Chapter 6
Chapter Six
F redrick
Callum did his best to keep tabs on Freya, but his dedicated team would be stretched thin if they investigated every case she took. The Maclean clan made their request at the last minute, only after their lawyer pulled out.
Freya’s got Jack Maclean off. He’s a recently initiated member of the Hoax. Too recent for Freya to know about unless she investigated him thoroughly.
Rumors have begun swirling all over Scotland that the sibling power duo of Callum and Freya Burnes has split their allegiances. Falsehoods that Callum is still co-running the Kings with Cailean Baynes. Lies that Freya is now casting her lot with the lowlife of Glasgow, the Hoax.
The misinformation couldn’t be further from the truth .
Callum and Freya are as strong as ever, loyal only to the Kings. However, when Freya finds out about Callum’s hand in her future, there will be strain between the green-eyed siblings. But Callum says he’d “take her rage over her harm any day.”
He says the Burnes are quick to anger but forgive quickly.
Let’s hope that's true for the sake of their relationship. I’m in the Great Hall at Norse Garden to finalize the details of our agreement. The Viking of a man is waiting for me, a tray with a French press between us. The aroma of rich coffee made the correct way gives me a pang for home. I take a seat.
Callum fills my cup. “Thanks for coming as quickly as you could.”
We start with the smaller topics, and I tell him what my employees have heard.
I share the most essential information to begin with. “Tavish Wilson, the bartender at Level Z, remember him?”
He casts his mind back briefly before saying, “The good-looking one that all the bartenders work harder for. The one the younger female servers get distracted by?”
“That’s the one. We’ve had to monitor the waitresses’ times to pick up drinks for the customers in the VIP room and make them place their orders with all the bartenders equally, not just with Tavish.”
Callum lists off what he knows of Tavish. “Newer recruit, eager, loyal, moving up quickly.” His tone drops. “Lost a younger sister to the Hoax’s people-trafficking ring.”
“Hence his enthusiasm for our work. He’s an outstanding young man. And he is proving to be quick on his feet. He had some interesting news for me,” I say. “About Freya.”
“Pray tell.” He sighs, leaning his large frame back in his tall wooden chair. “Or don’t.” He drums his fingertips against the tabletop. “I’m worried sick about that girl. I don’t know how much more I can take.”
I press on, knowing he needs this information. “Tavish was working the bar Thursday night at Level Z. Around nine o’clock, Freya and a group of her female co-workers came into the club”—turning heads and drawing attention as beautiful, well-dressed women tend to do—“just after one of Jack Maclean’s mates. He goes by Ross Macdonald?—”
His thick brow furrows. “The one with the light blue eyes?”
“Yes.” I nod. “The same.”
He asks, “We’ve had surveillance on him for a while now, aye?”
I confirm. “Six months. Ever since we got word that he’d joined the Hoax.”
“Tavish saw Ross come in fifteen minutes before the girls. He served him a whisky and watched him plant himself at the end of the bar. Tavish said Ross’s eyes were constantly on the door as if he were waiting for someone. When the girls came in, Ross stood, grabbed his drink, and moved to the center of the bar.”
“To wait there for the girls, knowing they’d order drinks first,” Callum says.
“They always do.” The solicitors always order drinks within five minutes of entering my establishments. And my God, how they can hold their liquor. It’s impressive. “Ross was trying to get Freya’s attention at the bar. Freya paid him a moment of mind while Tavish decided how long he’d let it go on for.”
He does the classic Callum move—his hand smoothing over his beard to calm himself. “‘Course Freya was friendly-like with him. She’s never met a stranger; every man in the bar saw her talk to him. They had eyes on those women from the moment they walked in.”
“Right.” I share the conclusion I’d come to. “In the eyes of Glasgow, Freya got Jack Maclean off, went straight home to get all dolled up, then met the girls to celebrate the win?—”
He groans. “Freya out on the town, celebrating a win for the Hoax.”
“A win for the Hoax,” I agree.
Pain and frustration crack his typically stoic demeanor as he heaves a sigh.
Knowing he’ll need every upsetting detail, I continue. “Then we have Ross MacDonald coming in a bit before her as if he was waiting for her.”
“And Freya being Freya,” he fills in, “spoke to him for at least a few moments, I’m sure. The place was packed. Everyone saw the two of them together.”
“And that’s when Tavish decided that any information that could be gathered from their conversation wasn’t worth leaving Freya talking openly with a member of the Hoax for another moment. And escorted Ross from the bar,” I finish.
