CHAPTER 18
Quinn
Fuck, this is so much better. The cold shoulder, the loathing.
I am confident she is plotting our union’s demise, possibly my death.
I’ll need to make sure she stays out of the kitchen and maybe train Shae to check for poisons.
Still, this Luna, the real one, is much more bearable than the fake horror Barbie thing she had going on.
She was stoic for the two-hour flight to Boston. Barely ate dinner after barely eating at the reception. She remained eerily quiet and still for the ride to the compound in the back of one of my Range Rovers. Now though, as she watches the trees pass us by on either side, she’s getting twitchy.
My compound is remote by design.
The Quinn land actually stretches for miles in either direction of the fenced acreage.
There are old small homes and barns tucked in the trees, structures that were there before I bought up all the properties, but otherwise, just woods.
No new homes or neighborhoods for miles.
It must feel strange to the city girl on my right.
Finally, we pull through the main gate and she sits back. I can’t tell if she’s relaxed to see the guards and guns and fences—things she’s used to—or if she’s bracing herself.
She should brace herself.
The front gates, the whole house, they’re a sight to behold.
It was originally going to be a hospital in the 1920s, but some rich couple snatched it up and added some architectural details and gardens, pools, all the shit to make it seem less like a hospital.
Then they turned it into a fortress during wartime.
That couple’s children’s children fell into the wrong line of work and ended up in debt to the wrong man. Me.
But they’re still living and breathing in a remote village overseas, and I took over a compound with 59 bedrooms and everything I could ever need for myself and my men. So, a win-win, really.
It comes into view and I hear her gasp and then try to recover.
“Not bad, huh?”
She glares at me, “Looks like an old insane asylum. Of course, you feel right at home.”
I huff half a laugh and then see her tense when the dogs come out.
“Afraid of dogs?”
Again, her eyes are venomous when they meet mine. She looks down to her lap, “I have a dog.”
“That is not a dog,” I reply. She just scoffs and looks out over the manicured lawns that are now crawling with at least ten giant, barking beasts.
“Don’t worry, they won’t attack unless I tell them.
Or,” I make a point to stretch across her body, pull on the handle and push her door open.
“If they sense a threat to me.” She inhales slowly, and I can’t help myself so I add, “Which, of course, you’re not. ”
At that she grits her teeth. She’s so easily riled. Maybe being married will be fun after all.
Tinkerbell arrives first, my baby girl and the alpha of the whole pack. She sticks her head right in the cab of the car, eliciting what I’m guessing is supposed to be a bark from Marlon Brando in his little fucking purse.
“Do not eat my dog, Satan!” Luna says, sounding a lot more terrified than she looks.
“That’s Tink. She’s the leader, she needs to sniff you both.”
“Tink? Tinkerbell? That’s her name? Oh, barf, do they all have tiny names?”
“Atrás!” I command Tink to get back. She moves a few paces from the car and sits. “Yes. Except for the runt, Beast.”
“Runt? All I see is a bunch of black horses! None of these could possibly be categorized as dogs,” she screeches.
I have to stifle a chuckle as I get out of the car.
I have Cane Corsos, Dobermans, Rottweilers, New Foundlands, Great Danes and little Beast, arguably the biggest Boxer ever owned.
Still, I see her point, especially when almost all of them converge on the car at once.
I walk around to her side and push her door open wider. She still hesitates, so I grab Marlon.
“No, wait!”
“Manso,” I tell my dogs as I set the shaking creature down in front of Tink.
“Does that mean murder?” She jumps out of the car, looking ready to tackle me or maybe my guard dog.
I put out an arm to block her and explain, “It means gentle.”
The chihuahua rolls over, pisses itself and cries, and surprisingly, this affects my new wife.
I tell Tink to submit, and she immediately lays on her back with her legs up in the air.
I set Marlon on top of her so he can give her a good sniff.
He hops off, moving to sniff all the other dogs eagerly waiting, tails happy. Good. They’ll be fine.
“Ah! Don’t!” She squeaks when the Great Danes take their turn. She moves to rescue her tiny pet but I stop her.
“No dogs inside the house.”
“What? You’re going to make him stay outside?”
“They have a nice big kennel,” I say before walking off. “Come,” I call back to my frozen bride as I head toward the house.
She starts walking then stops. “Um, no. You’re not going to give me one word commands like these damn sumo dogs.”
I just glare at her. But she glares back. I nod, “Find your own way then.” I turn and stalk toward the front steps, having to hold in another chuckle at the expletives I hear behind me. I also give her some credit for catching up with my much longer strides rather than asking me to wait.
I blow into the front and start right up the steps.
I’m not a tour guide. Sheila can do that later.
She asked me if the staff should, “stand out front and present themselves to the don’s wife.
” Thank God I said no and instead had most everyone clear out.
This woman is not ready to meet the whole crew of Quinns, that’s for damn sure.
As we go up the steps, Luna hustling to keep up, we pass a few men coming in and out of rooms. From the landings along the grand entry stairs you can see hallways filled with doors, and some of the common spaces where we have pool tables, couches, and TVs, which is why I’m not surprised to hear her mumbled commentary behind me.
“What is this, a fucking frat house?…How many people live here?…Where the hell am I?…”
Finally at the fifth floor landing, I stop.
