Under the Rose - Kathryn Nolan Page 0,60

long exhale as my pulse fluttered. The walls were pressing closer. And closer. Goosebumps shivered along my skin.

I went for the doorknob. He grabbed it first.

“You and Julian could be in just as much trouble if Roy follows through on his threat,” he said. “Bernard cannot know about this. That’s what we discussed. We’ll only appear weak.” Thomas’s face was red. And growing redder.

“I know you’re upset,” I said slowly, “but you need to let me out of this bathroom, or I’m going to yell for help.”

He blinked rapidly, shuddered. He passed a hand over his gray hair and stepped to the side immediately. He looked utterly distraught. “Christ, Birdie, you must think I have no control over my actions.”

Yes, I fucking did.

“I’m sorry,” he continued. “Truly, truly sorry.”

“Don’t let it happen again. I will speak with you but at a more opportune time.” I kept my chin raised, spine straight.

He nodded, chastised.

And when he swung the bathroom door open, Sam Byrne stood there like a tuxedo-clad wrecking ball. His gaze burned ice-blue, his fingers flexed at his sides.

“Ju…Julian,” Thomas stuttered.

“Why were you trapping my colleague in a bathroom?” Sam asked, tone nonchalant but posture rigid.

“We were having a serious discussion, and I didn’t realize I was crowding her. I’m very upset.”

“And yet she expressed her discomfort multiple times.”

“How long were you standing outside?”

“Long enough.”

The man nodded. Gulped audibly. “I apologize again. It was not my intention to frighten you. Surely my wife is wondering where I’ve gone off to.”

Sam moved nary an inch, forcing Thomas to confront their six inches in height difference. Sam’s expression was murderous—like he wouldn’t hesitate to throw Thomas down the stairs and wanted to ensure he damn well knew it. Thomas practically ran down the echoing hallway, then down the carpeted staircase.

Sam gazed at me like I was long-lost treasure, finally discovered.

Long-lost treasure he was kind of pissed at.

“Will you feel comfortable if I close this door?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m not as claustrophobic when you’re around.”

Sam clicked it closed, and I twisted the tap on, drowning out our voices with running water.

“I need another minute here to delete messages that Birdie’s getting on the site,” I whispered. “Can you cover for me down there?”

“I can,” he said somberly. A muscle ticked in his jaw.

“Thomas told me that Bernard had him and Cora steal Ward’s book. And he said that Bernard demanded they steal the letters. That man is playing a mind game I can’t figure out.”

He nodded again.

“And what the fuck is up with the vibe down there, right?” I blew out a breath, shaking my head. Sam’s massive body in this small space was starting to make me nervous. But not like Thomas had. “You and I will need to make a plan before midnight. Also, let’s admit it, the food was delicious. Those thieves know how to cater an event, am I right?”

“I told you not to leave my side.” His hands wouldn’t stop flexing—although his face was carved with worry. Had Byrne been worried about me?

“Hey,” I said, placing my hands lightly on his fists. “I’m okay. Thomas is a weirdo, but I would have kicked his ass from here to Sunday.”

“We’re in a dangerous situation, and you left my sight.”

“Our cover could have been blown, and I needed a safe place to make sure that didn’t happen,” I murmured. “I’m sorry I left you, but I didn’t have another option.”

“I thought you were hurt, Freya.”

Whatever space was left in that bathroom fell away, the outside world drowned out by running water and the blood roaring in my ears. The last thing Sam needed to be doing was saying my first name in a house filled with gun-carrying book thieves.

But the syllables sounded like pure, perfect magic on his lips.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I really am. I was only trying to keep us safe. We’re partners now. I’ll always protect you. You’ll always protect me.” I touched his arm again. “That’s the deal.”

He stared at my mouth with a look bordering on fury. I could see the effort it was taking for him to restrain himself from acting—on what, I wasn’t sure. Until he closed the remaining distance between us. Gripped my face with those strong fingers.

“You drive me fucking insane,” he whispered fiercely.

And then Sam Byrne kissed me.

27

Freya

Sam Byrne—my arch-nemesis, my reluctant partner, my competition—had me weak-kneed within seconds.

His lips moved over mine with a fine precision. There was no equivocation, only a devouring. My