29. Summer
Chapter 29
Summer
F inn drives slow. You’d think for someone as young as he is, and as involved in organized crime as he is, he’d be a bit more edgy. Faster.
Nope. He drives like my nonna , and I think she’s rolling over in her grave being compared to him right now.
I glance down at my phone. It’s 5:05 p.m. I’m late.
Kieran’s message said 5:00 p.m. and I know places like Luxe Atelier usually keep a tight schedule. My hope is that I’m their last appointment of the day and won’t be holding any other clients up.
After I fell asleep, having unbuttoned my jeans to accommodate for my food baby, Allie knocked on my door at 4:30 p.m. urging me to get ready because Finn was already here to drive me. I had to wipe drool and leftover scone crumbs out of my hair before darting to the bathroom to pee and splash some water on my face.
There was a grand total of five minutes spent putting myself together into something presentable before I ran downstairs, said goodbye to Allie and Aoife, then ran to the car.
The minor interaction I had with Finn when I slid into the back seat for the second time today consisted of me commenting, “You again, Finn? Kieran have you on transport duty?”
He grunted in response before ignoring me the rest of the way. Well, almost. We’re still not there yet. I take another look at my phone. 5:10 p.m.
“Oh, please hurry up,” I mumble under my breath. It’s not that I’m eager to try on clothes for my new fake life, but more so I made a promise to myself with my second chance here in Boston. That I’d respect the time given to me by others—something I never cared about in my previous life.
Another two minutes later, and we pull up to the entrance. Sleek black glass panels line the front of the store with tinted windows that make it impossible to see inside. A polished brass plaque to the right of the building bears the name Luxe Atelier in a chic minimalist typography, and as I step out of the car, discreet font beneath it reads, By Appointment Only .
Through the reflection in the black glass, I see the car I exited pull away, and I spin on my heels, waving my hands. Isn’t he supposed to stay to take me home? I blink as the car’s taillights disappear around a corner.
With my only option to go in, I pull on the handle and enter the store.
Holy jeez.
Dark sensual lighting is strategically placed to highlight the curated collections of designer clothing hanging on gold-accented racks. Plush sapphire-blue velvet sofas are arranged around a detailed Persian rug placed centrally over rich hardwood floors.
My eyes flutter closed as I inhale the swirling rose perfume mixed with artisanal leather from the handbags backlit in floor-to-ceiling cubbies.
“Ye’re late.”
I spin around to find Kieran sulking by the glass windows. Hands tucked into his suit, he leans against the glass, studying me. He’s all hard lines and stern expression while his black suit has not one wrinkle in it from the day. The green of his eyes pierces through the boutique’s faint lighting as he drags them down my poorly dressed body.
My jeans are riddled with lines and creases. Something my mother would never allow, especially in a place like this.
My brain tries to compute his being here. His message said nothing about him meeting me, and I’m not sure why I didn’t think he would be.
Even though surprised by his appearance, I shrug. “Yeah, well, Finn’s an old lady.”
The corner of Kieran’s mouth twitches. “Aye. I’ll let him know ye think that.”
We stare at each other, and the thumping of my heart turns into a gallop as his eyes trail down my two-day jeans. He’s probably embarrassed I look the way I do.
“I’m sorry about”—I gesture up and down—“this.”
As if realizing his perusal, he snaps his head up. “What ye wear doesn’t matter to me, Summer.”
I raise my brows. “Then why are we here?”
“Ye need clothes, do you not?”
“Well, sure. But there’s a Target ten minutes from here. That’d been fine.”
Kieran’s pupils darken. “Ye deserve more than that.”
Actually, I don’t. Pretty sure after that awful night seven years ago, I deserve nothing.
“Mr. O’Donnell. So sorry to keep you waiting. And this must be?” A tall, long-legged woman dressed in a black dress approaches us and one of her eyebrows quirks at me.
She’s beautiful. Model material. With platinum blonde hair pulled tightly into a low ponytail, her amber eyes sparkle. Aside from the freckle above her plump upper lip, her face is flawless.
“Me fiancée. She needs an entire wardrobe, Sarah. Put it all on me account,” Kieran says, pulling at his suit cuffs like they itch. He almost looks uncomfortable.
“Of course. Right this way.” She beckons me to follow, and I half expect Kieran to walk out of the store. But, instead, he follows behind me, shrugging off his suit jacket and rolling the sleeves of his white button down while sitting down on one of the plush chairs.
