Chapter Three
Flynn
I stare at the mirror. Thankfully the fucker from last night didn’t leave a mark on my face. Not that Autumn would have the courage to ask why I had a bruise.
Fuck.
Why am I worried about that? I lean on the sink, gripping the marble so hard my knuckles go white. Today I just need to relax, ignore her, shove the urges back and let her take the pictures and go. That’s all.
The black suit fits perfectly, as always.
I walk down the hallway into the kitchen, and Kaden is already there. He stays with me most nights. He owns an apartment two floors below and a wooden cabin outside the city that he barely uses.
“Morning, boss.” He smirks, sipping his coffee.
“Morning.” I grab a cup and fill it to the brim. “Don’t, Kaden.” I warn him.
“Didn’t say anything.” His tone tells me everything; he’s enjoying this. Declan knows, and his brothers do too, but they don’t know how deep this little fucking obsession over the photographer runs. Kaden knows. He knows too much.
“We let them all in, then head to the office. I need to take care of some stuff.” I say it like a prayer, trying to persuade my dick that she is not to be touched.
“No problem, but I can keep an eye on them—” He puts his cup in the sink and turns with a grin. “On Miss Autumn.”
Motherfucker.
“Kaden.” It comes out low, laced with a threat. “Just let her do her job and we do ours.”
He nods and heads out. Before the club we’re having lunch with John Flanaghan to go through plans for the new warehouse.
Kaden drives us to the restaurant, and the waitress seats us at our table, always the same one, placed at the far wall facing the front and back doors.
No one comes or goes without one of us seeing.
Kaden stands until I sit. I fucking hate that, but he says it shows people who’s boss and who’s there to break bones. Fair enough.
“Brady.” John nods and we sit. His right-hand man is a young guy, around twenty-eight, keeps his mouth shut, avoids eye contact. I like him.
“John, Doyle.” We both exchange nods, and John sighs.
“I heard you took care of the problem.” He sips red wine while I wait for my Guinness. Kaden orders sparkling water, as always. He likes to pretend a soft drink makes him less lethal. It doesn’t.
“We did.” I grin, catching John’s eye over the glass.
“We?” The vein in his neck flares.
“Declan was there, his brothers too.” I lean back, a finger hovering over the glass. “Nothing happens without them, you know that.” I turn to Doyle. “Lesson one: the Callaghans run the Consortium. No one else.”
Doyle nods. John shifts, uncomfortable. He thinks Declan is still pissed about Viviana last year, but the truth is Declan did what he had to. Nolan was another story. Declan wanted to kick the hell out of him, but Nolan died before that, so—
“There’s a gathering tomorrow. You’re going, right?” John asks as the food arrives. The stew smells like the only thing worth the trip.
“What gathering?” I shrug, fork already swirling in the sauce.
“Shit, Flynn.” He shakes his head in mock disapproval. He’s only a few years older than Declan and me but acts like an old father. “The gala to raise money for the new school library.”
I look at Kaden. He raises an eyebrow. “Not going. I’ll send a cheque.”
“For fuck’s sake, mate, it’s at the old Keeffe mansion. Everyone’s going to be there. Declan can’t come, but at least you need to be there.” John leans back, arms crossed, trying to bully me into it.
“Not. Fucking. Going.” I let out a breath and start to eat.
The conversation drifts back to the gala, the usual posturing. I hate those things. A waste of time. The Callaghans aren’t going, so I know I should, but I’d rather drink bleach, honestly.
“That was a waste of time.” Kaden sighs as we get into the black SUV. My pulse kicks harder. I haven’t seen her since Declan went on his honeymoon. I thought I’d shaken her out of my system, but apparently not.
Kaden parks outside the club. At the door stands a tall, skinny man with two statuesque women.
“Good afternoon.” I shake his hand. “Flynn.”
“Mackellan.” He smiles, giving me a once-over. Relief slides through me. He’s more interested in me than in her. Good. One less body to make disappear.
“Mister Brady.” Her voice. Christ. It runs down my spine, rough and sweet at once. Mister.
