Chapter 5 #2
“What? No.” I look at her, insulted. “My brothers do. Cute as bugs.”
“Bugs aren’t cute.”
“These are.”
She pushes out a breath. And my gaze catches on her mouth. It wouldn’t take much to steal a kiss, another taste of her. But I set her carefully back on the sofa.
“If I undo you, promise not to run.” I pick up the package I had expedited and pull out the pretty dress. Of course, I forgot shoes, but her sneakers are bright red and they’ll look cute with the cherry print dress.
“Am I your doll?”
“We’re meeting your mam. Together. We need to have a discussion.”
“And my day just gets better,” she says, sarcasm dripping from her words. “I won’t run.”
I’m not entirely sure I believe her, but she’s also gazing at the dress with eagerness, and I bet she wants to get changed out of those sweats.
I undo her hands and feet, and she snatches the dress and looks around, jumping up when she sees the bathroom door.
While she changes, I text her mam.
Me: Declan Murphy here, Ma’am. Change of plans. Meet me at the Murphy Bodyguard office. Bring the threats. We need to talk about your daughter’s situation.
I add the address and a time, then press send.
At that moment Marlowe barrels into me, intent on getting out the door. I grab her just before she can grab the handle and toss her over my shoulder again.
“Put me down—”
I slap her ass, just to hear the soft little moan she makes when I do. That’s one thing I like about Marlowe, she likes a bit of rough. She likes what I do to her, and I want to do more. So much more.
“Not very nice, Molly, breaking your promise like that. Now, be quiet, we’ve got places to be.”
I take the stairs down to the garage and toss her in the back of the big car where Clive, the driver, waits.
Mikey’s in Queens this week with Lucie’s mam, running that side of the business.
Personally, I think there’s a little something-something between those two, but I’ve got bigger fish to fry than ponder love.
“New business we’re dabbling in?” Clive asks.
I look at him. “No.”
I tell him where we’re going and close the door behind me. The world instantly shrinks and grows electric.
Molly looks cute in the dress. The top hugs her small breasts. It’s a little loose everywhere else, but I like that look. Probably because it screams easy access.
We pull away from the brownstone, and while the West Village gives way to changing neighborhoods of Third Avenue, I’m more interested in Marlowe.
The murder in her eyes, the way every part of her quivers with hate and desire, that potent cocktail I want to suck down.
It’s pounding in my blood, too. Her gaze slips to my mouth, then farther south before she drags it back up to my face.
I’ve never been inside something so roomy that feels as small as a matchbox, one we’re both crammed into.
The air’s alive with her.
It caresses, stings, and throbs.
“We didn’t have hate before, Molly. It adds a little something, don’t you think?”
“It adds hate.”
I lean in, rub my nose to hers, and say against her lips. “I think it makes you want me more.”
With that I kiss her; long, deep strokes of my tongue against hers.
My hand slides into her top to toy with her nipples.
I want to feel her up, push her onto my cock.
I want to pull her into my lap and push her panties aside and thrust up into her and have her tell me all the things she wants to do to me.
I want her to unleash that anger and ride me into oblivion until we’re so lost we’re one.
But I don’t. I keep my hands above the waist. But I don’t stop kissing her. I want her soft and lost and dazed. And the only reason I don’t go down that particular rabbit hole right now is because I know I have to stop, and I’ve got to rein myself in. Otherwise…
I’d be fucking her senseless right about now.
There’s a rapping sound on the window, and it takes me a moment to realize that we’re here.
I check my watch. It’s showtime. Everyone should be here.
Clive opens the door. I get out, discreetly adjusting myself, and then I haul her out, throw her over my shoulder again, and walk inside.
I kick the door to the main office open with one foot dramatically, and Molly’s diatribe stops dead as I dump her in front of her mam and my brothers.
She wobbles, but I put a hand at her lower back to steady her.
“He’s insane. Fire him. Right now,” she says.
I slap a hand over her mouth and whip out the ties and make quick work of her hands, then put my hand on her shoulder and say, “I caught her sneaking around, trying to go and see this Leon guy who’s mixed up with a cartel.”
“I knew it,” Cloris says. Her narrowed eyes snap to her daughter.
“I think we should talk privately,” I say.
My hand lands back on her mouth before she can say anything, and she bites me again, so hard my cock twitches.
I force her into the small room in the back and tie her to a chair.
“I fucking hate you,” she hisses.
“In this case you can, but it’s for your own good.” I kiss her one more time. “God, do you taste so good. Sorry, Molly.”
And before she can say anything else, I gag her.
Then I close the door and join the others.
“She is my child,” Cloris snaps.
“One that’s been lying and trying to escape all day.” I embellish the events at the Manhattan Ballet, as well as her texts with Leon. I make up shit about Leon himself. I’m fairly certain he’s connected to organized crime, so I don’t feel bad. But then I drop the bombshell.
“Here’s the thing, Cloris. I’m more than a regular bodyguard, and you need what I offer. The power of connections behind me. Of understanding the criminal mind. Your daughter needs protection because someone’s been threatening her.”
“I don’t need mafia.”
“We are the Murphy family,” Callahan says easily, “but this is Declan’s business. We’re here to know what he’s up against, and what support he might need. But this is a legit business. And as he said, with connections. I know you understand that.”
To her credit, she doesn’t step back. Most would.
“We know your husband’s been taken,” I say, even though we don’t know anything for sure. “I’ll assume there’s pressure on you from some unsavory sources. We can help. We’ll look into his disappearance, take care of any troublemakers where you’re concerned, and find who’s stalking Marlowe.”
There’s a moment’s silence as Cal leans against the desk. Seamus watches the room. Torin, too.
