9. Callahan
NINE
callahan
She’s mine.
I can’t stop thinking that.
She’s mine. To do with what I want, when I want.
And I will. I’m looking forward to breaking her, learning about her, teasing out her kinks and desires.
“I half expected you to wear your mask down the aisle, Lucia.” I say that even though all masks have been discarded by this point.
“Too many horrible memories. Someone tried to cop a feel in a park last time.”
“I’ll kill anyone who does that.”
She opens her mouth.
I smile. “Anyone but me.”
And I’m being deadly serious.
Right now, she’s mine.
She’s important to the deal, to my plans, but the fact that she’s been in my brain since that night…
hell, this sham is gonna be fun.
“Well, that’s a damn pity,” she says.
“Ah, hello, you must be the girl my brother Seamus wanted to shoot the other night,” Declan says, interrupting us.
“Glad he didn’t. Dance with me. I’m Declan. Cal’s brother.” He casts a glance at me and winks.
She takes his hand and says, “Call me Lucie,” then drags him off to dance.
“Shouldn’t you be having the first dance?” Torin hands me a drink.
Sweet, beautiful whiskey.
“Let him. I’ll kill him later.”
“More money for me,” Seamus says cheerfully.
I’m more uncomfortable than I’d like with Dec dancing with her.
I shouldn’t be. He doesn’t mean a thing by it.
He’d never, not even if he crushed hard on her, do anything.
I know because he’s my brother and there have been times when feelings have come up for each other’s piece.
No one ever steps on toes or crosses lines.
Our blood bond means more than a fucking female.
More than a friend, more than a business deal.
And if anyone touched my brothers, I’d kill them.
The fact that these…
murderous revenge urges are popping up in me over imaginary men trying to put their filthy hands on my new wrong bride is because I haven’t had her yet.
Once I do?
Well now, I guess it’s going to depend just how good she is.
Torin leans in. “Look.” He hands me his phone and a flash of dark violence slices through me.
“Paddy O’Sullivan? What’s that fuck coming to New York for?”
Paddy, real name Piotyr Osinov—does it even fucking matter?
Dress a Russian piece of shit up in pearls and diamonds and it still is a piece of shit—tried to take me out when I was sixteen.
I might be inclined to forgive a man of twenty-five for trying to murder a kid.
But I wasn’t exactly harmless.
I’d killed before and I’d have sliced him open from nut sack to throat if given the chance back then.
But he failed at killing me and I didn’t get that chance.
Then when he came after Declan, who was only nine years old at the time, for stealing some sweets, he hurt him.
Bad.
I have yet to settle that score.
“Does it matter?” Torin cuts his eyes at Declan dancing and laughing with my bride.
Lucie. She likes to be called Lucie.
I can think of some other names I’d like to call her.
I’ll fucking torture Paddy before I rip out his heart.
Fuck the Osinov family.
They have power, but so do we.
And even more now. To me, Paddy’s a weak little fuck who picks on others in the shadow of Russian bratva.
“No.” I toss back my drink.
“We’ve got business this week and next. We’ll fit him in.”
“Does he know we’re here?”
“Tor, Paddy’s a piece of shit. He can’t do?—”
“He’s still an Osinov.” Torin looks at me.
I sigh. “The Osinov Bratva might have his back, but his family doesn’t let him have power?—”
“There’s being reckless and a fucking death wish, Cal.” Torin’s eyes narrow.
“Family is still family, whether they want him as part of the bratva or not, and you know it.”
I ignore him, even though he’s right.
“He keeps trying to make his own moves and every time, he fucking fails.” New York isn’t a place for him to easily ascend anywhere.
But he’s arrogant. And maybe…
Shit. “Yes, he’ll know we’re here. Maybe he wants a job.”
Torin rolls his eyes.
“Or a chance to make alliances with other bratva? Osinov sticks to Europe. If the family has ties here, they don’t advertise it.”
“If he wants me? Wants a fight? Bring it the fuck on.”
“I’ll talk to our bratva contacts. I don’t want to step on toes.” Torin types on his phone .
“I don’t think any other crime family is going to let him in. He lives off family scraps and carves his own pathetic path. When we meet with him, take out the rest of his people if he has any in your way. But Paddy? He’s mine.”
“What if he’s got business with your new father-in-law?” Tor mutters.
“Then he’s not what I thought. And anyway, I doubt it, because Paddy can’t keep his mouth shut.” That’s going to be my job, to permanently shut it.
Torin frowns. “Don’t rock this boat, Cal.”
The business this week and next that we have is one small reason I moved the wedding up.
I need de Rosa’s connections, and the sham union will get me exactly what I want.
The song ends and someone else asks my bride to dance.
I don’t know who it is.
He’s still wearing a mask, the only guest who is.
He makes the mistake of looking at me and then suddenly finds something else to do.
Dec’s already hightailing it over to me.
He drags me to a quiet corner.
“Cal, they expect you to consummate it. The whole sheet thing.”
I wince.