“Autumn.” I face her as she steps in front of the models. Short, curvy, cheeks already pink. “You can call me Flynn, you know?” I grin. Her blush deepens, flooding her face crimson, and my cock jerks against the fabric of my trousers.
Down, motherfucker. Behave.
“Of course.” She murmurs. Kaden strides past, opening the door. He waves them inside. Autumn comes last. My hand hovers at the small of her back, close enough to feel her warmth. I want to grab her, drag her against me, breathe her in.
I’m losing my fucking mind.
“You can use every inch of the club except for my office.” My voice sounds steadier than I feel.
“Thank you, Flynn.” She chirps, hurrying down the stairs towards the couches.
The makeup artist sets up her kit on a tall table, already calling a model over. Autumn and Mackellan stand near one of the steel bars, heads bent together.
“Flynn, haven’t seen you in a while.” A voice whispers behind me.
“Alexia.”
She smiles, trailing her finger down the collar of my suit jacket. “I missed you.”
We fucked months ago. She left for Paris. I didn’t care enough to notice.
Kaden clears his throat. I glance at him, then follow his eyes down to the floor. Autumn is watching us; her eyes go from me to Alexia, and it’s the way she looks down and moves along that twists sharply in my chest. I step back and peel Alexia’s hand from me.
“Don’t mistake our orgasm for more than it was.” I drop her hand. She gasps, offended. “You’re here to work.” I nod at Kaden and head to my office.
“That was harsh.” He chuckles, dropping onto the couch. I turn on the video wall, every camera trained on her.
“She wanted more. I don’t do more.” My voice is flat.
He hums, low. “Is that the truth, or did you just not want Autumn thinking you had something with a model?”
I don’t answer. My fists tighten at my sides as I watch her. She moves around the set, placing bottles and glasses by the couch, as she shrugs off her jacket. Black jeans, trainers, a brown blouse slipping off one shoulder. Her hair’s knotted in a bun, glasses sliding down her nose.
The model leans into the couch. Autumn shakes her head. They try again. Still not right. She sets her camera down, steps forward, and bends to demonstrate with her arse up, legs apart, head thrown back.
I lean into the monitor, breath rough, jaw clenched. My whole body throbs.
“You’re staring.” Kaden smirks. “You’ll be drooling any second now.”
“Fucking hell, Kaden.” I stand and start pacing. He’s right, I am almost drooling, and this is stupid. I kill men with my bare hands, and I’m here looking at a screen like a fucking teenager.
My computer dings with a notification, an email from Declan, and it’s the perfect excuse to just take my mind off that woman.
“They are done.” Kaden tells me, and I take a long breath before I stand.
I shrug off my jacket and roll my sleeves up, feeling the cloth slide over the muscles in my forearms. My hands are steady when I hold the paperwork for the next shipment from Portugal, but my pulse is still racing under my skin.
Her voice floats up from downstairs as the makeup artist packs away and the models leave through the back exit, where one of my bouncers waits. Autumn climbs the stairs, like a small sun in a room full of shadows, her signature innocent smile brightening everything.
“The pictures turned out amazing.” Her excitement is honest. “Do you want to see some of them?”
I stare, and she goes a deeper red. “Never mind, sorry, you’re busy.” She fumbles for her camera.
Without thinking, I reach and grip her arm. She gasps and turns. I step in, not letting go. She doesn’t pull away. Heat runs up my palm at the feel of her skin.
“Show me.” I bend close, my breath ghosting across her shoulder. Her fingers tremble as she turns the camera on and flicks through the images, one by one. Viviana was right; she is good.
She talks about the angles, each pose, her voice warm and a little shaky. “Sorry, I’m babbling.”
“You’re not. You have talent, and I like to hear you talk.” It comes out rougher than I intend; the truth tastes like iron in my mouth.
Kaden moves closer. “Hi.” She nods to him, and he returns a crooked smile with a small tilt of his head.
“Flanaghan called. He’s still asking you to go tomorrow.” He hands me the phone; I stuff it in my pocket.
“The fundraiser for the library?” Autumn asks, rummaging in her bag. Her fingers find the car key, and she exhales a triumphant little sound. She bites her bottom lip when she sees it. The small, sincere amusement in her voice is different from the city’s usual cynicism.
