CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ava
D espite what anyone thinks, I don’t want to die. My nerves have settled, and the fog is clearing in my brain. There’s no benefit to killing Griffin.
Right now.
And he’s right. I don’t trust Ares.
After I’ve put on a comfortable pair of dark jeans, a silk top with a jacket, and fancy flats, Griffin sits next to me in the SUV. We drive for a while, the car zig-zagging down side streets and around double-parked assholes.
The driver slows down, reaching a tree-lined street with handsome luxury townhomes.
“Don’t move,” Griffin whispers all husky in that damn accent.
A shiver goes through me, remembering that the lust in his voice brings out his deepest brogue.
He gets out on his side and comes around to open the door for me. I take his hand and let him help me out. To my surprise, Griffin holds my hand as we walk to the curb. His grip is warm, and it’s the first form of affection I’ve felt in...seven years when I slept with him .
It weakens me briefly, and I hate these baser needs I can’t control.
“Thank you for the threads. Do you buy all your girlfriends’ clothes at Holden Couture? Or just your captives?”
“Neither.” He glares at me. “I don’t have a girlfriend. Haven’t had one in...a long time.”
He doesn’t look ravenous for sex. A man that good-looking with a great cock isn’t lacking company. My brothers are man whores. I get the type. Here I am, marrying one so they can do business together.
Birds of a feather, but I’m the one covered in pigeon poop!
“And you’re my first captive,” Griffin adds with a smirk.
“An inaugural run. Cool.” I glance back at the bag. “How do you know luxury women’s clothing?”
“My sister is related to the owner of Holden Couture through marriage. I called her and asked for a recommendation.” He has a sister...
Hmmm.
“And did you tell your dear sister it’s for your fiancée who was in a trunk at the time?”
Griffin stops dead in his tracks, his grip tightening around my hand. “Before I answer that, you need to know a sensitive tidbit about my family and my sister so you don’t find yourself blushing from embarrassment.”
The steel in his voice gets my attention.
“Okay,” I say, softening.
“When I or anyone in my family refers to my sister in the present, they’re talking about Siobhan, who also goes by Sabine. But if a sister is mentioned in the past, they might be speaking about my other sister Norah, who passed away.”
The pain in his voice guts me. People expect to lose their parents. And only when we get older do we expect to lose a sibling. But his sister Norah clearly died when she was young.
Griffin Quinlan shows a sense of family loyalty I don’t think I’ve ever seen from my brothers. No one dared to mention Alexander in the few short months I was home.
“We, um. Have something in common then,” I say instead of a sorry, which I’m sure he’s heard. “Alexander...”
“You’re right,” he says and strokes my cheek. “We have a lot more in common, too.”
I knew that right away seven years ago. Until I thought he was a hitman.
Clicking my tongue, I say, “So the sister related to Victoria Holden is Siobhan? Who I should call Sabine?”
“Aye,” he says, smiling. “Years back, her husband put her in a trunk, too. Family tradition, I guess. Even though we wanted to kill him for it. But they’re together almost five years now, and expecting their first wee one.” He clears his throat. “Baby. Forgive me, it’s been a long time being around someone who isn’t Irish.”
“I figured that’s what you meant.” I stare cautiously at the daunting townhouse. “You... You can accept a strong woman in your life?”
“I prefer one. Just not one determined to slit my throat.”
Sounding like I’m giving in, I mock in a deep voice, “I promise not to kill you.”
“ Now I feel better.”
We keep walking until Griffin stops at the cream-bricked townhouse with windows framed in black lead. The blend of old-world luxury on the outside fits the neighborhood and reminds me of what Ares said about how the Irish honor tradition.
“Here’s home,” he announces proudly. “For now.”
For now?
“What about the rest of my clothes, shoes, jewelry, toiletries?”
Griffin looks me up and down. “I don’t see you as a high heel, jewelry woman.”
“I’m not. That stuff at my aunt’s house is all nonsense they bought me in December to dress me up as a doll for Troi’s precious heir.”
“I’m the heir.” Griffin smirks.
