44. CHAPTER FORTY
Iwalk to the restaurant where my car is parked, my hand linked with Eoghan O’Rourke. Mob lawyer and dirty-talker extraordinaire.
He strides along like he’s got the world by the balls. He certainly has me by the balls. If I had any.
I don’t know if I love it or hate it.
“I have a valet ticket.” I dig through my bag.
Shaking his head, he steers me to the booth. “Give me the ticket.”
I hand it to him, not knowing what he’ll do.
Waving it to the attendant, Eoghan says, “Give me the keys for this car. I get it, not you.”
What I think will turn into World War III ends with the attendant shrugging and the keys handed over after I nod. Mafia bosses crawl all over this city. Eoghan sports the tell-tale signs of a made guy. These attendants won’t risk their lives crossing him when they’re only making minimum wage.
They don’t give a damn or more importantly, don’t want any enemies, especially not an unrepentant killer. Heck, some may want a job and will do special favors.
With our hands still linked, Eoghan heads into the parking lot.
Passing a few rows, I say, “How do you know where my car is?”
He stops abruptly and stares at me. His deep blue eyes, with full dark lashes no man has business having, blink. He lifts the key fob and presses the button.
My horn beeps, and I relax.
“Found it,” he chides, sarcastically.
“Where’s your car?”
“Across the street.”
“I’ll drive you to it.”
“No. I’m driving you in your car.”
“I had one glass of wine.”
At my car, he opens the passenger door. “What did I tell you that first night? I open the doors. I take care of you.”
“Right.” Before I put my butt into the seat, two hands grab my ass.
“You need to start taking me seriously.” He lets go but lays a tiny whack across my bottom.
I spin around. “Did you just spank me?”
“Depends, did you like it?”
Shaking my head, I get inside.
“If that’s a no, I don’t believe you.” Eoghan closes my door and struts to the other side.
The way he climbs into the driver’s seat, a wicked and wild déjà vu hits me.
Shaking that away, I turn to check the backseat and wonder if there’s any trace that I was back there waiting for a man to fuck me. Only, Johnny dragged me out by my dress and pushed me down into the dirt… I have to stop.
Eoghan would lose his shit. I brace for his accusations while I concoct a lie.
He doesn’t even look in the backseat. I sniff and don’t notice any other detectable scents other than his cologne. Come to think of it, Johnny didn’t wear cologne. I just smelled soap.
A rich aroma of something very light and fresh.
I rub my hands on my skirt, when I ask, “We’re really going to your villa?”
“Aye,” he answers, and he squeezes my thigh.
“And how will you get your car?”
He glances at me with a frown. “You think I’ll have trouble getting a mile from the villa?”
“Just looking out for you.”
“Don’t.” He squeezes harder, his fingers reaching the hem. “I look out for you.”
We park in his garage with barely a wave to the attendant. He takes the spot next to the one I’d been parking in. His spot.
“You open that door, we’re gonna have a problem, Jillian.” He uses my actual name and not the biting, cutesy nickname. Damn, hearing him say Jillian turns me on.
“Habit.” I release the handle.
Eoghan gets out and opens my door. He reaches down and I take his hand, deepening the gesture. With that hand now on the small of my back, he walks me to the elevator.
He looks around, as I’m guessing any mafia man would, given all their enemies.
And here I am, on one of their arms like a sitting duck.