“I offered to take some photos for the school website.” She drops her bag and pats her jacket into place. “Are you going?”
“Yes.” The word slips out quicker than I expect. My chest clenches.
Kaden whistles and heads for the door. I will never hear the end of it. That’s for sure.
“I’ll see you there tomorrow then.” She walks beside me to the door.
The air outside is cold; rain begins to thread down in quiet sheets.
She breathes in, eyes closed, and I cannot stop looking.
Her head barely reaches my chest; the freckles at her collarbone are pale and perfect. A tiny mark lives under her jaw.
I could break her in two. I could ruin her. The thought tastes dangerous and sweet, but she doesn’t belong to this world, and I am not dragging someone innocent into it.
“The rain is so peaceful, isn’t it?” she says, tilting her chin up to meet my gaze. Her voice is like warm sugar.
“Yes, it is.” I nod and point to her car. She blushes again.
“Thanks.” She turns and walks away.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Autumn.” My voice drops low; there is a threat in it without trying.
She turns and waves, smiling, smoothing her jacket twice as her fingers fumble on the car key before she gets a firm grip.
A strand of hair slips loose, and she tucks it behind her ear, shoulders lifting against the rain.
“She has no idea what she’s doing, does she?” Kaden whispers behind me. I smirk, feeling the animal inside me lean forward.
“No, she doesn’t.” That ignorance is intoxicating. I promised I won’t touch her, but that does not mean I can’t have some fun. John wanted me there anyway, and now I have the perfect excuse to go.
The ride home is quiet, just the low hum of the engine and Declan’s voice on the phone about the Irish Consortium gala. Only members and their families are invited. Miss it, and it’ll be your last gala ever.
“Any plus one for you?” I ask as Kaden navigates through the choked city streets.
“No.” His tone is clipped, jaw locked. His eyes keep flicking to the rearview.
“What?” I follow his gaze. An Audi with tinted windows hugs our bumper too tight, too long. My shoulders tense. My hand slides to the knife at my hip, thumb pressing against the hilt. “Problem?”
“Not sure yet.” His voice is a low rumble. He doesn’t speed up, doesn’t slow, just holds steady. Testing them.
The Audi sticks. My pulse thickens, steady and mean. The air inside the SUV turns heavy. I can almost feel the other driver breathing down our necks.
Kaden suddenly taps the brakes, the SUV jerking forward. The Audi hesitates, closing the gap. Wrong move.
At the next intersection, Kaden slams the accelerator and yanks the wheel left. Tyres scream on wet asphalt. The Audi jolts, skidding. For a split second its grille fills the rear window. Then its brakes lock hard. Rubber burns the air. It doesn’t follow.
We barrel down the side street, both of us watching the mirrors, waiting for headlights to reappear. Nothing. Just the dark, rain-slick streets swallowing everything behind us.
Kaden exhales, but his knuckles stay white on the wheel.
“Should we call the Callaghans?” he asks.
“Nothing happened,” I say, voice flat. “Just put more eyes on the blocks around the penthouse.” My jaw grinds tight. Whoever that was, they knew enough to pull back. They’ll be smarter next time.
When the elevator dings and the doors open, the tension hasn’t left my shoulders. Kaden goes straight to the bar, pours whisky with hands still too tight. He plants himself on the couch, pulls up the building’s feeds on the big screen.
“Easy, Kaden. We’re fine. No alarms, nothing.” I drop onto the opposite couch, rolling my neck. Muscles still coiled, heart still pacing like I never left the street.
“You hired me so no one surprises us. This is how I make sure.” His eyes don’t leave the screens, voice hard.
He’s right. He’s been with me since high school, after he joined the army, but we never lost contact. Once the army sent him off, I reached out. I knew he needed work. Since then we’ve become inseparable. He has become like a brother.
“Are you really going to the charity event?” he finally asks, leaning back, whisky glowing amber in his hand.
“Of course.”
“Because of her.” A grin finally cuts across his face.
“Definitely.” My smirk is sharp.
I’d never step foot in a place like that on my own. But she’ll be there. And I’ll sit through the whole charade just to watch her blush when she catches me looking.