CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
Tierney
I wasn’t in the habit of freaking out.
Had managed to stay relatively calm and collected when I’d escaped the Camorra, crossed borders, and took off Vello’s finger.
But the unease I felt right now threatened to drown me in anxiety.
Achilles had been gone all day. He wasn’t answering his texts. Wasn’t calling to check on me, either.
This was different from what I’d been used to in the past few weeks. The constant doting and affection disappeared today, and in turn, I paced our apartment like a lion in a cage, wanting to rip the walls apart.
I should be going out. Shopping. Visiting friends. Living.
But I wanted to stay home instead, to make sure that we were okay.
Only one thing happened between yesterday and today that could cause his sudden withdrawal from me—Alex Rasputin.
It had been a mistake to have the threesome.
In my defense, it wasn’t even my fault. I hadn’t initiated it. Admittedly, I enjoyed every second of it, but had I known Achilles would react this way…that he’d give me the cold shoulder all day…
Where the hell was he?
Picking up my phone from the marble slab in the middle of the kitchen, I opened our text thread.
Tierney: Hey, when will you be back? I’ll book us reservations at Maggiano’s.
Tierney: Have you seen my AirPod charger?
Tierney: ?
Tierney: I’m worried. Please call back.
Those were the normal texts. Unfortunately, the subsequent ones were completely unhinged and gave strong Fatal Attraction vibes. I didn’t have the stomach to read through them.
I wanted to throw up.
Were we over? Was he giving me the silent treatment to teach me a lesson? Was the threesome a test? Had I failed?
After the club, we had gone back home, and everything was fine. Normal.
Maybe it took time for things to sink in.
I was clawing at the bars of my enclosure.
I couldn’t lose him. No matter what. I’d make it right. Do whatever it takes.
What would it take to bring him back?
Restless, I shot Lila a text.
Tierney: Have you seen Achilles today?
Lila: No. Why, what’s up?
Tierney: I can’t reach him.
Lila: Have you tried Tiernan?
No, and I didn’t want to. My brother would demand an explanation for all of my questions, and once I came clean, he’d blow a gasket. He’d barely come to terms with Achilles and me as a couple. Throwing Lyosha into the mix would be practically suicidal.
Luckily, Lila knew her own husband and his psychotic ways because another text appeared on my screen.
Lila: I can ask Tiernan on your behalf, if you’re not in the mood to be interrogated.
Tierney: Thank you.
Putting the phone down, I walked over to the closet for the millionth time. All of his things were still there. At the very least, he was coming back to take them.
I didn’t recognize myself in this desperation, but I couldn’t help it.
I loved him.
I loved him, I loved him, I loved him.
From the very first moment when he entered my room and took the nightmares away.
My phone pinged in the living room. I went back to fetch it.
Lila: Achilles was at Fermanagh’s earlier. They had a meeting with Alex. He mentioned Achilles is pissed.
I couldn’t breathe.
Grabbing my head, I folded in two on the floor and began to sob.
The loss felt impossible to digest. He’d slipped between my fingers once, when I was young and stupid, but I was given another chance. Another shot at happiness.
Of course, I blew that, as well.
Maybe I didn’t deserve good things. Because whenever they came my way, I was so good at letting them slip between my fingers.
“I didn’t want to do this…” I choked out, my tears dampening my face and the collar of my shirt. “I should’ve never…agreed…to this…”
The mechanical turn of the lock started from the entrance door. I whipped my head up just in time to see Achilles step inside. He hadn’t seen me yet. Instead, he tossed his phone and wallet onto the kitchen table and peeled off his jacket, looking exhausted.
“Tier, baby?” he called out. “You here?”
Baby…?
Wiping off my face, I slowly rose up to my feet, making myself known. “Hi,” I squeaked.
He turned to look at me, scowling. “Have you been crying?”
“No.” I rubbed at my eyes pointedly. “Hay fever, I think. What’s going on?”
“So… I have a half brother.” He stared at me, wide-eyed, letting his words sink in.
Shamefully, my first thought was THANK FUCK.
So this was why he was upset.
Not because of the threesome and not because of Alex.
A secret half brother I could deal with.
“Vello’s son?” I blinked.
He nodded.
I sprang into action immediately, rushing to the kitchen and pulling out a chair. “Sit down. I’ll fix you a drink. Tell me everything.”
He did what he was told, a telltale sign he was shocked. Achilles had never taken one direction in his entire damn life. I rushed to the liquor cabinet and pulled out his favorite whiskey, pouring three fingers into a tumbler and putting it in front of him. “Drink.”
