Chapter 11
Amy
I’m laying on a big bed with Kerry on top of me.
The purple sheets of the bed suit him, as he looks like a king over me and I’m his throne.
His muscles tighten and contract with every roll of his hips, and the sounds he’s making are delicious.
Deep, guttural groans like he’s relishing the feel of my body.
Like he’s been searching for heaven, and he’s found it inside of me.
It makes me feel powerful, knowing that this wicked and dangerous man, who could get almost any woman he wanted, enjoys being with me most of all.
The way he looks down at me, his pupils blown wide, his face twisted with pleasure as his eyes are locked on mine, makes me feel wanted. Desired. Hell, even needed.
It’s addicting.
So when I wake up, my mouth dry and tangled in the hotel bed’s sheet, my pajamas soaked from my arousal, I sit up and swear.
That wasn’t in my plan. But it seems my little meeting with him yesterday, as difficult as it was, sparked something primal in me.
Something I don’t want to address quite yet.
My monkey brain has apparently decided that it likes the danger of this man and finds it erotic.
Which is dumb. Especially since I’m pretty sure this guy doesn’t plan for it to be a full marriage like that and will probably have a ton of side chicks.
I’m not sure he even really liked me after yesterday’s meeting with him.
There’s a loud pounding on my door first thing in the morning.
Thankfully, I’m already awake, otherwise it would’ve scared the daylights out of me.
I’m dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants because I’m not planning on going anywhere today.
Nope. Nada. I feel exhausted after my ordeal yesterday and I need a break.
That, and I’m hiding from him. Yeah, I’m not ashamed to admit it.
I need a break from this whole situation, which includes him.
Not only am I being forced to marry him, he also scares me, and I need to feel safe, even if just for the day.
Especially after that dream, which oddly made things worse for me.
I’m not sure I’m safe from my own damn brain at this point.
Besides, what am I going to do? Go back downstairs to the boutiques and beg for them to give me attention and find something in my size, no matter what it is? Anything for a poor little street urchin like me? But don’t worry, my loaded grandparents are going to pay for it?
Yeah, right. I’d rather not.
So when I open the door to see my stern grandfather’s face glaring down at me, I’m already dreading whatever’s about to happen.
But…I admit, part of me wondered if it’d be him instead.
And the disappointment I feel makes my stomach churn just a little.
Why the hell am I disappointed? The mixed emotions are real.
“We have a busy day ahead of us. Put a proper outfit on and come back out. I’ll be waiting down in the lobby. Don’t keep me waiting.” He doesn’t wait for me to reply, but instead marches off to the elevators.
I check my phone. I haven’t received any texts.
There was no communication, no warning. Tension is already building at the base of my skull.
I don’t know what we’ll be doing, and how he’s demanding and controlling me is already stressing me out despite only talking to me for ten seconds.
He said we have a ‘busy day ahead of us’.
Does that mean I’ll be out with him all day?
That stresses me out even more.
But I dutifully change into jeans and a sweater.
Thankfully I charged my phone overnight, so it’s full battery.
Otherwise I’d be really stressed without the ability to call for help if I need it.
I feel frantic, struggling to go over everything I may need for an entire day out.
But if I don’t know what we’ll be doing, then how can I plan for what I might need?
I’m hungry, as I hadn’t ordered room service yet, but I have no idea if we’re going to eat or not. I grab my wallet, ensuring I have my phone, and triple check that my room key is in my pocket. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself.
I can’t keep my grandfather waiting, or he’ll probably yell at me.
My anxiety spikes at the thought, imagining him causing a scene with me in his anger.
All my life, my grandfather seemed disinterested in me, but ever since this whole marriage thing it feels like he blames me for what seems to be a mess he could have avoided.
Isn’t he in charge here anyway? I’m nothing more than a scapegoat, aren’t I?
My thoughts keep me busy as I take the short elevator trip from my third-floor room to the main floor lobby.
I find him easily enough there sipping a coffee in a to-go cup. “Let’s go. I have a lot to get done today.” He walks quickly, and I have to power walk to keep up. I wonder if he’s trying to be difficult on purpose.
There’s a car waiting for us out front, and my grandfather gets in the front passenger seat, slamming the door behind him.