“I’m thankful for that,” he says. “Let’s bring Tavish closer into the circle.”
I nod. “I agree. And I’ve passed along your gratitude to him.”
“Thank you.” He runs his hand through his hair, leaving it mussed. Slamming a closed fist on the table, he says, “Damn, how I wish we could keep that trash out of our places altogether, but then we’d never get the information we need.”
But we both know the issue at hand tonight isn’t the Hoax. It’s Freya.
I sit quietly, sipping coffee, giving him time to process. Finally, he says, “She’s gone too far this time, Fredrick.”
My heart rate picks up, and my blood heats. What he will ask of me, I’m ready and willing for. “I’m here to help you in any way I can.”
His eyes meet mine. “You know what I need.”
I do. And I need the same.
“Callum.” I sit back in my chair. “You have to be sure. There is no going back with me. Ever.”
“That’s why I’ve chosen you. You know what forever means.” His gaze stays steady. “Have you prepared everything like I asked of you?”
I nod. “I have.”
“And you’re willing?”
“Of course I am.”
Relief comes over him, the tension in his broad shoulders easing. “Thank you, Fredrick. You truly have become a brother to me. I trust you with more than my own life. ”
I swallow back the lump in my throat. Loyalty to the Kings fulfilled me. Now, I have a deep need to protect Freya as well. “I consider it an honor.”
He has no idea how long I’ve been willing to enact his plan.
From the moment I saw her, I wanted her. Until now unable to give her anything other than cunnilingus, this is the only way I can have her without having to involve that sickly, terrifying thing I hate most in this world.
Love.
Luckily, Callum’s asked me nothing of that nonsense. He wants a protector, a defender who would put his sister’s life before their own. And as he said, he needs someone who knows the meaning of forever, which is one value I’ve taken from my staunch Catholic upbringing.
We rise to bid our farewells—what? Those heavy doors fly open just like All Hallows Eve after the party.
Freya comes striding in.
Callum and I stand there, bucks in headlights.
Her gaze goes from him to me. “Oh! You two cohorts again.”
Tension tightens in the air between the three of us. How much has she heard? I assure myself the doors are thick and solid. We kept our voices low.
Freya’s taste has become part of me, a fragrant melody that calls to me like a siren’s song. It’s been far too long since I’ve touched her. Standing in the same room with her and not being able to taste her is torture .
“I’ll leave you two to talk,” I say, unsure of how much Callum is willing to tell her. It’s not my place to inform her of our plan.
“No, stay. Let’s us three talk.” He walks around the table, joining Freya and me.
Freya stands with her arms at her sides, elegantly dressed in a sleeveless black shift, her hair contrasting as it falls down her back. Refusing to look my way. She wants me gone. “What would the three of us possibly have to discuss tonight?”
“There’s no easy way to say this,” Callum starts. “Freya, ye have to get away from Glasgow. It’s the safest thing for ye, ken?”
“No.” She shakes her head, aghast. Her long, loose hair swishes over her back. “I’m not leaving our Norse Garden. That would further the gossip, make people think I must be with the Hoax, that there is some fracture between the Burnes siblings, which couldn’t be further from the truth?—”
“Excuse me, my Lady,” I say. “I could cut the tension between the two of you with a butter knife.”
“Well, yes,” she concedes without acknowledging me, “we’re in a wee bit of a disagreement right now, sure,” she flips her long hair over her shoulder, “but nothing like me joining ANOTHER gang. The men of the Kings are just as much my brothers as they are yours, Callum. Don’t ye forget it.”
Callum stresses his point. “I know, Freya, and they look upon you like a sister just the same. Which is why Bayne and I agree?—”
She cuts him off, shouting, lava in her tone. “Haud yer wheesht, brother.”
“Freya,” I warn, pulling her back.
She still doesn’t look at me but lowers her voice. “I can’t believe you talked to Bayne about this. We can handle this on our own. You’ve no need to get the island involved.”
Callum raises his. “‘Course I have. It’s your life we’re talking about, Freya.”
“My…life?”
“Aye, your life,” he says more quietly.
“What do you mean, my life, Callum? Don’t tell me any of the islanders believe a word of this Hoax nonsense. That would kill me quicker than any thug.”
He strokes his beard. “No. God no. I hope…”
“You hope?” Her voice squeaks in disbelief.
“They’ve seen you at the court with Jack,” I say, helping Callum. “They’ve seen the man you talked to at the club.
