59. CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Sensing Jillian unraveling, I take over. I’m a legal and financial fixer for my family. Not a handler. But this human touch she needs comes so naturally to me.
Or maybe because it’s her. Maybe I’ve developed real feelings for this woman and didn’t realize it.
I’m ignoring my duties back home, and I’ve not set the record straight with Borgia’s underboss, Lazaro Scava, yet.
I’ve been fucking distracted.
Vance’s threats have no teeth. I can go to the Borgia underboss with what I know, and Vance will be in the morgue in less than twenty-four-hours with a toe tag.
I breathe a sigh of relief that he’s the attorney on record for the case and not Jillian.
We get on the jet I rented and the captain tells us we’re cleared for take-off.
Jillian wanders down the center row on unsteady feet. I hand her suitcase and my duffle bag to the captain who stores them near the cockpit.
I steer her to a set of leather tufted chairs and she falls into one, her hands caressing the armrests. “This is nice.”
I take the seat next to her. “Would be nicer if you were naked and riding me the entire flight.”
“It’s only an hour.” She quips.
“I can do a lot of damage to you in an hour, sparkles.” I wink and click my seatbelt.
Upon closer examination, her seatbelt isn’t fastened.
“Sparkles, your seatbelt.” I unbuckle myself and reach for her strap, which is wedged under her arse. “Lift that gorgeous behind for me.”
Her eyes fly to mine and when I smirk, she pivots her hips and the warmth from her arse turns my cock to steel. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me. Ever.” I pull the buckle forward, but the belt is too short to go around her.
My woman is thick, solid, full of life. Fuuuck.
“These damn seatbelts never fit my body.” She adjusts the strap extender to make it longer.
“Your body fits me.” I hold her face. “Every fucking inch of it fits me.”
She bats her eyes at me, her chest rising again. “Really?”
I would usually snap at anyone questioning my word, a pet peeve of mine. But that urge is absent when it comes to her. This woman.
My woman.
You’re not obsessed. You’re in love.
Balor’s words tighten my throat.
Instead of fighting it, I have a burning desire to lean into this.
“Absa-fucking-lutely.” I kiss her forehead and then settle into the seat next to her.
Holding her hand, we lift off. She squeezes it for a few minutes as the plane levels off.
I waved the need for an attendant when I ordered the plane, because for a fleeting moment, I saw myself with my pants around the ankles fucking Jillian the entire flight.
Seeing how upset she is, I wouldn’t dare.
“Drink?” I ask.
“It’s eleven a.m.,” she says softly. “I can’t show up at the hospital—”
“I meant water, or juice.” I unbuckle and swagger toward the cabin pantry, feeling her eyes on me.
My arse twitches from her burning stare. I’ll use my body to make her fall for me. I’ll use my cock to pacify her carnal desires. I’ll use my power to make her mine.
It hits me, and it’s soothing to not fight how I feel.
She is mine. And those are no longer empty, possessive words.
She’s coming back to Astoria with me one way or another. Because I know deep inside, she wants me as much as I want her. She can’t see the path her life needs to take to have it all.
But I do.
In the pantry’s steel refrigerator, I take out one can of club soda and one can of ginger ale.
I return with three cups, one filled with ice and motion for her to sit at the table closer to the back of the plane.
Smiling, she joins me. “Was this expensive?”
“Aye,” I answer, thickening my accent because I know she loves it.
“I don’t know how to thank you.” She accepts a cup from me.
“I do.”
She laughs. “I know how you want to be paid.”
Pouring ginger ale into a cup, I lean forward and say, “That benefits us both, sparkles.”
“My mom’s house has two guest bedrooms,” she says.
“Nice. But I’m not sleeping in one.” I pour club soda into the second cup, eyes on her.
Exhaling and blushing, she says, “Eoghan, my mother—”
“I just want to hold you at night.” I put down the soda can and stroke her cheek. “Comfort you. If my hard cock rubbing your arse turns you on and you want to ride my dick, I won’t deny you.”
“Why me?” She levels a stare at me. “I’m not mafia girlfriend material. I’m a prosecutor, for crying out loud.”
Given my brothers’ records with wives, the odds are in my favor that I can convince Jillian I’m the right man for her.
“I’m not looking for a girlfriend,” I say, sipping the club soda, dying to add some vodka to it, but out of respect for Jillian, I don’t.
Before I can clarify, she cuts me off.
“I misspoke,” she says, laughing. “You want to make me your whore.”
I slam my cup down. “I would kill anyone who calls my woman a whore. You…get a pass. But for five seconds. I don’t want a whore. And no woman who we take to wife is ever treated that way.”
“Wife? I’m confused. What are you saying?”
