Chapter Seventeen #2
Photos of Kaden line the wall, him in uniform, black hair shaved tighter than now, shorter on top. His piercing green eyes stare from the distance. There are medals and a diploma.
His office is similar to Flynn’s with a big desk, computer, archives, but Kaden has a wall full of screens showing the entire estate. Cameras in the halls, kitchen, living room.
“Well. There’s literally no privacy in this place, is there?” I eye the monitors.
“The bathrooms and bedrooms don’t have cameras.” He looks at me, and I try not to show the thought that just hit me.
“But they will if someone fucks up,” he warns.
I grin. Of course.
He turns on the computer, and I sit across from him.
“So, how old are you?” I try to sound casual, but I’m just nosy.
“Same as Flynn.” He types without looking up. “Thirty-six.”
Thirty-six? I thought Flynn was younger. That means Declan’s the same age too. Kian and Connor must be younger.
“Do you want my zodiac too?” Kaden asks, one brow raised.
“Yes, please.” I smile wide.
He lets out a real laugh this time. “Christ, Autumn.” He turns the screen so I can see. “What do you need?”
I just stare.
“What?” he says.
“Your zodiac.” I shrug.
“Bloody hell.” He shakes his head but keeps smiling. “Libra. And Flynn’s a Scorpio.”
“That explains a lot,” I murmur.
Kaden exhales like he’s regretting even starting the conversation. “Autumn, focus, darling. What do you need?”
I finally glance at the screen. Some type of clothing site, but I don’t recognise the brand.
“Jeans, some sweaters, a couple skirts…” I trail off, trying not to mention underwear.
He starts clicking. Items pop up fast. I frown and then see the prices.
“Fuck me.” The words slip out. I slap a hand over my mouth.
Kaden blinks. “What?” He looks at me, then at the screen.
“A sweater is four hundred?” I shake my head. “And it’s ugly!”
“Fucking hell.” He gets up. I stare as he reaches into the drawer.
“Sit. Choose whatever damn site you want, and—” He drops a black card on the desk, Flynn’s name etched in gold. “Pay for it with this. When you’re done, bring it back to me in the living room.”
“You’re just going to leave me alone in your office?” I grin.
The corner of his mouth curls. He points up at the ceiling.
Two cameras. Red lights glowing.
“Flynn’s watching you, darling. And so will I.”
He walks out without another word.
I glance at the cameras. Then at the screen.
From this angle, they can’t see what I’m looking at.
I wonder if Flynn will check what I buy. I bite my lip; I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. He did kidnap me, edged me. It’s the least I can do.
My fingers fly across the keyboard, checking off everything I need.
I wonder if Flynn brought my computer too, maybe even the small pile of clothes I’d managed to grab that morning before the world tilted sideways.
My style isn’t expensive. Definitely not four-hundred-euro-sweater expensive. I like simple. Earthy.
Jeans, big fluffy wool sweaters, soft things in warm tones. My underwear’s simple too, barely-there lace and cotton, not the kind men rip off in movies.
I order shampoo, conditioner, some creams, basically everything I need to survive here until someone catches my stalker, and I add a little surprise, something for Flynn.
I’m about to close the tab when curiosity slithers in, warm and sharp.
Irish Mafia.
I type it fast, and the screen floods with articles from all over the world. Arrests, gang wars, whispers of crime empires, but nothing with the names Brady or Callaghan.
There’s a blog post from a girl complaining about the clubs in this city being run by hot, armed men.
She’s not wrong.
I exhale.
If there was real evidence, if any of it were traceable, they wouldn’t be living in a mansion with private gates and designer whisky.
They’d be rotting behind bars.
I close the computer, glance up at the cameras, and wave.
Then I walk back through the hallway toward the living room. Kaden’s still seated where I left him, casual like a tiger sunning itself on concrete. I set the black card down in front of him.
“Do you live here too?” I ask.
He nods once, no elaboration.
I head upstairs to my room.
Most of the stuff will arrive tomorrow. A few items the day after.
So… now what?
It’s almost dinner time, and Flynn said there were rules. One of them being dinner at the table.
I wonder what happens if I don’t show up.
Heat curls low in my spine at the thought.
Flynn’s not what I expected. He’s bossy, dominant, and there’s something else. The way his pupils dilated when I winced from the bite.
He liked it.
My fingers reach for the phone before I even realise it.
I search:
man gets off on control… biting… chasing…
Control kink
Primal kink
I tap the links.
Forums light up. Articles. Posts. Discussions.
Chasing. Fighting. Biting. Scratching.
My nails tap against the phone as I scroll.
I keep reading: “Orgasm control.”
Oh.
“Is obsessed, possessive. Enjoys praising when the submissive obeys.”
It makes sense that he’s into this. The question is, am I?
I’m still staring at the screen when a voice breaks through the door.
“Autumn.”
I jump, clutching the phone. Kaden.
He cracks the door open. “Dinner in twenty minutes. Don’t be late.”
“Yes, Sir.” I roll my eyes.
He closes the door, and I catch the flicker of amusement on his face before it disappears.
At least Kaden has a sense of humour.
Flynn… I’m still not sure.
I’ll test that tonight.
Exactly twenty minutes later, I find my way to the dining room, after getting lost four times. The place is a maze, but I make it.
They’re already there, standing, not seated. Talking, both are still in suit pants. Black button-ups, no jackets, and the sleeves rolled to their elbows, they carry themselves like Dobermans ready to strike.
Oh my… Shit, I need a drink.
