Page 19 of His Kidnapped Irish Mafia Virgin

“I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

She settled deeper into the chair, tucked one leg beneath herself, and looked at me with a mixture of confidence and curiosity. I caught myself looking at the way she’d folded herself into the chair. There was something innocent about the gesture that made me almost chuckle.

When I asked whether she wanted truth or dare, she chose truth without hesitating for a second, explaining that accepting a dare before discovering how ruthless I intended to be would be a terrible strategy.

I took a moment to think about my first question, because the game would be over before it had properly begun if I pushed too hard too soon. We needed something harmless, something that would make her laugh instead of putting her guard back up.

“So,” I said, “what’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?” She covered her face with one hand and groaned before a laugh escaped her. “I thought I was being kind.”

She shook her head, still smiling, before admitting that during her first year at university she’d decided to cook spaghetti without checking whether there was any water in the pot. She’d switched on the stove, wandered off to do something else, and only realized she’d made a terrible mistake when smoke started drifting out of the kitchen.

Somehow she’d managed to burn dry pasta before it had even started cooking, and the smell was so bad that half the people on her floor came running because they thought the building was on fire.

By the time she finished talking, I was laughing harder than I had in weeks, and judging by the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, she was too. It wasn’t just the story that amused me. It was the way she told it without trying to make herself look better, laughing at her own mistake as though it had happened to someone else.

The laughter stayed with us for a while after Nora finished telling the story. Every time we were about to calm down, one of us would snicker, and then we’d both start laughing all over again.

When the room finally became quiet, it felt nice. The silence wasn’t awkward anymore. It felt easy. As we kept playing, the game became a reason for us to sit together without thinking about all the bad things that had happened, like kidnapping attempts and arguments.

Nora tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I think we’re bad at this game,” she said. “We keep choosing truth every time.”

“I don’t see what the problem is,” I said.

She smiled. “That’s not how you’re supposed to play truth or dare.”

“So we’re both scared.” I shook my head, pretending to be upset, and her smile got bigger. She started laughing quietly. It was nice to see her like that, while she wasn’t trying to hide her feelings. She still had some caution, but it wasn’t as bad as before. For a while I could see the person she’d used to be before fear took over her life. And I wondered whether she could see the same thing in me.

“My turn,” I said.

“I choose truth,” she said again. Despite what she’d said, neither of us were ready for a dare.

“What made you choose Boston?” I asked.

The smile vanished from her face, and she looked down for a moment before answering. “I didn’t choose Boston because I loved it,” she said. “I chose it because it was big and I could disappear. Nobody knew my name and nobody cared where I came from. I thought that if I could get far enough away, I could stop looking over my shoulder all the time.”

She didn’t mention her stepfather. She didn’t have to. I didn’t interrupt her or ask for more information. There was no point in making her think about bad memories again, and I could see that she appreciated my silence. She took a breath and looked at me again.

“Your turn,” she said.

“Truth.”

She looked at me for a time without saying anything. I could tell she was thinking about what to ask me. When she finally spoke, her voice was very quiet.

“Why did you really start watching me?” she asked.

I’d known she was going to ask me that. I was only surprised it had taken her this long. “It started after you spilled beer on me that night,” I said. “It should have been an accident, but I couldn’t forget you. You were scared even before you spilled the beer. When I thought about it later, I knew I hadn’t imagined it: there was something about you that made me think there was more to your story.” I put my arms on the desk, still looking at her. “At first I was just curious. Then I started asking questions, and the more I learned, the more I realized that something wasn’t right. There were a lot of gaps in your past. Instead of making me lose interest, they made me worried. By the time I realized I was watching out for you of just watching you, it was too late.”

The room became quiet again.

“I was wrong to make decisions for you,” I said. “I’ve already apologized for kissing you without asking, but I’m apologizing again. You deserved to have a choice. I took that away from you. I don’t regret wanting to kiss you, but I do regret taking away your choice.”

She looked at me for a minute, and I stopped trying to guess what she was thinking. The game wasn’t important anymore. All that was left was the two of us sitting together with nothing to hide behind.

When she finally spoke again, her voice was barely audible.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about the kiss,” she said.

My mind went blank. I just stared at her, speechless.