Chapter 6 Annie #2
“We did have business to talk about,” I protest. “There’s so much going on with the…
merger.” I wince slightly. I always hate feeling like I’m keeping secrets from my friend, but there’s no good that could ever come from filling her in on the more illegal parts of my family.
It could make her a target for someone who wanted to hurt us, or if any member of our family ever got caught, she could be questioned in regards to our business dealings.
As it stands, if anyone ever asks her about us being Irish mafia, she can be genuinely shocked.
“Sure.” Mara takes another sip of her wine. “He obviously wanted to spend more time with you. Which makes sense, given your pasts. But Annie—there’s no way this is going to be simple if you pursue it.”
“I can’t pursue it. That’s the thing.” I blow out a sharp breath.
“There’s a lot of stuff that I can’t really go into—” Fortunately, Mara won’t ask too much about that.
Her line of work involves things like NDAs, so she knows when not to pry.
“But there’s no way this can ever be a thing.
Even if he wanted it, which I really don’t think is the case, Ronan would never allow it.
It would affect everything Elio has worked for.
If anyone had found out about us when we were teenagers, there would have been hell to pay.
Ronan would be furious to find out that Elio ever touched me back then.
That alone would make him want to get him far away from me now, and he wouldn’t be any happier about Elio and I as adults. ”
Mara sighs. “Then you should probably try to spend as little time around him as possible. Annie, I love you, and I want you to be happy. But I can already tell that all this is going to do is hurt you. You don’t deserve that.
You need to find someone who can make you happy, not add even more drama to your life. ”
"I know that. But—"
"And then there's the other guy. Desmond. Who sounds like a walking red flag, by the way." Mara’s expression turns stern. “I don’t like the sound of him at all.”
I set down my wine glass, surprised by the vehemence in her voice. "What do you mean?"
"Annie, everything you've told me about him screams possessive and controlling. The way he just came up to your table tonight, the way he talked to Elio, the way he acted like he had some kind of claim on you after one date—that's not normal behavior."
For some reason, I feel an odd urge to defend Desmond.
"He was just surprised to see me there. Jealous because I haven’t set up another date when I said I would.
And it was kind of shitty for me to bring Elio to the speakeasy.
He didn’t know that I wasn’t there on a date with Elio.
And like I said… it was kind of hot. You even agreed that there was nothing wrong with liking it. ”
“There’s nothing wrong with that, sure. That doesn’t mean that you should actually pursue something with this guy after that kind of behavior.
A little jealous is texting you later to ask about it.
What he did was more like marking his territory, and it's not cute.
" Mara's expression softens slightly. "Look, I get that you want to explore your options.
You've been single for a long time, and you deserve to find someone who makes you happy.
But please be careful with this guy. Something about him doesn't sit right with me. "
I reach for my wine, remembering my own discomfort during parts of my date with Desmond.
The way he didn't open doors, the possessive touches, the comments about control, and my brother's protection.
Was I overthinking, or was it my feminine instincts warning me about a guy who is, as Mara put it, a red flag?
I don’t know. I really don’t. And I suddenly feel a wave of tiredness that this is all so complicated, when all I want is to enjoy dating someone.
Men in our world are like that. Territorial, protective, possessive.
Mara doesn’t understand that—it’s one of the few things she can’t understand.
And I don’t have the luxury of dating men who exist in the normal world.
They can’t handle my family, my security team, all the rules and restrictions, and formalities that come with being with me.
"He's not that bad," I say, but even to my own ears, it sounds halfhearted. "He took me to a nice restaurant, planned a thoughtful evening—"
"Basic human decency isn't the same thing as being a good partner," Mara interrupts.
"And from what you've told me, he spent most of the date making comments about your independence and your family's protection.
That's not someone who sees you as an equal, Annie.