“I have board members to keep happy. This needs to be discreet. There’s a merger I’m negotiating, I can’t have trouble.” She blows out a breath. “If this was a year or so down the road, I could simply marry her off and she’d be her husband’s problem.”
The hairs on the back of my neck spring to attention. “She has a husband waiting?”
“Whether she likes it or not. It’s a complicated, arranged marriage to clear some…debts.” Cloris looks at us. “Not all debts are money-related. I need the debts squared; he needs a cleaner reputation.”
“Cleaner reputation?” I ask in silky tones, ignoring Cal’s warning look. “Like a virgin? You’d sell her?”
The woman stalks up to me, but I don’t back down.
She might be used to commanding boardrooms, long before what I assume her figurehead company president husband went off into the dark night, but she doesn’t intimidate me.
My mam’s a different beast entirely, and she can make all of us quake if she chooses to.
She pales in comparison to mam.
“Please,” she says, eyeing me.
“More manners than your daughter,” I say. “I’ll give ye that.”
I can almost hear Cal’s warning snarl in my head, even though he doesn’t utter a sound.
But there’s an inkling of respect in her gaze. It’s threaded with dislike, but I’m not aiming to charm, I’m aiming to prove a point. My blood burns and my fingers itch to touch Molly again.
I refocus.
“I had a proposal in mind,” I say.
“You mafia types are all the same,” she snaps.
“This isn’t one of your draconian marriages.
He just wants the appearance of a good wife.
I’m not sure he’s interested in sleeping with her; he’s shown no interest in moving up our arrangement.
Of course, if you find my husband, then things might ease up and change. ”
“Like,” I say, “her marriage?”
“That might get called off, yes. Marlowe is a respected ballerina and moves in circles your lot don’t—or can’t.
She’ll open doors and her vast inheritance and trust fund will become his.
She gets it all at twenty-seven, or on her twenty-fourth birthday if she’s wed.
Or rather, her husband gets it,” she amends.
She’s paying off the debt with a reputation maker, door opener, and dowry. I don’t know what the debt is, but this smacks of organized crime.
It’s stupid, convoluted, and something a privileged woman would do. And irrationally, I want to upset her apple cart. Irrationally, I want to save Molly, someone I don’t actually hate, lust aside.
“You don’t want her in the wrong hands.” I smile.
Her eyes narrow in that moment, just like her daughter’s.
“I don’t want her near anyone from the cartel.
Or around unsavory men. This…man has a level of respect, but he wants the final coating.
But that isn’t your business.” She holds her folder out.
“Marlowe’s safety is your business. Keep her from straying, protect her, and the job’s yours. We’ll negotiate fees—”
“We will,” Callahan says smoothly.
I nod. “You have some issues, as does your husband. Those issues bleed. I can look into those, too.”
“Just keep my daughter safe, and if you can, find Heston. But Marlowe’s protection comes first.” She folds her arms. “If I need help on the other things, I’ll let you know.”
I smile again. “Twenty-four-seven means her with me, and the world seeing us as a unit—not me protecting her for a job.”
Cloris looks at us all, but her suspicious eyes finally come to rest on me. “What do you propose?”
“I have an idea,” I say with a smirk.
“Are you sure?” Seamus asks me later. “There are easier ways.”
“Says the man who married Ava Volkov.”
“Careful now.” He fists a hand.
I hold up mine. “I love Ava, like a sister, even though she’s the most vicious woman I’ve ever known. And yes, I’m sure. We simply set this up as a legit arm of the business.”
Cal and Torin exchange a look.
“Separate,” Torin says. “We could launder through it.”
“You’d pick up jobs when this is over, or hire people?” Cal taps his hand on the desk he’s leaning on. “We could use this.”
“Cloris says if we keep Mol—Marlowe safe,” I say, “and find and bring back Heston, she’ll elevate us.”
Seamus rolls his eyes. “We don’t need a big corporation, which is always dirtier than us, doing any elevating.”
“I want to prove myself, Cal.” I look at my brother.
“Look at the threats.” I flip the folder open.
“They’re downright creepy. And I saw the ones against Cloris, too.
But right now, I’m just focusing on the daughter and the husband.
They could be connected. Get what you want by threatening the daughter in the form of a creepy fan. ”
“We might just stir the pot the wrong way.” He frowns. “You might.”
“I can do this. It looks easy enough.” I look at Cal. “One of the best ways to lure in enemies and get them talking is to lull them into thinking you’re harmless.”
“Not always,” he warns.
I don’t back down. “In this case, yes. And I want to prove myself.”
He lets out a sigh and then nods. “Okay. Do it.”
I’m buzzing when I push open the door to the room where I’ve got Molly trapped. Her eyes still snap with lightning, the power of a million hornets buzzing as she sits, almost vibrating with rage.
“I’m good at protecting.” I approach her slowly, kneeling as I look at her, hands on her smooth thighs.
She can’t kick because I’ve tied her ankles to either leg of the chair.
I slide the dress up, breathing in the sweet scent of her arousal. I’m already hard because she always has that effect.
Leaning forward, I bite the gag and pull it down before kissing her properly. She moans, and the musk of her arousal makes my mouth water and my cock twitch and ache.
Marlowe turns her head. I nip at her throat, sucking at her flesh. She hisses at me. “Stop that or I’ll bite.”
“A fate I’m willing to accept.” But I back down. “I’ve made an arrangement with your mam. There are real threats, Molly. And I can keep you safe.”
“How?”
“Easy. We pretend we’re in love.”
Her whole body jerks. “Never.”
“Hello,” I say, “Never’s here. We pretend, and we’re like glue to each other, Marlowe.”
“And how would we pull this off?”
“As I said, we pretend we’re in love.” I pause, a smile tugging at my lips when I see the horror in her expression. “And we get married.”