“A man did talk to me at the club and tried to tell me something, but your men ushered him away.” She’s adamant. “He approached me. Not the other way around.” Her green eyes slowly turn to meet mine. “I’d like a word alone with my brother. Do you mind?”
“Actually,” I address Freya. “I’d like a word with you first.”
Callum gives me a knowing look; we’ve already had our discussion. He turns to leave the room, Freya calling after him. “Callum, wait! I have more I want to say to you.”
“Later, Freya. Walk with me, Fredrick.” Callum says.
I walk with him to the door of the Great Hall. As we part, he offers me a firm handshake. Our eyes lock. What we’ve agreed to is now set in stone and the handshake we’ve shared has set things in motion. He’s ready for me to tip the first domino.
The transfer of power has begun.
The door closes behind Callum. We’re alone. The room is silent. We stand only an arm’s length apart, but I won’t reach for her. She must close the space between us herself.
“Freya,” I say, every bit of heat from me pouring out of my gaze. “Come here.”
She crosses her arms over her chest with a haughty, “I am here.”
“Come,” I say. “To me.”
Warily, she eyes me. Finally, she offers, “Being alone in a room with you is dangerous enough. I’ll stay where I stand.”
Never breaking our gaze, I wait.
An internal battle rages inside her, one she’s quickly losing. Something shifts in her eyes, a flush rising on her face. And without a word, she slides over to me, closing the space between us.
I want to call her my good girl, to take her into my arms, smooth her silky hair down her back, and whisper sweet words to her.
I have so much to learn about her, her preferences, which touches will make her melt like butter in my hand. Instead, I think of something I’ve done once before and not been slapped, a touch she softened to.
I cup her face in my hand, her skin cool against mine. I stroke my thumb over her bottom lip. At my touch, her lashes flutter a touch, betraying her before she steels her gaze, saying, “Don’t touch me.”
She doesn’t pull away.
I want to laugh. I don’t. I drag my thumb down, her lip popping up, then resting it on the cup of her chin. I know she’s scared; recent events turned her life upside down. She’s not bitten me yet, so I take my chances, moving slowly as I did with a feral kitten I once saved from a storm drain. I slip my other hand along her face, sliding fingers through her silky hair and holding her.
I lean in, reassuring her. “Everything will be alright, Freya. They’ll come to their senses. They know your loyalty.”
Finally, she relents, breaks, and allows me to bring her closer as she rests her face on my chest, releasing a shaky sigh as she won’t allow herself to cry. Wrapping my arms around her, I hold her. “I can ease your mind,” I say. “I can make you feel better.”
“Nothing but clearing my name will make this better.”
I bring my mouth to her ear, whispering, “But I can make you feel better now . For a few moments at least.” Softly, I kiss her cheek. “Let me.”
She gives a soft moan. “No.”
“Yes.” The hand I have on her back trails down lower, resting on the scoop of her waist, pressing her lithe body hard against me. I know she feels my hardness, my desire for her pulsing against her.
“No.”
Strands of her hair stick to my mouth as I murmur, “Yes.” I nuzzle against the curve at the base of her neck. I run my fingers over her shoulder, pushing her hair back and exposing her pale skin. I brush my lips over the nape of her neck.
“No,” she moans; the soft sound of her pleasure makes me grow harder, and I pull her tighter into me. Her head arches back, giving me access to the sensitive area of her delicate skin.
I kiss her, sucking, nipping, leaving the first of my marks on her flawless skin. “Yes.” Many more will come as I explore every inch of her. I am a patient man; soon, she’ll be all mine. I’ll have a lifetime to discover her, and I’ll never tire of her taste.
I smooth down her side, over her stomach, brushing over her breast?—
She snatches up my hand, tearing it away from her breast. “No.”
I pause. This time, the no is different. The air in the room shifts. She won’t meet my eye, her flush growing more profound as she shifts her weight. Something with that touch wasn’t right. I need her to know she can trust me. With her mind, her body, her life.
I bring her hand to my lips, softly kissing her fingers. “I understand,” I say.
Needing to get her back to that relaxed, loose, sultry place of pleasure, I take her other hand in mine, so now I’m holding both of hers.
I guide her carefully, her taking backward steps until we’ve reached the nearest wall, resting her back against it. Firelight dances over her stunning face as she watches me, intrigued by me .