“She told you?”
“Some, but I put the rest together. So?—”
“Tell the others to mingle and when I take her upstairs, be ready to go.”
Dec frowns.
“You don’t want to network?”
“I’ve networked enough. This is only to be seen and get the marriage out there.” With that, I take my bride by the hand and tug her into the hall.
“My brother tells me we need to show them all how virginal you are.”
Color stains her cheeks.
“I’ll handle it.”
“I’m sure you will, but it’s more fun if I’m there to help.”
The Don appears.
“The housekeeper has put fresh white linens on your bed.” His gaze moves to me.
“I’m sure you can take care of business. Without a priest and church, we need the sheet.”
“Are you coming to watch? Is there a panel? Judges? Score cards?”
“Mr. Murphy,” he says in a dangerous voice that makes me want to laugh, “the consummation and the proof of her virginity are important in our world.”
“I’m sure they are. After we’re done, I’ll be taking my bride home.”
Her father doesn’t have the grace to even look at her.
“Fine by me. She’ll be obedient. Now she’s yours.”
When he leaves, I let her lead me up the stairs.
I’m not a man who’s led by others, but there’s something about following the tastiest, strangest female I’ve met.
The sexiest and most erotic, too, because damn, she was basically humping my thigh, trying to ride it like I want her to ride my mouth.
And if she’s like that in a park with a stranger she ran away from, what’s she going to be like when I finish with her?
On the third floor she stops and stands outside what I guess is her door, shoulders tensing.
I run my knuckles down her spine, dropping my mouth against the nape of her neck as I move the tendrils of her hair out of the way.
I want her hair down.
I want her naked.
Spread open.
Whimpering.
For me.
“I’ll fuck you here if you want, but I figured you might like privacy.”
“Asshole.” She pushes open the door and storms in.
The wobble in her voice is the only thing that ruins her flounce.
“Oh Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and the poor fucking donkey. Is this your childhood room?” I walk around it, and then because she’s standing like some statue of misery, I decide to cheer her up.
I don’t know why.
At all.
“Does your father think I’m some kind of pervert? I am, but not this kind. This is sick. You’re dressed like a wedding cake, and I just know there are teddy bears stuffed in that closet. Not to mention the teenage dreams in poster form that are guaranteed to be hidden away. And this bed.” I shake my head.
“He made me hide everything away.” A laugh bubbles out of her, followed by a small sobbing sound.
She presses her knuckles to her mouth.
“Jesus, how did it end up being you ?”
“How did you end up outside the place where I was carrying out a hit?”
She turns away and I approach, getting high on whatever she’s putting out.
Usually it’s a sickened thrill or fear mixed with lust. I don’t feel the fear.
It’s frustration, annoyance, want, lust, need.
It all makes me beyond hard.
Because the way she turns back and looks at me with those golden eyes that are liquid desire says she’s seconds from dropping to her knees and blowing me.
I can already feel her hot lips around my pierced cock, running her tongue down the Jacob’s Ladder, up and over the Prince Albert and the tattoo I have on the base.
“I didn’t want this. It wasn’t supposed to be me getting married.”
Yeah, but you’re so much fucking better.
The thought shocks me for a second.
“You ever mess around with any guys before?”
She nods stiffly.
“How many?”
“Times?” Lucie blushes.
“Guys.”
“One.”
“Good, I only need to kill one guy. I’ll need his name.”
She starts to laugh but stops when she sees my face.
“You’re not killing anyone.”
“I might, we’ll see how it goes.”
I go up to her and rip her wedding dress open because I need to see some flesh.
Her shriek pierces the air.
I push the material off.
“Now she screams.”
The dress is half-off and I can see pale rose nipples, hard through the lace of her lingerie.
I drag her up to me and take her mouth in a wild, deep kiss, and as I do, I push her down on the bed, lowering myself on top of her.
She writhes under me, fingers in my hair, tugging at my clothes.
I kiss my way down to her left breast and suck her nipple through the lace, just enough to make her arch, not enough to make me lose control.
Though I can’t help myself from dragging my hand up under the skirt and ripping her panties to stroke and tease her pussy.
So hot and wet. Perfection.
She’s panting. “Callahan, what if?—”
“Relax, I’m not gonna fuck you.” I shove two fingers into her and pump them, edging her up and up until she’s a mess, my hand wet, her hips thrusting for me.
Fuck, I want her so badly.
I roll off her before I can’t stop myself from going further.
Her eyes drop to the erection that’s straining against my pants, and bless her perverted little innocent heart, she licks her lips.
“Do you want?—?”
I come back down over her, holding myself above her by my arms. “Want you to blow me?”
She nods.
I get up, get my knife from my inside pocket of my tux.
“ Darling, you’re not ready for my cock. And I’m sure as fuck not getting down and dirty with you in here. I’m not that twisted.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“No.”
She sucks in a breath as she registers the steel blade so close to her.
“W-hy do you have a knife?”
I help her off the bed with my free hand. “To do this .”