scratches behind her ears without missing a beat.
"She likes you," I say.
"Animals always do. People take longer." Nora's gaze is warm, assessing, but not unkind. "I wanted to meet you and welcome you to the family properly."
Family. The word feels foreign in my mouth.
"Thank you."
"And I wanted to prepare you." She shifts. Her hand, where it's petting Hope, pauses. "Sunday dinner at the O’Rourke estate. It's...a lot."
I blink. "Sunday dinner?"
“It’s held on the first Sunday of every month. And it’s mandatory. Kathleen—Declan's mother—won't take any excuses for absences." Nora's expression turns wry. "The first one I attended, I felt like I was in front of a firing squad."
My pulse kicks up. "What do I—how do I—"
"Breathe," Nora says. "You'll be fine. Declan will be there. He won't let anything happen to you."
I don't know how to respond to that.
"Kathleen can be...intense," Nora continues.
"She's not cruel, but she has very high standards, and you and I…
well, we come from a different world. The brothers will be friendly.
Lorcan will probably flirt. It's what he does.
" She pauses. "But you're an O'Rourke now.
Everyone will respect you because you're Declan's. "
The weight of all that settles over me. I'm Declan's. The possessiveness in that statement makes my skin flush.
"What if I mess up?"
"Then you mess up. Nobody's perfect." Nora reaches over and squeezes my hand. "I ran away once. Did Declan tell you?"
The change of topic is abrupt, and I find myself shaking my head.
“Not long into our marriage, I convinced myself I was doing Cillian a favor by leaving. That he'd be better off without me." Her voice goes quiet. "I was wrong.”
My throat tightens. “You went back?"
"He found me in a motel room and brought me home after he convinced me I was worthy.” She meets my eyes. "Declan's different from Cillian in a lot of ways. But they're the same in one way—they’re fiercely loyal. Declan won’t give up on you, and he won’t give you up.”
The words shouldn't make my insides flip-flop, but they do.
"I don't know how to do this," I admit. "Be a wife. Be part of a family. I've never—"
"Neither did I." Nora's smile is sad and understanding. "I came from a bad place. My father was abusive and sold me to pay a debt. I showed up at Cillian's penthouse with everything I owned in a garbage bag."
She looks so poised and put together. I'm a bit startled by this revelation. "You—"
"I know what it's like to feel like you don't belong in this world. To think you're temporary. But you're not temporary.” She leans forward. “You're married. Marriage in this family is permanent. And permanent means you're protected, provided for, and part of a family.”
Tears prick my eyes. I blink them back hard.
"It's okay to want it," Nora says. "To want to stay. To want to be safe."
I shake my head. "I don't know if it is. I don’t even know how to want things anymore.”
“I started small. With wanting a full belly. Then a hot shower. Then a soft bed to sleep in.” Her hand squeezes mine again.
"Eventually, as each of your wants becomes fulfilled, you'll get better at allowing yourself to want bigger and better things—and at knowing you deserve them as much as anyone does.”
We sit in silence for a moment. Hope purrs between us.
"Thank you," I whisper.
"For what?"
"For coming here. For telling me your story."
Nora stands and pulls me into a hug before I can react. Her arms are warm and solid and smell like lavender.
"We're sisters now," she says into my hair. "That means you're not alone anymore."
When she pulls back, both our faces are wet.
She wipes her own eyes and laughs before winding her scarf around her neck. "Sunday. Two o'clock. Wear your nicest outfit. And remember—I’ve got your back, and so does Declan.”
I walk her to the door and watch her descend the steps to where a black SUV waits at the curb. A man in a suit opens the door for her, and she climbs inside without looking back.
I close the door and lean against it.
Sisters.
I've had foster sisters, temporarily. But never one who actually wanted to claim me as theirs.
Hope winds around my ankles, meowing.
I scoop her up and carry her to the kitchen. She purrs against my chest, a small warm weight that grounds me.
The brownstone is quiet around me. Not the hostile silence of a shelter or the wary quiet of a squat. This is different. This is...peaceful.
I set Hope down and look around the kitchen. The clean counters. The stocked pantry. The coffee maker that Declan programmed to start automatically at six every morning because he noticed I liked coffee.
He noticed.
I cross to the window and stare out at the street. A guard, whose name I’ve learned is Corcoran, stands on the corner with his hands in his pockets, looking nonchalant, but his eyes are scanning vigilantly.
This house. This man. This life. It's more than I've ever had. And I realize a truth that steals my breath.
I don't want to leave.
Not because I'm trapped. Not because I'm scared of the alternative. Because I like it here.
The realization terrifies me, and I grip the edge of the sink and force myself to breathe.
Upstairs, a door opens. Footsteps move across the floor. Declan's office to the hallway. The stairs creak under his weight.
My pulse jumps.
He appears in the doorway, phone in hand, brow furrowed. When he sees me, he stops.
"You okay?"
I nod. My voice won't work.
His eyes narrow. "Nora was here. I saw her car leave." He pockets his phone and crosses the room. Stops a few feet away, giving me space but close enough I can feel the heat radiating off him. "What did she say?"
"She told me about Sunday dinner."
He nods. "I was going to tell you tonight."
"She said I'm an O'Rourke now."
The corner of his mouth turns up. “Of course you are. You’re my wife.”
The certainty in his voice does things to my insides. Heat floods my chest, my stomach, and travels lower.
I should step back. Create distance. Protect myself. Instead, I move closer.
When he sees the desire in my eyes, his breath hitches. "Saoirse?”
I take another step. We're inches apart now. Close enough I have to tilt my head back to see his face.
"I want you, Declan.” I lift my hand and press it flat against his chest. His heart pounds rapidly under my palm. “If you're my husband, and I'm your wife, don't you think it's time our relationship becomes more…physical?"
He catches my wrist. Not hard. His grip is careful.
"You don't know what you're saying."
"I know exactly what I'm saying." My voice shakes but doesn't break. His eyes search mine. Looking for doubt, for fear, for any sign I don't mean it.
He won't find it.
The careful control in his face cracks.
"If I touch you," he says, voice low and dangerous, “we will be tearing down a barrier—permanently.”
My pulse hammers against his thumb. “Let’s tear it down.”
His grip tightens on my wrist. His other hand comes up to cup my jaw, tilting my face up.
"Last chance, Saoirse. Say the word, and I’ll walk away."
I rise on my toes, close the distance, and press my lips to his.