“I’ll pull some outfits for you,” Sarah says. “Please, make yourself comfortable. Anything to drink, Mr. O’Donnell?”
I notice she doesn’t ask me. Rolling my eyes, I fall back onto the love seat that nearly swallows me. Now I don’t want to move.
“Water for me, and whatever Summer wants.” Kieran pulls out his phone and looks at the screen as Sarah bats her eyelashes at him.
“And for you?” She turns to look at me.
“Water is fine. Thank you.”
Sarah returns with two glass bottles of Veen water and hands them off as she scurries back to picking pieces off the well-spaced racks and creating a capsule on a rolling one.
Kieran continues to work on his phone, and I take time in the undisrupted silence to observe him. His brows, furrowed in a permanent V, bunch together as his fingers fly across the keyboard. His long-muscled legs are spread wide as he leans back in the most casual way. Despite what must’ve been a long day, his hair is combed perfectly in place, and I find myself wanting to mess it up a little. I’ve seen it when his copper hair is unkempt, like he’s run a hand through it several times. The pieces drag across his forehead in loose curls, and I want to twirl them around my finger.
I chew on my lip, tracing his sharp cheekbones, and when he glances up at me, he does a double take.
He raises his eyebrows, and heat flames my face, but I don’t look away. It’s a battle of the stares; one I’m determined to win until Sarah steps in front of me to divert my gaze.
“All right, here you go. Let’s try on.” She leads me to a dressing room hidden behind a velvet curtain matching the seating around it—a clear signal that whoever’s behind it is the entertainment, the main attraction.
She gives me a plaid skirt and cream blouse that looks like something a lawyer, or worse, my mother, would wear. Then she parades me out to the center of the rug to stand in front of Kieran.
Well, this is humiliating.
He looks up from his phone, and the sound of the lock button clicks before he leans an elbow on the arm of the chair and props his chin up on his fingers.
“What do you think?” Sarah asks. Him, not me. I bite down on my tongue to keep the words from spewing.
Kieran looks at me. “What do you think?”
I smirk. “I don’t know. Haven’t seen a mirror yet.”
He looks to Sarah, and she responds with a tight-lipped smile before moving to a drape on the wall. When she pulls it back, a floor-to-ceiling mirror accented in an intricate gold design appears. She ties up the drape with a tasseled rope.
“How about now?”
I look in the mirror, and it’s not half bad. Considering my hair is a snarled mess, and my makeup-free face is a shade lighter than I typically like to go out in public, the outfit isn’t half bad.
“It’s fine. Thanks.”
“Fine? The skirt is Chanel,” Sarah states, her tone disbelieving.
I stopped caring about name brands years ago, so I shrug.
She scoffs, then leads me back into the dressing room, and we repeat the same insanity for the next two hours. She dresses me, marches me in front of Kieran, who seems to care what I think, and then I decide yes or no to the excessive outfit.
By the time I’ve secured several dress pants, blouses, skirts, a few pairs of jeans, and three pairs of Jimmy Choos, my stomach is growling at me. Not to mention that expensive bottled water has rushed to my bladder and now I’m in physical pain.
Inside the dressing room, I’m about to put on my old clothes, ready to get out of here, when Kieran’s voice sounds on the other side.
“Sarah. What about this black evening gown ye have here?”
I deflate, then cross my legs. Oh, my god I have to pee.
Sarah pokes her head out of the room, and there’s elation in her voice as she speaks. “Oh, that’s a beauty. We just got that in. It’s Versace with gorgeous draping. The asymmetric strap has that gold tone link you see here, and the slit up the side is stunning. Do you want her to try it on?”
I don’t hear his reply, but I assume it’s a yes when her head and the dress morph back behind the curtain. She holds it up to me, smiling.
The silk washes over my body like water. Braless, the fabric is cool against my chest turning them sensitive. I kick my leg out of the slit, loving the freedom of movement. I haven’t made it to the mirror yet, and I’m already thrumming with anticipation. It feels incredible.
Sarah draws back the curtain, and I freeze, seeing Kieran pacing right outside. That poor Persian rug.
He startles upon seeing me, eyes wide as he takes in my dress. Sarah ushers me to the mirror and my mouth drops open when she steps aside.