“And you put me in a trunk.”
“Not going to let that go?”
“Not when it makes you blush. Oh, wait.” I lean in. “That’s the shiner I gave you.”
“Cute. You’ll get all your clothes and anything else you want.”
“Ugh, I have to play the part of a princess, right?”
“Not to me.” Emotions play across his face. “I never wanted a princess. Be whoever the hell you want to be.”
“Like, um, Hadleigh?”
A weighty stare stretches out between us, lust and stormy tension brewing in his eyes. “Did I fuck you like you were a princess or Hadleigh, the girl I met in a bar who had me by the balls at hello?”
Griffin fucked me like a whore and I loved it. It was raw... Primal.
My core tightens. Griffin wants the real me. But Ares is offering him a princess. A prize.
“I don’t remember,” I say, unable to look at him.
“Liar,” he hisses. “Are you wet right now?”
“No,” I whine. “I woke up in a cage .”
Griffin snaps back, his eyes softening. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I promise, no one will put you in a cage again. No one will go near you. And if someone tries to hurt you, I kill them. Not you. Got it?”
“We’ll see.” I shrug.
“We’ll see, what? Which part?” Griffin opens an iron gate and leads me along a stone path.
“I’d rather keep you guessing. Right now, I need a real shower with real shampoo.”
“Your brother is bringing everything over for you.” He clears his throat and stops at his front door. “He and I have to have a long talk.”
“Can’t wait to hear that conversation.”
“Alone.”
“Figures.” Before crossing the threshold where I will officially be his captive fiancée, I look up at all the levels. There are six in total. Wow.
Griffin turns to his brothers and sneers when they try to follow us inside. “Give me a minute alone with her.”
“You sure?” Connor says, eyeing me cautiously.
Smart guy...
“She doesn’t have any weapons.” Griffin looks back at me with a hand raised in a defensive position. “Right?”
I blink up at him. “I haven’t figured out how to pickpocket you guys yet.”
“Comforting.” Griffin huffs. “All clear. See you brats later. Go get a pint. Call Trace and Rhys and give them an update.”
Griffin’s guard opens the front door from the inside and greets us. The modern opulent interior offers a stark contrast to the shadowy Irish underworld he rules. We get inside a breathtaking foyer, but he pins me against the wall, his fingers around my throat again .
“You like choking me,” I get out, trying to sound strong.
“You seemed to like it seven years ago.”
“So did you.” I raise my hand to cover his. “What do you want to tell me that you can’t say in front of your brothers?”
“Maybe I just wanted to be alone with you.”
“I won’t fuck you.” Mostly because I’m not sure what I’ll agree to if I get addicted to the kind of sex we had for hours in his motel room.
And I can get addicted to this guy’s cock. I’m an adrenaline junkie after all.
He tilts his head. “But you’ve come around to the marriage part?”
If Ares made this deal, there’s no getting out of it, short of killing Griffin, and maybe some of his brothers if they get in the way. That will put the world’s biggest bounty on my head.
“I came to terms with it last Christmas. Then I got kidnapped by your cousin.”
“Your brother tried that,” Griffin laughs. “That line of guilt won’t work on me. Brandon was a bastard who Troi never recognized. I share no blood with either of them. I’m related to his wife. I also don’t share his name. And while I can think of plenty of awful things to do to you, putting you in a cage isn’t one of them.”
“What...what kind of awful things?” I ask, feeling excitement pump through my veins.
To my surprise, Griffin takes my hand and puts it on his groin. It’s grown into a thick bulge after putting his hand around my neck.
“Starting here,” he growls.
“I thought you hated me.”
“Oh, I’ll fuck you like I hate you.” He quirks a grin at me. “Something tells me you’ll like it better that way.”
“Did you say something outside about a proposal? I don’t suppose I’m getting a marriage proposal with rose petals and chocolate-covered strawberries.”
His eyes dark, he says, “We’ll talk details in my office. First, you’ll meet the house staff.”
He steps out of the way and my jaw drops.