Flynn turns the second I walk in, whisky in hand.
He walks toward my chair and waits; when I reach him, he pulls the chair out, and I sit down.
“Good girl.” He whispers.
I blink.
I’m going to stab him with a spoon.
An older woman walks in with a tray, and the scent of roast fills the room. My mouth waters instantly.
She places it in the centre, and Kaden stands, picking up the knife to carve.
“You’re good with a knife,” I murmur, watching the perfect slices fall away.
I wonder if he’s ever cut up a human bod—
Oh my God.
What the hell is wrong with me?
He serves me first, then Flynn. Roasted meat, golden potatoes, vegetables.
I take a bite, and my eyes close.
God, I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal that tasted like this.
When I open them again, they’re both staring at me.
Flynn, especially.
There’s something in his eyes, something feral, restrained. Like he’s holding something back.
“So,” I say, slicing through the tension like a butter knife, “you two live here… together?”
I emphasise the last word just enough. Kaden looks up from his plate, straight at me.
“Autumn,” Flynn warns.
I just keep eating, chewing, like I said nothing scandalous.
“What? Even Mafia men are allowed to date men, right?” I try to sound sweet, innocent.
“For fuck’s sake,” Kaden mutters, but Flynn… he doesn’t move.
He keeps staring at me, and when he finally speaks, it’s sharp enough to cut through bone.
“It’s allowed,” he says coolly, “but I think when I fucked you, I made my type pretty fucking clear.”
The words hit hard. I choke, eyes watering as my throat decides to betray me.
He smirks and starts eating like he didn’t just detonate a nuke between us.
“Well—” I clear my throat, forcing air through the meat trying to kill me, “you can still be bisexual, right?”
Kaden chuckles low, and Flynn just shakes his head, returning to his plate.
“Just eat, Autumn.” He grunts it out.
I exhale dramatically. “Would’ve been hot seeing you two—”
“Autumn.”
Flynn’s voice slices in.
I laugh. The look on his face is priceless: tight jaw, flared nostrils, barely contained rage.
Perfect.
“Fine, fine.” I lift my hands in surrender and keep eating, eyes on my plate, but when I glance up, Kaden’s still smirking. Watching Flynn.
He knows I just pissed Brady off, and honestly? That makes my night.
“So, now seriously,” I say, twisting a potato on my fork, “you live here, right?”
“To keep an eye on Flynn, yeah,” Kaden replies. “When he’s at the penthouse, I’ve got my own place.”
I turn to Flynn.
“Do you like living here?”
He meets my eyes.
“Not really,” he says, voice quieter. “But it’s safer.”
His green eyes flicker like emeralds under firelight. My gaze drifts to the tattoos on his forearms.
I wonder if he has more. On his chest… his back…
No. Stop.
I can’t be thinking this.
He kidnapped me.
I keep reminding myself, but Flynn has never looked dangerous to me; then again, neither did Declan, and he’s the head of the Irish Mafia.
“Irish Mafia.” I say it aloud, testing the weight of the words.
Both men stop eating.
“The docks. The offices. The clubs,” I go on, voice softer. “Is it all fake? Are the businesses in Declan’s name?”
Flynn watches me a moment before resting his forearms on the table.
“The clubs are real businesses. The docks, half of its legal imports and exports. The rest… let’s say isn’t.”
He pauses, eyes steady on mine.
“All the businesses, besides the clubs, are under the Irish Consortium. Four families. Declan’s the majority shareholder. That makes him the legal owner and the leader.”
I blink.
This is real, organised and structured, just like the movies.
“So… do you cut off horse heads and leave them in beds?”
Kaden chokes on his wine.
Flynn actually laughs, and it’s deep and real. His shoulders tighten with it, muscles flexing under the sleeves of his shirt. He drops his head, rubs a hand down his face.
“No, trouble,” he says, voice darker now, lower.
His gaze lifts, and there’s nothing playful left. “Animals aren’t the ones we cut heads off.”
I swallow, and my heart taps a little harder.
Kaden’s phone rings, and he gets up to answer, already frowning.
“Got everything you need?” Flynn asks, eyes returning to me.
“Like you didn’t check.” I grin, poking the beast.
“I didn’t.” He leans back, takes another sip of wine, but he’s watching Kaden now, not me.
“What if I spent all your money?” I raise my brows, teasing. “Blew through it in a single click?”
Flynn smirks.
“Oh, trouble…” he murmurs, voice lazy, edged with pride, “you’d have to buy this entire estate and the ones around it for that to happen.”
My mouth drops open.
Wait… is he serious?
Before I can ask, Kaden returns. “We need to go, Flynn.”
Flynn nods, rising smoothly. He rolls his sleeves down, slow, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve seen. That calm before the storm kind of movement.
“Is everything okay?” I stand too, a chill brushing over my skin.
Flynn steps closer. His finger lifts to my chin. “Some heads need to be cut,” he says softly, a hint of amusement in his tone, but something in his eyes tells me he isn’t joking.
“Don’t leave the house,” he adds. “Stay inside. Got it?”
I nod, and they leave.
The house feels too quiet, even with the guards stationed outside.
I know there are cameras everywhere. I know I’m being watched, and still, for some fucked-up reason, I felt safer when Flynn was here.
Now?
Now I just want to curl up in bed and pretend I’m not obsessively thinking about that last touch of his finger on my chin.
Tomorrow, the orders will arrive, and Flynn didn’t check what I bought.
I bite my lip.
Can’t wait.