12. Angie
ANGIE
I’m left alone that first night. I don’t know where Connor goes after he tucks me into bed and I don’t have the strength to figure it out.
I spiral as I study the unfamiliar ceiling, thinking about those people down in front of the house, those men who clearly hate Connor even more than I do, and for good reason.
He betrayed them. He turned his back on a beautiful woman and left her at the altar.
He did it for me.
I wake feeling like I’m hungover. It’s strange, being in this enormous room all alone.
I feel like I’m a tiny speck of dust and there’s a vast ocean all around me.
I grew up in that small apartment my whole life and I’ve never known anything else, and now my bedroom is bigger than my old living room and kitchen put together and I don’t know what to do with myself.
I take my time getting out of bed. Worries grind into me: Mom all alone, Nadia probably wondering where I’ve been, what’ll happen with Connor, this war, Sinead, everything. I drag myself into the bathroom and face the mirror.
Why me? I’m pregnant, but why would he blow up his whole life for me?
I shower and find fresh clothes in the closet. They’re all designer and I have no idea where they came from. I pick the least obnoxious jeans and simple gray shirt I can find before trying the door, intent on getting some answers.
It’s unlocked.
Which is a surprise. I expected to be trapped. I slip into the hallway, listening to the deep quiet of the house around me.
How big is this place? The carpeting swallows any noise I make.
I pause and look into the rooms as I pass, but most of them are empty.
One has a piano, half covered in a cloth, and another has what looks like a bunch of oil painting materials, though the canvas looks brittle and I’m sure the paints are all dried up.
Who lived here before Connor? Where did all this stuff come from?
I reach the end of the hall and the next set of double doors. I try it, and while the door opens, it immediately bumps into something on the other side.
“What the heck—“ I say, frowning, as I try to smash the door open with my shoulder.
“Apologies, Mrs. Maguire,” a man says on the other side. “But you’re hitting me in the head.”
“Oh, shit!” I back off, heart racing. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea?—“
An older man peers in through the crack. He’s got on black sunglasses and is rubbing the back of his skull. His hair’s shaved to stubble and his beard’s bushy. A gun’s tucked into a holster at his side.
“No worries, ma’am. My name’s Colm and I’m your bodyguard.”
“Bodyguard?” I gape at him, bewildered. “I didn’t know I had one of those.”
“You do now, ma’am.” Colm crosses his big, beefy arms over his chest. “What can I do for you?”
“I was hoping I could go find my husband. If I can get past?—“
He doesn’t move an inch. “I apologize, ma’am, but I can’t let you do that. I’m under strict orders to keep you locked down for the time being.”
“Locked down?” I repeat. “You mean he’s keeping me prisoner?”
“No, ma’am. This is lockdown. It’s for your own protection, ma’am.”
“I’m not leaving the house, I just want to find Connor.”
“I’ll send for him, ma’am. In the meantime, are you hungry? I can have the staff bring you breakfast and coffee.”
I touch my belly, glaring at him. “You can’t bribe me with food.”
“No, of course not, ma’am.”
“I’m not staying in here forever.”
“I hope not, ma’am.”
“And I’ll scream if you try to make me.”
“That’s alright, ma’am. It’s a big house and I don’t mind.”
I grimace. He looks like I’m not the first woman he’s heard screaming in rage. “Yogurt with berries and coffee with cream and sugar, please.”
“I’ll send it right up. If you need anything else, only knock. Please don’t hit me in the brain again.”
Colm slips out and the door clicks shut behind him.
I slump against the wall with a sigh. I press my eyes shut, willing myself to wake up.
This has to be some kind of nightmare. There’s no way Connor showed up at my apartment yesterday, forced me into some psychotic marriage, and locked me into a crumbling mansion all by myself. This sort of thing doesn’t happen.
Except when I open my eyes, I’m still here, and it’s very real.
I’m exploring one of the extra rooms when a young woman appears in the hall. “Mrs. Maguire?” she says brightly, wheeling one of those hotel room service carts. “I have breakfast for you. Would you like it in your room?”
“Definitely not in here.” I cough as I step over a musty old pile of rugs. “When was the last time this place was occupied?”
“No clue. I’m as new here as you are.” She beams at me and wheels the cart down the hall. “My name’s Lisa, I’ll take care of you during the day. Colm said you wanted yogurt and coffee for breakfast.”