That's someone who sees you as a prize to be won. "
I huff out a breath, irritated because I know she’s at least partially right. He did make me uncomfortable with some of the things he said. “He could have been nervous,” I say defensively. “His family and mine have history. Him dating me would be a big deal if it became serious.”
“So that’s complicated, too? Annie, find someone easier. Someone that you can just like.”
“It’s never that easy.” I shake my head, frustration burning the back of my throat. “What am I supposed to do, Mar? Elio is off-limits—and probably not even all that interested in me anymore—and you're telling me that Desmond is bad news. Am I just supposed to stay single forever?"
Mara rolls her eyes. "Of course not. But maybe you need to figure out what you actually want before you make any decisions about either of them."
"I want to feel like I have some control over my own life," I say immediately.
"I want to make my own choices about who I date, who I sleep with, who I might want to build a future with.
I'm twenty-eight years old, and I've spent my entire life being protected and managed and kept safe. I’m still a virgin, for fuck’s sake, Mar.
I want to feel like a woman, not a child. "
"And what does feeling like a woman mean to you?" she asks patiently. “Think about it, Annie.”
“I want to be desired,” I say softly. “I liked the jealousy because it made me feel wanted. I don’t want what I had with Elio all those years ago—that hurt too much, and I feel like if I had it again, it would cheapen what that was.
I’m not trying to recreate that. But I want someone to really want me.
And Desmond did make me feel like that tonight.
Maybe he didn’t go about it the right way, but he made me feel wanted.
Like being with me meant something to him.
Like I was worth pursuing and standing up to someone else for. ”’
Mara pauses, her sharp green eyes piercing through the screen. “Like Elio didn’t, all those years ago.”
The statement hits me like a punch. I never thought about it that way. Maybe I never wanted to let myself think about it that way. But it’s true—Elio didn’t pursue me. He walked away. And he didn’t stand up to my father. He left, the way he was supposed to. He left me.
I swallow hard, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. “Maybe,” I admit.
“So forget about Elio,” Mara advises. “I know that’s hard, when you have to work with him some of the time, but try to avoid him when you can.
No more dinners, no more drinks out. And as for Desmond—” She hesitates.
“I get that you might want to pursue it, Annie. I get how he makes you feel. And I get being attracted to that kind of masculinity. But just… be careful.”
I nod, draining my glass of wine. I leave her for a moment to go refill it, and when I come back, I pepper her with questions about her latest gallery event to avoid any more discussion of my love life.
I feel drained from discussing it, and I’ve gone from wanting to figure out what the hell is going on in my head to wanting nothing more to do with it for now.
By the time we hang up, I’m a little drunk. And despite everything Mara and I talked about, my mind drifts back to Elio.
I want him. I’ve always wanted him, even after I told myself I’d moved on. He's the standard I've been measuring everyone against, the reason no other relationship has ever felt quite right.
But that can’t happen. It couldn’t happen back then, and nothing has changed so fundamentally now that we could be together. I don’t even know what he wants, and after tonight, I’m sure as hell not about to ask him.
His loyalty to my brother is something I truly don’t want to get in the way of, either. Which leaves me with nothing to do about that, except follow Mara’s advice and try to avoid him.
My phone buzzes, and I reach for it. Desmond’s name flashes on the screen, and I bite my lip, reading the incoming text.
Desmond: I’m sorry if I came on too strong tonight. Let me make it up to you and take you out again. There’s a charity gala next Friday night. I’d like you to go with me, if you’re up for it.
I read the text twice, trying to sort through my feelings. I should give him another chance. He’s apologized, and there was something between us on that first date. I should see if anything changes in a second, how that makes me feel.
He’s handsome, successful, and connected to our family already.
There are some complications with me dating him, but there are enough benefits that I think I could sway Ronan to see my side of it, once I’m sure that something will come of it.
The arrangement with the Connelly family was good for us before, and it could be even better if it were a love match.
Annie: I like the sound of that. Text me what time, and we’ll call it a date.