I open the back with clammy hands, sliding in.
The driver is a big man with scarring on his face and a bald head.
His cheap cologne fills the car and I wrinkle my nose in disgust. As soon as I close the door behind me, the driver takes off, leaving me scrambling to get my seat belt on, even though the big man and my grandfather aren’t wearing them.
Right. Because why would they obey even that law? I roll my eyes. Seems like a stupid rule to break if you saw the devastation that not wearing one can cause. But hey, if we wreck, at least I know I’ll probably live.
Okay, maybe not with how this guy is driving. Holy smokes.
The car takes a jerky turn through the busy New York traffic. Other drivers in nearby cars honk at us. My grandfather talks in low tones to the driver. They’re discussing business stuff, nothing I can particularly understand. Nothing about me or the arrangement.
Until the driver speaks up in his gruff tone. “So, why do we have a shadow today?” I’m pretty sure he’s talking about me.
“Alasdair wants her acclimated to our world. Make sure her little bubble of shelter is popped. So she’s going to follow me today and get used to how things work around here.” My grandfather rubs a hand over his face. “No matter how irritating it is.”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, feeling a heavy feeling of shame in my chest. My own grandfather didn’t even want me around. It’s a painful revelation, even if I had pieced that together after a long time of his indifference towards me.
The big man chuckles. “Jesus. We’re about to go question a bunch of men and probably pop ‘em. That’s a lot for someone who isn’t used to things. You’re really throwing her in the deep end, aren’t you?”
I feel my entire body go cold. They’re doing what? With me in tow? No, no, no. I can’t see that. I don’t want to see that!
Saving my family’s lives is one thing, but being a witness to a murder? Or…murders…? Jesus, that’s another. My lip trembles just thinking about it. I want to speak up, to beg for them to leave me out of it, to take me back to the hotel. But I can’t get the words out.
My grandfather sighs. “Alasdair’s pool is a lot deeper. She’ll thank me for exposing her to this kind of stuff before she’s alone with him in Ireland.”
“When’s he taking her?”
“He wants the wedding to be next week. I’m sure they’ll go back to Ireland shortly after.”
Next week? I’m going to be married to him next week? None of this is normal. None of it is good. It shows just how much this isn’t about me. No one gives a whit about what I want. I’m not even picking my own wedding date.
They’re talking about me like I’m not even here. It’s almost humiliating, but I’m learning more information from it than I would if they weren’t talking, so I’m not going to complain. Not that I would anyways. I’m too damn scared, and my thoughts are too loud.
At that short of a timeline, it’s not going to be anything special.
I’m not going to have any time to plan anything at all, even if I was allowed to.
Even if I wanted to. Which, based on how things have gone so far, I doubt that anyone would even bother to ask what I want.
But hey, what bride cares about what her wedding is like, after all?
Is this what the rest of my life is going to be like? My opinions and feelings won’t matter? My dreams and aspirations pushed to the side? No one even bothers to ask?
If I’m being honest, that’s kind of what my life is like anyway, but at least before I could separate myself from my family and just…be alone. If no one is around, no one tramples over me.
But now I didn’t even have a choice. I’d be married, and my husband won’t even care to ask what I want. Ever.
The driver and my grandfather talk for a few more minutes, but I mostly tune them out.
My grandfather takes time to complain about the Irish Demon a lot.
From what I hear, he doesn’t really like him.
Last night, Kerry apparently threatened him in some way again, so now my grandfather is venting his frustration.
He also curses about someone named Marshall.
We go outside the city, and it takes a good hour. I don’t say a word the entire time, and neither of the men address me.
When we finally pull off the road, it’s at some run-down restaurant. I feel like I’m going to be sick as my grandfather gets out with the driver. He taps on the glass of my window. “Out.”
I feel my hands shaking as I open the door and step out. My grandfather closes the door once I’m barely out of it, almost hitting me with it. He follows after the driver, who’s already gone inside of the restaurant. Maybe we’re going to get some lunch first? A girl can hope. I’m starving.
My grandfather tosses his coffee cup on the gravel before stepping inside. Littering now, too? Really? I give a soft sigh, not loud enough for my grandfather to hear.