She sets me up in the bedroom near the couch. Light blonde hair, a pretty smile. I watch her work, quietly sitting, wondering how much she’s getting paid. “If I begged you to let me out of here, would you do it?”
“No, ma’am, sorry about that.” She flashes me a sad smile. “I’m Whelan too. Not in blood, but you know how that goes.”
“I really, really don’t.”
She laughs like I told the funniest joke in the world. “Let Colm know if you need anything else.”
She’s about to leave, but I call out and stop her. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course. I can’t promise I’ll answer though.”
“That woman from yesterday, the one Connor was going to marry…” I trail off, worrying my hands together.
“Sinead,” Lisa says, her eyes flicking to the door.
“What’s her family like? I mean, I heard a little of their conversation… and I saw her brothers…” I’m not sure what I’m looking for here. Honesty, maybe, or ideally for her to tell me that Sinead’s a nice lady and her brothers are great, stand-up guys, and I don’t have anything to worry about.
But Lisa’s expression goes cold. “They’re powerful people, but your husband is doing the best he can. Will that be all?”
She leaves and I collapse down on to the couch. What the hell is happening here? They’re powerful people? I don’t have any clue what she means by that, or how Connor’s doing his best, or why I’m here or what he wants or why I’m trapped or?—
I breathe deep to keep from spiraling.
The coffee’s good. The yogurt makes me feel somewhat less lightheaded. I’m almost human again when the door opens and my husband strides into the room.
He stops near the end of the bed before he spots me.
I stare at him, back straight, perched on the edge of the couch.
He’s in a suit like always, though not the attractive one from yesterday.
This one’s more understated, still black, still perfectly tailored and fitted to his gorgeous body.
He looks like a prince, like he belongs in a place like this, while I feel like a fresh stain on the ceiling.
“I was told you were looking for me.” He says it like this is the most natural state imaginable.
“Are you really keeping me prisoner in here?”
“I gave you free rein of the full wing.”
“That’s not much better.” I stand and take a few steps toward him, but I stop myself.
I don’t know much about Connor. He was a fine boss, but there were always those rumors, and now I’m starting to realize they were all true. He really is as dangerous as everyone said.
Which means I’m in deep trouble.
“The staff will handle your needs. This isn’t going to be forever.”
“But for how long?”
“I don’t know. Until you’re safe.”
“That’s not acceptable.”
“It’ll have to be. Is that everything? I have work to do.”
“Damn it, Connor. You can’t do this to me. What about my mother?”
“She’s safe. I plan on bringing her in shortly.”
I throw my hands in the air. “You don’t know her. She might be alive but she can barely take care of herself. She needs me.”
“Your mother is a full grown woman. If she can’t survive two days without her daughter, she doesn’t deserve to keep breathing.”
“You asshole.” I grab a pillow and fling it at him. It hits his chest and bounces away. He doesn’t even flinch. “My friends are going to worry. You know Nadia from the office? We text every day. I bet she’s already sending out the SOS.”
“I can handle Nadia.”
Panic hits me and I wave my hands at him. “No, no, no, that’s not what I meant. Please don’t handle her!”
His jawline tightens. “Do you think I’m going to murder your friend?”
“I don’t know what you’re going to do! This is a lot and you haven’t told me anything.”
He comes toward me slowly. His expression smolders, caught in a strange mixture of hate and desire.
I back away but end up bumping into the arm of the couch.
I’d topple backward, but Connor covers the last few feet between us and catches me by the small of the back, propping me up, my fingers digging into his arms.
“All you need to know is you are safe here, angel. If you need something, anything at all—“ The way he says anything at all sets my skin on fire with an odd, burning pulse. “I will provide it. You already have clothes.”
“Not my own.”
“You’re right. These are better.”
“Are you always like this?”
“Yes.” His grip on me tightens. “You are my wife. You are not my prisoner. But for your own protection, you have to stay in this wing of the house.”
“For how long?”
“Until it’s safe.”
“And since you define safe, that could be forever.”
“Not forever.” His eyes drift down to my belly.
Down to where our child is growing.
I feel a strange thrill.
“A phone,” I say urgently. “Please, give me a phone at least, so I can call my mom and text Nadia. They’ll be worried.”
“I can’t.”
“I won’t try to call for help, I swear it.”