She’s stressed over her mother, so I change gears. “Nothing. Tell me about your ma. How is it you and Daniel share her?”
Her face curves into a brief smile, relieved to not have to address our dilemma.
“Daniel was from Mom’s first marriage.” She gives me a smile. “My dad was a lawyer. And well, she was his client.”
The Diamonds are no stranger to scandals. It’s in her blood, too. Falling for forbidden men.
“What did she need a lawyer for?”
“To get a divorce.”
I sit up, and all this time, I thought Daniel’s father was dead. We don’t do divorces in our family. Darragh is the exception, but he always did his own thing.
“Do you know why she got divorced?” I ask.
“Marital abuse,” she says softly.
Anger fills my veins at any man who would raise his hands to a woman. Sadly, the cycle of abuse often continues, and I have to consider if my Jillian lived in a violent household. And how much extra love I’ll have to show her.
Shite… I fucking love this woman.
“And what about your dad?” I ask to get out of my head. “Did he ever—”
“Never,” she answers quickly, eyeing me with beady slits.
“And your dad passed?”
“Five years ago. Pancreatic cancer.”
“I’m sorry.” I clear my throat. “Did you have a happy childhood, sparkles?”
“I did. I know that’s boring.” She waves her hands. “People love drama. You of all people should know how boring lawyers can be.”
I roar with laughter. “I am not boring, and you certainly are not boring.”
Any woman wanting to be throat fucked…
I clear my throat and only now see what I did to her sucks.
“I was a virgin until a certain someone took it from me.” She smiles this time, and I realize it’s been four weeks. “I live vicariously through my books. I have one friend, and I’m on a quest to take down the Borgias.”
“Right there.” I point. “Boring, no. Stupid and suicidal, yes.”
“Stupid?” She raises her arms and sends the ginger ale spilling into her lap. Unsnapping her belt, she jumps up. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
“That’s why the seats are leather.”
She shakes out her top, which is drenched. “You were so nice to pick out a drink to calm my stomach.”
We stare at each other for a moment, and something clicks into place. We’re on the same page.
“There’s more soda.” I stand to my full height. “You need to change that top.”
Jillian glances around. “I need my suitcase.”
“I’ll get it.”
I walk to the front of the plane, grab it, and walk back.
I step aside and let her open it. Spotting a dark blue sweatshirt, I reach in and smile, reading the bold message across the front.
YOU ARE SO LOVED
“Wear this.” I pull it out.
“Now you’re telling me what to wear?”
“I want you to be comfortable.”
“I’m on a private jet, I’m not going to wear sweats.”
“I’d rather you be naked.”
Sighing, she says, “Since I didn’t bring another blouse, I guess you win.” She takes the sweatshirt and reads it. “Why this one?”
“No comment.”
I lead her to the bathroom. “Here.”
When the door clicks shut behind her, my eyes drop to the open suitcase. Inside, the sealed canvas bag of evidence documents sticks out. I’m tempted to just cut the thing open. What I’ve gotten to know about Jillian is that she’s dedicated and nearly as obsessed about her work, as I am about her.
“We’re on approach. Please take your seats,” the captain announces over the loudspeaker.
I ball her wet blouse and put it in the suitcase along with the canvas bag, close it, and store them in the front hold again. With heavy steps, I get to the bathroom.
“Time to get in our seats,” I say, pushing the door handle.
It isn’t locked.
When it pops open, she’s there, topless.
Our eyes meet in the mirror. My cock thickens to the point of pain. She doesn’t scream or cover herself. She allows me to feast my eyes on her tits.
They’re full and round, curved with nipples pointing up. I’d been so hurried with other parts of her body, I’ve missed these bouncy wonders.
“We need to buckle in.” I jolt, when we hit an air pocket. Snatching the sweatshirt, I say, “Hands up.”
When she does, I slide the sweatshirt down, copping a feel as I go. Her nipples pebble under my touch.
“Fuck me.” I take them in my hand, the sweatshirt resting on them. My thumbs brush each hardened nub.
“That feels really nice,” she whispers, her eyes closed.
Is she thinking about Johnny?
“Eyes on me, sparkles.”
“Can’t help it. You have a magic touch, Eoghan.” She pronounces my name with a lilt, unlike any woman ever called out to me.
“Say that again. I liked it,” I growl into her ear.
“Eoghan,” she breathes, and I take her mouth.
This isn’t my brother’s plane. As soon as we land, an operations manager will board us to inspect the plane and make us leave. Even if I’m balls-deep.
“I’m gonna fuck you so good later,” I whisper as I wait for her reaction.
Blushing with glassy eyes, she says, “You better.”