The old-world architectural charm on the outside has been updated with interior modern features. It still has high ceilings with sleek hanging light fixtures and wide archways with carved moldings. But what may have been a grand marble staircase has been replaced with an open system of steps behind glass.
Ares and my other brothers have penthouses, bachelor pads decorated in gray and stark white for contrast. Cold. Not very warm or woman-friendly.
This place looks like a home.
“Who lived here?” I ask.
“Troi’s wife.” Griffin stops and stares at me. “I found out that in the last years of my Aunt Mary Ellen’s life, she lived here alone. I felt comfortable taking it over. I’m selling the rest of Troi’s homes and apartments.”
“You never met Troi?”
“Not once.” Griffin shoves his hands into sexy trouser pockets. “He was in hospice under heavy sedation with weeks to live when I learned of my connection to his wife.”
Something springs to mind. “I... I met him. At the council meeting.”
I spare Griffin his threat of raping me until I’m pregnant. The man is already dead. And now so are both his sons.
“I didn’t meet your brother Ares until New Year’s Day,” Griffin informs me.
I take him in again and admire his nice suit. But I can’t stop seeing him naked in that shower with me earlier. “And you decided to rescue me on your way to a wedding?”
“We got confirmation this morning that Brandon looked ready to leave that apartment building. The guy who got married is my enforcer. And my cousin. I had to show my face and give an update.”
I fold my arms. “Great message you’re sending about your future wife that you go to a wedding without her.”
“You were there.”
“In a trunk. Even better.”
He leans into me, getting closer than I expected. “You tried to kill me.”
“Touchy, touchy.” I push him off and spin around, but my eyes widen when I’m face to face with an older man in a brown suit and a woman about the same age wearing a gray boxy coat dress with a lot of buttons.
Griffin follows my gaze. “This is Jon and Bridget. They worked for my aunt. Now they work for me. Here in the house.” Putting his arm around me, he faces them. “Jon and Bridget, this is Ava Zervas. My fiancée.”
I watch to see the shock in their eyes. And...nothing. Just a sterile nod. The shit I can imagine these two must have seen living with Troi Keller’s wife. They didn’t even flinch at Griffin’s busted face while he introduced a woman no one’s ever met before as a fiancée.
“Hello,” I say, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden.
Do they know I woke up in a cage, and now I’ll be sleeping in this one?
God, I’m just a fucking pawn to these people. Rage bubbles under my skin as I glance around for something to hit Griffin with and make a run for it.
Only...
This place is...nice.
Griffin said I can be whoever I want to be. Given that gangsters stormed my aunt’s house and put her and my cousins at risk, I can’t move back there. And something tells me none of my brothers want a roommate to cramp their man-whoring style.
“Welcome, Ma’am,” Bridget greets me, bringing my attention to her, especially her American accent.
I would think the old Irish broad who used to live here would have her own kind working for her. “Hello. You can call me...Ava.”
Griffin’s right eyebrow raises. When he turns away, I want to flip him the bird because I know he expected me to say Hadleigh.
“Drop off a shopping list to me when you can so I’ll make sure we’re stocked with whatever you need,” Bridget says, turning my attention back to her.
“Thank you,” I mutter a response, feeling the walls close in.
“Ava’s brother is due here in a few minutes,” Griffin announces. “We’ll be meeting in my office. He’s bringing her clothes, please put them in my room.”
“What?” I stiffen, alarm bells going off in my head.
Griffin pinches me to staunch my protest. “I’m showing Ava around.”
Yanking me down a corridor over classic black and white checkered floor tiles, Griffin brings me into an office with bookshelves on one side, and behind the desk is a wall of leaded window panels.
“ Your bedroom?”
“ You’re my fiancée.” He drills me with a look.
“Exactly. We’re not married. Shame on you. I thought you Irish were all God-fearing.”
Griffin laughs. “I’m right with my God, but thanks for looking out. I’m not giving anyone who’s working against the truce between our families a crumb of a chance to tear down this alliance.”
Griffin turns and shuts the office door. It closes with a clang that triggers me.
I drop to the ground and curl into a ball. “No. No, don’t hurt me.”