Ciaran #2
Nora doesn’t believe me. “Ciaran, this girl, Adeline. She is not some game. I raised you in a world where we didn’t pretend bad things don’t happen. But I also raised you to be a better man than someone who dates a woman for personal gain.”
“That’s not. . .”
“Did your uncle put you up to this?”
My teeth set. She and Cormac are cordial, but if it weren’t for my existence, they’d never for a second pretend to get along.
“Uncle Cormac’s got nothing to do with this.”
“To do with what?” she presses.
“Can a man not go on a fucking date these days.”
“Ciaran, you have to be careful.” There’s a brittleness to the words. “She is an Akatov.”
“I know. . .”
“No, you bloody don’t!” she shouts. “You do not know Boris and Gia Akatov. The two of them will cut your balls off and let you bleed out in the ocean. And that’s just if they’re acting on their own.
Have you thought about what would happen if the Russians found out a kid from Dublin was using one of their perfect dolls?
Your father called me, Ciaran. Think about that. ”
Admittedly, it’s a pretty fucking rare occurrence.
“He’s just angry,” I gruff over the phone. “Worried I’ll mess things up.”
It’s not like he’s ever wanted me to come to New York. He never listens when I tell him what Uncle Cormac and I are up to.
“I’m not worried you’ll mess things up,” Nora whispers. “I’m worried you’ll die, Ciaran.”
She’s being dramatic.
“Do not fuck with the Russians. Not like this. Using a girl.” Her tongue clicks, disappointed.
“What if I told you. . . that me and Adeline get on.”
She laughs. “You think I’m too old to remember about sexual tension?
Oh, yeah, our lives are filled with a type of pent-up lust found only in the grim, seedy areas we associate with.
That doesn’t make it right, Ciaran. I don’t know what you did.
I don’t want to know. But you’ve got to stop it before it goes too far.
Find an off-ramp and exit before it goes tits-up. ”
“It’s not going to.” I’m lying to the both of us, but that’s because she’s right. It’s not like there aren’t other girls willing to give me a chance. Who don’t care about the world we live in because the money is good and the morals are non-existent.
None of those girls matter. I want Adeline.
From the moment I saw her in that garden, I’d caught a glimpse of starlight, and I’m this close to being able to hold her. Really hold her.
“You’re the responsible one.” Nora sighs. “And too clever for your own good.”
“I’m okay,” I assure her. “And. . . I think you’d like Adeline if you met her.”
“You realize, she herself is an Akatov,” Nora says after a moment, making me frown. “She could very well be the one who kills you just for looking at her wrong.”
Last night she’d curled her fingers into me like claws, pulling me closer when I realized I’d taken her virginity.
I’d spotted it then. There is a madness inside Adeline, a dark pit of despair that I can read in her dark brown eyes because I know it well.
Of course she might kill me.
Nora snorts, understanding my silence. “You feckin eejit. You’re not supposed to be attracted to a woman who can kill you.”
“From what I hear, you know a thing or two about that.”
Some of the tension disappears. “You run into my old friend Nancy?”
“No, but if you could get me a meeting with Aunt Macy, that’d be great.” She’s a broker of sorts. Setting up important contracts. She doesn’t have to pretend like she’s running into people at restaurants. She snaps her fingers, people at her constant beck and call.
“You are not getting a meeting with Aunt Macy.” Nora’s never met her, but everyone knows Aunt Macy. She’s a legend.
“Da said something about her calling you once.”
“That was another time,” she says softly. She’s a good shot, Nora. Even Walsh, when I first met him, commented on her skills as a triggerman.
“I’m sorry Ian ruined it for you,” I deadpan.
She laughs softly. “Oh, no, he’s been grand. You, on the other hand.”
There’s nothing but affection in her dark humor, though. She rolls her eyes when Cain Murray or my mam is mentioned, but she doesn’t bitch or moan.
“Have you talked to Ian lat—”
There’s a knock on the door. Talking to Nora and not being in front of my computer means I haven’t checked the cameras lately. I stand up, grabbing a gun. If Nora is right about the Russian’s fury, I guess she’ll have an opportunity to listen to it.
“What is it?” Nora asks.
I spot waist length hair, a purple crewneck, and a backpack through the peephole.
I open the door, beckoning Adeline in. She kicks off her trainers, not saying a word since I’m on the phone.
“It’s nothing,” I tell Nora. “Have you seen Ian?”
“Yes and no,” she says in a tone that means I shouldn’t press. I’d asked him to come with us to New York. I’m still not sure if I’m grateful or disappointed when he turned down the offer so quickly.
“I’ll send him a postcard.”
She laughs, the noise slightly more exhausted this time.
“I’ve got to go.” Adeline, in her socks, pads around the kitchen, helping herself to a glass of water. “Love you, Nora.”
“I love you, strange child.”
My chest lightens. I’m suddenly a kid again, roaming around her kitchen, looking for food. She’s Ian’s mam, a lady who’s nice and friendly, even though it’s weird my brother is only half related to me.
“Bye,” I say, hanging up.
The fridge shuts. “Who’s Nora?”
I push my phone into my back pocket, rubbing my face. “Why are you here?”
“I don’t like my roommates.”
She takes her water, grabs her backpack, and within three steps is in the living room again.
“Can I study here?” She settles on the couch, unzipping her backpack.
The balance is being tested. We’re not dressed up, parading around a gala.
She pulls out a textbook. “Who is Nora?”
The question is curious, not bitchy.
“My brother Ian’s mam.”
“You have a brother?”
I fall onto the couch. “Yeah.”
“Are you the older brother? Is that why you understood Nat so well.”
I reach an arm around her. For a second she’s stiff before her muscles relax. “I hear we’re going after Peter Sablin now?”
A ghost of a smile traces her lips, but she flicks through her textbook.
“What happened?” I ask. What had sparked her ire so badly that she’d hauled me out of the ballroom and told me to be a better boyfriend?
“We’ve talked a lot about my family,” she says, turning a page. “Tell me about yours. Your dad works for Walsh. He’s been here for a while.”
I wrap a strand of her hair around my finger. “All my life.”
I explain the family dynamics.
Adeline listens, absorbing it all. Offering no judgment but also no pity.
“Next time text me before you come over,” I tell her, pulling her in for a kiss.
Her cheeks flush when she pulls away. “Are you mad?”
No. “What if I hadn’t been here?”
“Guess I’d have knocked on the neighbor’s door.” She sinks into the oversized cushions. “I wasn’t joking. I’m going to study.”
Since her cheeks are still pink, and I don’t want her to be overwhelmed, I push off the sofa.
“What are you doing?” she asks, chewing the end of a pen.
“Work.” I sit down at my computer, checking emails.
“Which is?” she asks quietly, like she’s not sure if she should.
“I’m good with computers,” I say. If I’d been anyone else, maybe I’d have gone off to university, gotten some fancy IT job, or gotten into coding.
My uncle is envisioning a future where we lead the city by taking over major suppliers. Being a hacker isn’t in the master plan, but it’s certainly fucking helpful.
“You know,” Adeline says slowly. “Good boyfriends don’t usually hack into their girlfriends’ phones.”
I don’t respond, staring into the abyss of my computer screens. I’ve got multiple monitors, everything placed exactly where I want it. I’m cautious with Adeline nearby on the sofa, but the need to do something other than sit on my arse overcomes me.
“Ciaran.”
When I look away from the computer, I realize the sun has shifted, shadows overtaking the living room.
Adeline has closed her textbook. “Are. . . Are you going to fuck me again?”
I’m out of my chair, a madman set loose, before she’s even finished asking.