He tossed it back in one go. “It’s Tristan Hale.”
“What?”
“I went to Fermanagh’s to ambush him. Wanted to see why he spared your life. Well, I found out.”
“Why?”
“Because he knew you were my weakness and that as long as you live, you’ll be my priority. I won’t become don.”
“That’s—”
“Completely true,” he finished flatly. “The Camorra’s going to work with him.”
“Oh.” I put my hands on his shoulders, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. I didn’t know what to say to this. I was glad Hale hadn’t killed me, but I was more concerned with what this revelation did to Achilles. “How do you…feel about it?”
“Pissed,” he growled. “Vello should’ve had the foresight to use a condom when he visited his hookers.”
“And…about your new family member?”
“We’ll see about that. He’s an annoying motherfucker.”
“Did you see his face?”
“Yeah.”
“What does he look like?”
“A one-dimensional football hero who cheats on his girlfriend so that she falls for the nerd in a bad chick flick.”
“First of all, that sounds like a great chick flick.” I squeezed his shoulders. “Second, I have a feeling this is going to be a fruitful collaboration. Tristan Hale is a capable man.”
“He is also undoubtedly a cunt if he has Ferrante blood running through his veins.” A frown touched his face, and he picked up his phone for the first time since he’d gotten back to the apartment.
“Have you been blowing up my phone?”
Fuck my life.
“No…?” I cringed.
His eyebrows shot up as his thumb scrolled through the texts.
“Please answer your phone, I swear I didn’t even come from him, all I could think about was your dick in my ass?” He read from one of the less palatable text messages I’d sent him, tilting his head to examine me.
Feeling my blush burning through the first layer of my skin, I tried snatching the phone from him. He pulled his hand back and stood, a devious grin on his face.
“Give me that,” I huffed. “This is personal.”
“You texted it to me.”
“And you haven’t bothered answering,” I muttered bitterly.
“Hold on one second.” He put his finger up, frowning at the screen. “Please, baby, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make it better. I love you so much. You’re the only one for me.”
I rolled my eyes. “You ghosted me the entire day.”
“It’s been five hours since I left.”
“You always check on me.” I recognized my bratty tone and was past caring.
“I do.” He put his phone back down, taking a step toward me and tilting my head up to look at him. “I got caught up with the Tristan situation. And when it was over, I was eager to get home to unpack it with you, so I didn’t check my phone.”
My lower lip trembled. I messed with the collar of his shirt. “I may have…overreacted because of yesterday.”
Achilles studied me closely. “Why?”
“Because you don’t like sharing.”
“I’m not going to anymore. That was a one-time thing to prove to you that I’ve changed.”
“And how did it feel?”
He pressed his lips to my forehead, his mouth moving over it in a whisper. “Like death.”
Something like darkness spread over my bones as he cupped my shoulders and walked me back toward the bedroom. I didn’t resist. I needed this—to feel his skin against mine. Him moving inside me.
I’d made good progress with my therapist. We’d dug into some of my decisions…
and preferences. I could now identify why I liked to be hurt in bed.
It was because my expectation from my partners was so low, so incredibly nonexistent, letting them hurt me was a way to reclaim my control and convince myself that I’d wanted it.
I didn’t have that problem with Achilles. I knew he was incapable of hurting me.
He parted my lips with his thumb slowly, meticulously, making my pulse thrum between my legs with excitement.
My lashes fluttered, and he pushed his entire thumb between my lips.
I clasped my mouth around it, sucking hard, my vision clouding with a thick mist of desire. My legs hit the base of our bed.
“I want to suck you off.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“No.” His voice, brash and low, made my insides tremor, his darkening gaze caressing every cell in my body. “I’m done playing games.”
He shoved me to the bed, and I fell with a bounce. My heart fumbled like a bird trapped in a cage. His weight came down on me, and he pinned me to the mattress, the softness in his eyes threatening to rip me to shreds.
Intimacy.
Not sex.
This was what he wanted and what I was so scared of.
It was one thing to admit to him that I loved him.
And another to follow through on these words and show him with my body.
Desperately, I reached for his cock, trying to set the mood and the pace. He slapped my hands away and bunched my wrists together. “No.”
I thrashed and kicked, trying to release myself from his grip. My pointy fingernails slashed at every exposed sliver of inked flesh. I drew blood and kept going, hoping to hit bone.