Stolen Hearts (Hearts 1)

But I hadn’t had so much in so long, it was almost too much.

I followed Denise through the house upstairs to the wing of guest rooms. She stopped in front of the furthest door. “This one is the most private,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“There are towels and a robe in the bathroom. Would you like me to send someone to get clothes?”

Everything at my house smelled like smoke. Or was ruined by the water from the hoses. I shook my head. “I’ll handle everything later.” That seemed like a good answer even though it was pure bullshit. Denise nodded and walked back down the hallway. Morning sunlight came in through the bay windows, illuminating everything.

The bedroom was cream and pale blue, the bed a raft of comforters and pillows. A monument to sleep. I pulled the blinds and the room went dark, and the exhaustion filled me up from my toes to the top of my head.

Shower. Shower and then sleep and then . . . well, whatever comes next, I suppose.

I washed my hair three times and scrubbed the top layer of skin off my body in a hope that I could get the smell off and the fear. The fear that my sister was coming unhinged again. Fear that Ronan had done this to scare me away. Fear. Fear. Fear.

What in the world would vanquish this fear? What mantra could I recite? What research could I do? How could I pluck this like a cancer right out of my head, so I could sleep? So I could plan and think of what to do next?

Part of me wanted to let Caroline handle this, the way she’d handled my life when it fell apart last time. But as soon as I thought it, put it into concrete terms, I recoiled.

I’d spent the last two years letting fear rule my life. Letting it shove me in corners and walk in the shadows hoping to be unnoticed. Not again. Not ever again.

If anyone was going to save me this time, it was me. It had to be.

Wrapped in a pink silk robe, my hair in a towel, I walked into the dark bedroom comforted slightly by my determination. I wasn’t sure how I would do any of this, but believing was half the battle. Or so I’d been told.

Perhaps it would all be easier once I got some sleep.

There was a quiet knock on the door and expecting Denise, I said, “Come in.”

Only to have the door slide open and reveal the one thing, the one person who could put a pin in all my bravery and who, at the same time, made me ache for the things I wanted to be brave enough for.

Ronan.

15

“Are you all right?” he asked, stepping into the room. He shut the door behind him, and a liquid thrill and a liquid fear seeped through all my exhaustion, and I was suddenly wide awake.

Suddenly very aware of this thin robe clinging to my damp skin.

“Fine. What are you doing here?” There was no way Caroline would approve of her pet fixer being in this room with me.

He glanced away at the dim window, his hands in the pockets of his dark pants. His silence was deafening, and I realized he wasn’t entirely sure.

“Did you start that fire?”

His eyes met mine, and I saw deep . . . fear. For me. And I was small and tired and he’d crushed me every time we were together, so I had no reason to feel emboldened by that look in his eye, but I did.

“No,” he said. “But the investigator said it wasn’t an accident.”

“What? How do you know that before me?”

“Because I had something he wanted enough that he broke the rules and gave me what I wanted. That’s how it works, Princess.”

“What did you have?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“How can you say that? Of course—”

“His throat, Poppy. I had his throat in my hand, and if he didn’t tell me what I wanted to know I was going to kill him.”

I shut my mouth so fast my teeth clicked.

He stepped closer to me. “What matters is that the fire in the fire pit had been put out. It didn’t spread. They found accelerant all over the outside of the house. It was intentional. The fire was supposed to scare you or kill you.”

I sat down hard on the edge of the bed. Between the comforter and my robe, I nearly slid right off, but Ronan reached out and caught me.

“My sister wouldn’t do that,” I said.

“Well, maybe the fire was supposed to kill your sister.”

“Why? None of this makes sense.”

“I know.” He sat down beside me.

There was a long simple moment of silence between us as we sat shoulder to shoulder on that bed. And I was exhausted and scared and really what I wanted in that moment more than anything was comfort. From him. Which was like hoping a knife would wrap its arms around you, but I was somewhere near rock bottom when it came to my mental and emotional reserves.