Chapter 13
Alina
Idon’t know what I expected.
Most of the men in my family’s organization live in decent homes, at least the highest-ranking members. They send their kids to private schools, drive nice cars, and eat at good restaurants.
I’m not sure why I thought Seamus might be an exception.
His neighborhood’s outside of Manhattan. I don’t love that. I’ve been in the city all my life. It’s a good part of Brooklyn, though, and I like the artisanal coffee shops and the local vibe. Not really what I picture a gangster’s home turf might look like.
“I can’t tell if you’re happy or ready to scream,” he says as he lets me into a very nice brownstone. “Maybe a little bit of both?”
“I’m reserving my feelings for now.”
The entryway is simple but lovingly maintained.
The floors are original, and there are lots of details from its initial construction.
The bay windows still have that big, brown trim, but the walls have been scraped of wallpaper and coated with white.
There’s a plant in one corner, a mirror on another, and a few boring landscapes hanging here and there.
The furnishings are expensive and minimal, but a little barren.
“I’d give you the tour, but you seem to be finding everything perfectly fine on your own.”
I ignore him as I shuffle through the kitchen and the living area. “How much time do you spend here, exactly?”
“That’s an odd question.”
“Not really.” I run my fingers along the edge of a cabinet. They come back dusty. “Gross.”
“Ah, yes, sorry, I don’t clean every single corner of my place all the time. Don’t look behind the refrigerator. You might faint.”
I head upstairs. The master room is decent, if a little lacking in personality.
The spare rooms are practically empty. One looks like a miniature gym, and another is an office.
He’s got a huge desk, entirely made from wood, like something from the set of Mad Men.
It’s actually a beautiful piece, but I don’t tell him that.
I find him waiting for me downstairs. He pours two glasses of wine and pushes one toward me. “Well? Final verdict?”
“It’s not the worst house I’ve ever seen.”
He sighs like he’s in total bliss. “The greatest compliment ever.”
“What do you want from me, exactly? We’re out in the middle of nowhere.”
“It’s Brooklyn, not Ohio.”
“And I’d rather die than live in Ohio.”
“How dare you insult the great Buckeye State.”
I take my wine and drink some. I know this whole exercise was a stupid show. I was always going to come live with him here, at least part-time. I’m pretending like the state of his house matters, but honestly, it really doesn’t.
I’m not that shallow.
I just don’t want him to know it.
It’s easier if he sees me as some spoiled bratva princess.
“I’ll give it a try. Three nights, starting next week.”
“You’re incredibly generous.”
“I’m trying to compromise, okay?”
“No, you’re right, and I appreciate that.” He holds up his glass. “Here’s to new beginnings and to Brooklyn.”
“Here’s to the real city.”
He laughs as we toast and drink.
We hang around his place for a couple of hours before I get an Uber back home. It started out a little tense, but seeing his house and talking to him about his life there wasn’t really that bad. When we’re not actively hating each other, we get along pretty well.
I’m in a good mood when I get back to my apartment building.
I’m optimistic and thinking maybe this whole marriage thing might work out after all.
Sure, it hasn’t been easy. There was a casual murder during the ceremony, and Seamus is making decisions about our life without talking to me about them first.
But hey, what marriage doesn’t have issues?
Maybe my good mood is why I let out a bloodcurdling scream when I step into my apartment and find him waiting for me in the kitchen.
My heart slams against my chest. It feels like my cheeks and feet go completely numb. Seamus’s eyebrows just raise in surprise as he sips liquor from a glass while I struggle to maintain my composure.
“You scared the crap out of me!” I throw my keys down on the table and slam the door shut behind me. “What are you doing here? And how did you get in?”
“This was a demonstration.” He finishes his drink and places it down.
“Your security is bad. Your doorman wasn’t paying attention.
I snuck past him and got on the elevator.
I picked the locks on your door, which I’ll admit were actually halfway decent.
They took me five whole minutes. That left me with some time to spare, so I poured myself this nice scotch. Thank you, by the way.”
I seethe as I gather myself. What is wrong with this man? We’ve been talking about a murderer coming to hurt me, and now he’s breaking into my apartment and giving me a heart attack like it’s some kind of PBS life lesson.
“I thought you were staying at your place tonight.”
“You did?” His eyebrows raise in mock surprise. “I don’t know why. We never discussed it.”
“This is another example of you not communicating with me.”
“Actually, this is an example of how fun and exciting life with me can be.” He finishes his drink and gets up with a sigh. He stretches languidly, but I’m too pissed to enjoy his physique.
“Right, I get it, you made your point.” I’m talking through my teeth. I’ve never been this frustrated in my life. “My security is bad. You can go now.”
“But your security is bad,” he says, pretending to sound innocent. “How could I possibly leave my darling wife behind in a death trap like this?”
“Seamus, I swear to God—”
“Don’t bring him into this.”
“I just want ten minutes of peace without you in my own home. Is that too much to ask?”
“Right now, yes, it is.” He casually strolls over to me. The man glides like a predator. He’s graceful and strong. “I have to be here to protect you.”
“It’s always protecting with you.” I rub my forehead. “What if I’m not actually in danger? What if the killings have nothing to do with me?”
“Better safe than sorry.”
“I’m sorry right now.”
“That doesn’t count.” He stops next to me. I’m shaking slightly as he brushes a thumb across my cheek, moving a stray hair from my face. “Come on. We should get some rest.”
“You can get rest down here.”
“I can’t keep an eye on you from the couch.”
“I’m not sleeping on the couch in my own house, and there’s no way we’re sharing a bed. Not after this bizarre little display.”
“Sounds like we have a problem.” He smirks at me and puts a hand on my hip. I try not to tremble, but whenever he gets close, I’m always inches from losing myself. He’s like a weight on my chest, driving me down and down into stupid mindless lust. “Come to bed with me, Alina.”
I’m tempted. He doesn’t even have to try hard. Just touch me a little and throw out one tiny command. Come to bed with me. I want to do it because I know how he can make me feel. The things this man can do to my body.
But I have too much pride.
“You’re staying on your side.” I brush his hand away. It’s not easy. “And you’re keeping your hands to yourself.”
“Whatever my wife wants, she gets.”
“We both know that isn’t true.”
“It could be.” The way he stares at me is like a question. Just ask. I’ll give it to you. It’s a promise of something dark and good. It’s physical, and I want it more than I’ve wanted anything in my life.
But if I keep tangling myself with him, I’m going to start making more compromises until one day I’ll wake up and I won’t recognize anything about my life. It’ll all be him, and I don’t want that.
I’ve always had control. Or at least I’ve been good at lying to myself over the years. Now Seamus is muscling his way into my world with his chaotic good looks and his confidence. It drives me crazy.
It makes me want to kiss him until his lips are bloody.
Which is something I bet we’d both enjoy.