“That would be useless even if you did.”
“Great, all the more reason.”
He lets out a frustrated breath. “Will you be happy if I give you a phone?”
“Yes. I will.” For now, anyway.
He releases me. I yelp as I lose my grip on him and tumble onto the couch, feet up in the air. I kick them, calling him a jerk, but he’s already gone by the time I right myself.
I pace around and it takes a lot of self-control not to rip the room to shreds.
This is my life now, isn’t it? Connor Maguire will appear, make demands, promise that this is all for my own good, and meanwhile he’ll keep me like some pet trapped in a kennel? It’s a beautiful cage with room service, but it’s still a cage.
But maybe, maybe he’s not lying. I touch my stomach, nerves jangling.
I saw those people, I heard what Sinead said.
Connor’s involved with some very dark shit, and now I’ve been dragged into the middle of it.
Lisa even confirmed it too: the Gallaghers are powerful, and now they hate my stinking guts, not that I can blame them.
The door opens. I flinch, surprised to find Connor holding out a simple silver flip phone.
I don’t move to take it. He stares hard, not happy, but not threatening.
“What’s the catch?” I ask, heart pounding up into my throat.
“If you make trouble, I can’t promise your mother will make it here safely.”
Rage flares in my heart. “You’re threatening an old woman?”
“I’m threatening you, angel. Take the phone.”
I stride forward and angrily snatch it from his palm. He catches my wrist before I can spin away and pulls me into his body. I snarl at him, fingernails clawing against his chest, but his face gives me nothing, no sign of pain at all.
“Let me go.”
“I can’t do that. Not while you’re my wife. Not while you’re carrying my child. You might hate me now, but I will do anything to keep that baby safe. One day soon, you’ll understand.”
“Go to hell.”
He releases me and turns away. “Already a step ahead of you,” he says, quietly enough that I’m not sure he means for me to hear, as he walks off.
I spin and throw myself onto the bed. I feel helpless and weak and I hate myself for it.
I’ve always been the responsible one. My mother’s the flake and the stoner.
I grew up fast, learned how to pay a credit card bill, learned how to make sure the rent went through every month, cooked meals and cleaned toilets and washed clothes.
Now all the control I built into my life is ripped away… and it feels horrible.
I look down at the phone. It’s not mine, but it’s a phone. With shaking hands, I dial Mom’s number, and I’m afraid as it rings and rings, about to hit voicemail, before she finally picks up.
“Hello? If you’re trying to sell me a car warranty?—“
“Mom, it’s me.”
“Angie? Are you okay?” She sounds clear, thank God. “I’ve been worried sick.”
“I’m fine. I’m with Connor at his house.”
“You mean your husband? That psychopath? Hon, tell me what to do, because I’m panicking here. He said if I called the police, he’d burn this place down with me in it?—“
I let out a nasty grunt of frustration. “He lied. Look, Mom…” I’m about to tell her to call the cops. Beg her to get some help.
But what will that do?
I graze my hand over my belly and my heart flutters.
Connor’s right. He’s been thinking about this child more than I have, and if I really am in as much danger as he says, I have to ride this out.
At least for now.
“I’m fine,” I say, breathless and curling around myself, hating every word. “Don’t worry, okay?”
“I’m pretty freaked out. He married you at gunpoint. That can’t have been legal!”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m safe and he says he’s going to bring you here too. When he does, don’t fight it. There’s room service.”
A brief pause. “Seriously? Where are you?” she asks incredulously.
“Still in the city. Just do what he says, alright? We’ll be okay if we keep our heads down for now.”
“Alright, hon, if that’s what you think, but this is very, very strange. And screw that man for pointing a gun at me.”
“I’ll talk to him. He won’t do it again.”
She bursts out laughing. I grin too at the absurdity of it all. When we hang up, I don’t feel better.
But I think I’m seeing my situation clearly for once.
For whatever reason, Connor cares about this baby. That makes me important. He’s not going to hurt me, so long as I’m still pregnant. I don’t know how he feels about me, and that doesn’t matter.
We’re both aligned on this one thing: protecting our child at any cost.
Which kills me. I want to text Nadia and beg her for help more than anything in the world.
But right now that’ll only make things worse.
I’ll keep my head down. Shut my mouth. Play the game.
Until the opportunity to escape presents itself.