I sit on the enormous bed in the guest room and stare at the blank screen of the TV with no idea what the hell I’m doing. Why on earth did I ask to come here? I should have pleaded with them to let me go instead.
My stomach growls, and I look down in annoyance. Food would be great right now, but I don’t know if I’m allowed to leave this room. I have awful cramps too. The first two days of my period are always the worst. Of all the days for it to arrive! I have two tampons in my backpack, but nothing beyond that.
Soft knocking at the door interrupts my train of thought. “Come in,” I shout and a second later Conor walks through the door, holding a brown paper bag in one hand and what looks like a clothing store bag in the other.
He walks in and despite the vast space, he somehow manages to dominate the entire room. Still dressed in his suit pants and a crisp white shirt, he has his sleeves rolled up and there is a tattoo of some kind of bird peeking out from beneath the material. My heart flutters in my chest and I’m not entirely sure it’s purely through fear. In fact, I doubt it has anything to do with fear at all.
“I thought you might need some things,” he says as he places the bags on the bed beside me.
Sitting up, I swing my legs over the edge as I take the brown paper bag and peer inside. It contains five boxes of tampons in various sizes as well as two different types of pads, a box of Advil and a huge bar of Hershey’s. The flush creeps unexpectedly across my cheeks as the realization that he knows I’m on my period hits me.
He clears his throat. “Lisa said you needed that stuff and I didn’t know which type, so…” he shrugs.
“You got this stuff yourself?” I blink at him.
“Yeah,” he shrugs. “It seemed the quickest and easiest option.”
“Thank you,” I say with a sudden rush of gratitude to him.
Get a grip, Jessie! He only bought you some freaking tampons and a bar of candy!
“It’s not a problem. There’s some basics in there too,” he nods to the large clothing store bag. “I know the owner of the store and she picked those out for you.”
I drop the brown bag and open the large pink and white one. It contains panties, at least two bras, socks, jeans and t-shirts. I pull out a pair of jeans and look at the label.
“How did you know my size?”
He shrugs. “Sizing people up is kind of my thing.”
I nod and wonder how he has honed those particular skills. “Thanks,” I whisper.
“We can get you some decent stuff in the next couple of weeks, but that should see you through until then.”
I smile at him, and my stomach growls loudly.
“You want to come join us for dinner?” he asks as he indicates the open door with his head.
I chew on my lip as I consider his question. Do I just go sit and eat dinner with the men who have essentially kidnapped me?
“We won’t bite, Jessie. I promise. And Mikey has cooked.”
“Mikey cooks?” I arch an eyebrow at him.
“Yep. He’s good too. He trained to be a chef for two years,” he says as he holds out a hand to me. “Come. Eat.”
The gnawing hunger pains in my stomach decide for me. I reach out and take his hand and the spark from the touch of his fingertips on my palm almost makes me pull back. I look up at him, wondering if he felt that too. But, if he did, he hides it well.
I allow him to clasp my hand in his and then I follow him out of the room and towards the kitchen, where the smell of Mikey’s cooking makes my mouth water.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m sitting at the table with the four Ryan brothers eating a delicious chicken parmesan. They laugh and joke and talk about things that I imagine brothers must talk about. The new film one of them wants to watch on Netflix later, the amazing pizza place that just opened up in Brooklyn, the new waitress in their club who has been flirting with both Liam and Mikey separately, while thinking they are the same person. They include me in their conversation too, as though I’m an old family friend or a welcome guest. And I realize after a few mouthfuls of Mikey’s excellent food, that I am smiling as I listen to them chat.
Shane is quieter than the other three and I suspect he listens more than he speaks, but every so often I catch him staring at me and I know he is sizing me up. He is the protector, and I am an intruder into their world.
I look down at my food every time I catch his eyes on me. If he knew who I really was, I doubt he would have invited me into his home so willingly.