Hugging every curve, this dress moves fluidly, almost liquid-like with each of my movements. The black shimmers, catching the light while cascading to the floor and elongating my short figure. The neckline is indeed asymmetrical. The right shoulder has a thicker fabric resembling a capped sleeve, while the left is a thin strap with a gold link resting against my clavicle.
Kieran steps up behind me, so close I can feel the deep exhale of his breath on my exposed back. When I meet his gaze in the mirror, his nostrils flare ever so slightly, and … did it get darker? The normal vibrant color has given way to a moody obsidian green, and I shiver.
“Leave us,” Kieran barks, and Sarah jumps at the command in his voice. She moves toward the back of the store, disappearing through another door.
Awareness tingles behind me as the warmth of Kieran’s chest grazes my back. I continue to watch him as he narrows the distance between us, invading my space. My skin prickles, and my eyelids nearly flutter shut when his voice drops an octave.
“Do ye like it?”
I pull my lower lip between my teeth and nod. “I’m not sure where I’d wear something like this, though.”
He leans down, mouth hovering outside the shell of my ear. My breath hitches with the air he releases.
“A dress like this. On a woman like ye. I’ll find an event to take ye to.”
We study each other. Like we’re seeing each other for the first time. Actually seeing. The Irish mob boss and the washed-up Cosa Nostra princess.
Warmth spreads down my thighs and my pulse speeds up. What’s he doing?
Featherlight fingers trail up my arms, but I can’t look at where he’s touching me. I can’t rip my gaze away from his. The palm of his hand splays across my abdomen, and he pulls me into himself. I gasp when his hips press into my backside.
“Kieran, what …” But my words are cut off by my whimper as he circles languid strokes on my belly
“Ye’ll wear this dress for me. Won’t ye, Summer.” There’s a rawness in his voice. It’s riding on the undercurrent of his demand. Part of me wants to rebel, to push back and refuse the dress he picked out. A rush of exhilaration buzzes under my skin as I wonder if he’d punish me.
I nod, and he grips me tighter. “Good girl.”
“Oh god.” I practically moan the words as his hand climbs up my stomach and closer to my chest. Heat erupts in my core as his caress grows bolder under my rib cage. Those loose hands wander, creating a quivering so deep it aches.
Unsteady on my legs, my knees wobble, and I lean back on him, my head falling back where his shoulder meets his chest. My eyelids are heavy, but I resist the urge to close them. Still, I hold his stare.
A solo finger drags up the valley between my breasts and I want to grip his hand, directing him to where I need him to tweak and squeeze. But I don’t, and he doesn’t pause there. The rough pads of his fingertips trace my collarbone, sweeping back and forth while leaving goose bumps in their wake.
“Ye’re so beautiful.” He dips a finger underneath the thin strap, pulling it down.
Desire twists my insides, and I’m not sure I’ve craved someone so much in my life. I wrestle between wanting him to strip me naked right here and swatting his hands away to preserve any dignity I have left.
This burn unfurling within me to explore more with him, scares me. He’s reaching in deep, scooping out a pulsing need that rivals all others.
We don’t do this. We banter and irritate each other; we don’t make each other feel this trembling sensual frustration. Right?
My dress falls, the silk material now barely covering my chest. His lips brush against my cheek, the stubble on his chin skimming a path down my neck. I want more. Want him to press his lips into my neck. To nip and suck. I want to get lost in him.
But the moment is doused with his next words. “We have to go.”
I blink, stiffening as though the pleasurable seconds between us were merely a dream.
He pulls away, and the loss of his heat and his touch is downright angering.
“Sarah!” Kieran yells, the sound echoing off the walls of the studio.
The metallic sound of a door opening follows his shout and Sarah comes bustling in. “Mr. O’Donnell. Is everything okay?”
“Aye. Put all this on me account and have it packaged up to be delivered before the end of the week.”
“I’ll have it delivered tomorrow,” she touts, raising her chin. “Anything else?”
“Summer has access to me account any time. Whenever she needs. No limit.”
Her mouth drops open before she snaps it shut, and I can’t help the lungful of air I fill my chest with at her shock.
Perhaps I’m being petty, or maybe it has something to do with how Kieran’s hands expertly teased me, but I can’t help but hope it’s only me.
I look at her and smirk. Hopefully she’s annoyed, too.