I lift her arms, holding them stretched out as I stare down at her, burying my eyes into hers. “You never have to explain yourself to me. But if I do anything, anything at all, that doesn’t feel good, feel right, you tell me. Tu comprends ? You understand?”
She gives a quick nod, looking away.
I press her wrists against the wall, pinning them in place above her head. I kiss her forehead, her right cheek, her left cheek. Her breath hitches, and her mouth tilts as if searching for mine, wanting to be kissed.
Not yet.
I’m saving our first kiss. For a time when she’s proven she fully trusts me.
Instead, I tease her with kisses down her neck, over her collarbone. I switch to one hand, circling her wrists, keeping her arms imprisoned against the wall. My now free hand trails down her belly. She quivers under my touch. I watch her face illuminated by light as her head lolls back, her chin tilting up to heaven as her eyes flutter closed. She’s exposed the smooth curve of her pale neck, and I move in, tasting the skin with the tip of my tongue.
I find the hem of her dress and sneak underneath, feeling the silky material of the black tights she wears underneath. I moan, my erection uncomfortable and tight against my trousers. I press it against one of her thighs as my fingers glide up the other, stroking the satin panties that hide under the tights.
I rub her gently at first, slowly, listening to her breathing and her moans, adjusting my touch and my pace to pleasure her. She shifts her weight, pressing her back against the wall. I want to kiss her, to taste her, but I can’t tear my gaze away from her face, watching the pleasure ease her worry, the way her beautiful pale arms stretch out above her as she moves.
So beautiful. So strong. I want her, need her. And I will have her.
I need another taste.
I struggle with the elastic of the waist of her tights, finally getting my fingers to her bare skin. “I want to feel how wet you are for me, princess.”
“Yes.” She pushes her hips forward, begging for my touch.
I finger her, moaning at her slickness. “Beautiful woman, so wet for me, so ready to come for me like you did in your bedroom with my tongue between your thighs.” Her soft skin is velvety beneath my fingers. I fill her with two fingers, stroking her, moving in and out of her, as I thumb her swollen clit.
“Yes. Yes.” Her back arches hard, her chin jutting high, her smooth voice quietly crying out, “Fredrick.”
“I love the way you say my name. I love the sound you make when you come.” I increase my pace, moving against her hips as they roll and buck against me, her body working with my hand to bring her to climax.
She comes hard against my hand, her muscles tightening around my fingers, her head flying forward as she bites back a scream, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.
I whisper against her ear, speaking to her in French, a language she doesn’t speak. What I say translates to, Soon I’ll have you all to myself, and I’ll make you scream as loud as you can, and I’ll never let you hold back .
She shudders, folding at the waist as well as she can, imprisoned by my hand as she is. I release her, and her arms fall to her sides as if she’s taking a bow at the finale to her climax. I pull my hand from her clothing, bringing my fingers to my mouth. I catch her eye, and she watches me, her gaze filling with shame, her cheeks flushed with desire as I slip my fingers into my mouth.
Sweet Freya honey. Drawing my fingers from my mouth, I lick my lips. “I’m addicted to your taste.”
“You’re…so…”
“What?”
“I don’t know,” she breathes. She shakes her head, pressing her hands against my chest to push me away. “But I want you gone. I need to talk to my brother. Leave me. Now. Go.”
“When you speak to him, remember, everything he asks of you is only out of his love for you.” I cup her face, letting her breathe in her own sweet scent. I lean in, pausing momentarily, my lips a beat away from hers, before placing a chaste kiss on her cheek.
I adjust my trousers and go to leave her.
She calls Callum’s name as she crosses the room. Callum passes by me, entering the room as I leave. He and I exchange a glance. I stand at the open doorway as he meets her at the table.
There’s silence between them. I pull the door closed behind me. The conversation starts smoothly, their voices low and murmuring through the door. I grin to myself, proud that I was the one who could tame Freya Burnes .
A moment later, they lay into one another. La veche! The Burnes do burn as hot as the islanders say.
Taming will take time, like breaking a wild horse, though I’d never want to change her. Only have her soften toward me. With a newfound purpose in my gait, I stride down the hall, the echoes of Callum and Freya arguing behind me.
Soon, I’ll have all the time in the world. The handshake between Callum and me solidified that fact. Freya now belongs to me. I’ll leave nothing to chance. I’ll place the diamond crown on her head, ensuring Freya becomes the powerful Mafia wife I know she was born to be.
I know she won’t come willingly. For now, at least, she’ll be ma femme mafieuse captive.
My captive Mafia wife.