“This is my floor, now your floor. And my father’s too, but he stays on that side,” I point past her.
“But other than him, no one comes up here unless it’s an emergency or to clean.
Library here,” I point to the sitting room centered off of the main landing before walking down the hall.
“A study I never use through this door, there are linens and other shit you might need in this closet, then here’s the master suite.
” I open the double doors to my room. “The room is outdated but the bathroom isn’t, through there.
State of the art shower and bathtub, sauna too. Big closet.”
She stares at the one massive bed…like she wants to set it on fire.
I step around her and close the door, then walk back, planting myself squarely in front of her.
I don’t miss how she lifts her chin, brave and defiant, as if she’s not a head shorter than me and as breakable as can be. My dick doesn’t miss it either.
That’s inconvenient.
“I’m not going to make you sleep in my bed, but you will sleep in this room. You will use this bathroom and share the closet. Everyone knows this is business, but you’re my wife, my clan out there needs to show you the due respect. They need to see this is a real marriage.”
“Pff. Couch it is,” she snips, crossing her arms and spreading her stance in her ridiculous yellow outfit. Her skirt rides up higher on her toned legs, but I don’t look. Still, I notice it, and that’s bad enough. I need to get it together. Go beat the shit out of someone. And maybe get laid.
I point to the panel on the wall by the door. “There’s a wired intercom here so you can call down to the kitchen or call up here from elsewhere in the house.”
“Intercom?”
Again, this woman makes me want to laugh. She’s so passionate in her disgust. I elaborate, “Yes, refurbished from the seventies. Sheila can give you a tour of the rest of the house grounds. Explain your duties.”
“Explain my what?” I ignore her question and head to the door. “Quinn!”
“I have to go and will be back late, but Shae runs the kitchen, her daughter Sheila runs the house. She’ll be ready whenever you are in the morning.”
“Wait, you’re leaving?” She asks in a strange tone.
It’s past the dinner hour but not late. She needs to get used to me coming and going at odd hours.
I cock my head and wait for her to go on, because I’m positive she doesn’t want me around.
“We didn’t discuss…was there anything in the contract about tonight?
Proof? The usual old-fashioned bullshit? ”
Sex.
She’s asking about sex. Of course, the famous virgin vixen, sexy as can be but reportedly untouched. It was in her file. She and her father have made her virginity almost as legendary as my depravity.
And I get the appeal…
No. Don’t look her over, starting with those toned, bare legs.
“We’re not that old fashioned here. No one’s inspecting my sheets.” I say simply, but she’s still shifting uncomfortably. I decide to push her buttons, because I can so easily. “Do you want me to fuck you?”
“No! Hell, no.” She relaxes back into her natural state, angry insolence. “You just said this needs to seem like a real marriage to your men, didn’t know how real you meant.”
I tilt my head and raise my eyebrows, because she has a point. The few that are in the house right now will be wondering, waiting, listening. They’re all going to gossip either way.
I stalk to my headboard.
“What are you—” she stops asking when she sees me slam the headboard against the wall in a steady rhythm.
Hard. Her mouth drops open and my eyes can’t help but stare…
such a perfect little O shape. She quickly shuts it up into a hard line and rolls her eyes.
But I pick up the pace of the thumping, as I would if I were really giving it to someone—to her—right before I blow.
The air in the room changes and I watch her reaction.
She maintains her irritated expression but her cheeks are darkening by the second.
I glance down to see if her chest is starting to get tell-tale splotches of arousal.
It is. I look quickly back into her eyes, holding them as the thump, thump, thump grows louder, faster. She doesn’t balk. She holds my stare.
Damn.
I give the bed a few last jerky shoves and stop before she’ll begin to see evidence of my own reaction in my pants.
“That’ll do it,” I say, my voice lower than I intended.
I walk past her but stop and talk down into her ear.
“You’re my wife now, try not to flinch if I touch you.
Follow my lead and play along in front of my family when necessary.
But to be clear, I don’t hurt women or children, or torture animals, despite what crazy stories you may have heard.
” I lean closer. “And I definitely don’t fuck unwilling participants.
” I take a few steps toward the door, then I remember the signal Mac gave me outside. I turn and open my palm. “Phone.”
Her voice is noticeably breathy when she says, “I, uh, I already gave it to you on the plane.”
I snap twice and push my hand forward. Her anger becomes palpable around her as she sets her jaw and inhales through her nose. She pulls her second iPhone from where it was tucked the waist of her skirt at her back.
She offers it, then pulls back, and pleads, “Wait, listen. I need to be able to text my friends, my family. I need FaceTime and shared photos. Surely there’s some way I can keep it?
You can have complete access, no password protection or anything.
” I just shake my head. “Come on, Quinn, I’m not a spy!
I am just your everyday, ordinary human being living in, you know, the twenty-first century! ”
“No,” I reach to grab it and she lets me.
“You can make calls on the phone I gave you. There’s no wifi, so you wouldn’t be able to do any of those things anyway.
You can check emails from one of my offices in the city every so often.
” I can see panic in her eyes for a flash as the last connection to her old life is suddenly severed.
But it’s just a breath and then her resilience is back in place like a lock.
Even under her emotional guards and scary-ass clown make up, she’s beautiful. Fiery. Strong. Which is why it slips out as I leave, “And you are not ordinary, Lasairéan.”