I toss my phone aside, trying to push thoughts of Elio out of my head—of what he’d think if he knew I just agreed to another date with Desmond, how that would make him feel. If his jaw would tense again, his eyes darkening with jealousy. If he’d be upset that I was with a man who wasn’t him.
If he’d wished he’d done things differently all those years ago.
Do I want to punish him for it? I don’t think so… I don’t think I’ve ever been angry with him for how things went, just sad. But maybe there are more lingering feelings of betrayal than I’ve been willing to admit. Maybe my feelings are more complicated than I’ve ever wanted to let on.
Nothing is ever going to feel like it did between us. I’ll never find that again. A hollow pit opens in my stomach at the thought, even as my hand falls to my breast, my fingers brushing against my nipple through the silk as thoughts of Elio flood my mind.
The cool concrete of the wall behind the school against my back. Elio’s fingers wrapped around mine. His mouth so close that I could taste the peppermint on his breath. The sound of a bell, breaking the moment.
My nipple tightens under my fingertips, peaking against the silk as my lips part. I can remember all of it. Every moment. And now, after spending a week with him so close, it’s impossible to keep the dam from breaking and all the memories rushing in.
Sunwarmed grass against my back. The smell of summer in the air and masculine sweat on smooth skin. The faintest hint of stubble on his chin. His lips touching mine for the first time, gently, and then harder. My gasp and his groan. The touch of his tongue. Desire, hot and sharp and fierce.
How hard he felt against me. How much I wanted everything with him, from the very beginning.
My hand slides down my stomach, fingers slipping under the edge of my silk lounge pants.
I trace the edge of the lace panties I have on underneath.
What was I thinking, wearing panties like this out on a business dinner?
As if he was going to see them? I knew he wouldn’t.
Did I want to feel as if I had a secret he’d want?
Did I want to lie here like this later, imagining the look on his face if he’d slid his hand up my thigh and discovered what was beneath my dress?
His fingers under my skirt. Tracing the edge of my panties.
His breath coming hard. His voice, panting that we shouldn’t be doing this.
My hips canting forward, my mouth searching out his, his fingers parting me for the first time, teaching me how much pleasure could be found at the very beginning of discovery.
Tracing upwards until he found the spot that made me come apart, night after night, dreaming of him.
My breath in his mouth. Panting my orgasm against his lips. His orgasm a moment later, without ever touching himself. The embarrassment in his face, the heat in mine. The sound of my voice, whispering that I liked it. That I loved how much he wanted me.
Everything except what I knew I couldn’t say—how much I loved him.
My teeth sink into my lower lip as my finger finds my clit.
I’m already wet, swollen just from thinking about him.
No, not wet… soaked. My finger slips in the wetness, searching for friction that I’m too wet to find.
But it still feels good. I’m so sensitive, my skin hot and tight all over, the memories coming fast and thick as I work my finger over my swollen clit, chasing my orgasm.
His smooth length in my hand. Sliding up and down, his ragged groans in my ear.
My mouth covering his to keep him quiet.
The whicker and stamp of the horses in the barn where we’re hiding.
His body shuddering, his climax coming in seconds.
The look in his eyes when I raised my hand to my lips to taste it.
The way he looked as if he would die on the spot when I said I wanted him in my mouth.
We never did that. God I regretted it, almost as much as I regretted him not taking my virginity.
Never finding out what he felt like in my mouth, hearing his sounds of pleasure as I explored him, licking and tasting.
Never finding out what his tongue felt like between my thighs, how hard I could come on his mouth.
I still want to know what that feels like.
I want to find out with him—and I can’t. It’ll never be him.
My eyes well with tears even as my climax surges, pleasure and pain wrapping together in my body the way it always did with him. The two are inseparable when it comes to Elio—desire and hurt, pleasure and pain, need and denial. I can’t have one without the other, and I never will.
I loved you, I think, as the pleasure ripples through me. I loved you, and you left me.