Chapter Two #2
She jumped. The town house they’d pulled in front of was a monster. It reeked of money and pretentiousness, the massive front door sending a very clear message to people like her: You are not welcome. She didn’t come from money, but she’d encountered it enough to recognize it on sight.
I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.
Charlie climbed out of the town car, fighting the urge to throw herself into the backseat and demand that Liam take her back to New York.
No matter what her former brothers in the NYPD thought of her, she wasn’t a coward.
She could walk into this situation and be cool and collected, and not lose her head and do something reckless. She would.
Taking down Dmitri Romanov wouldn’t restore her good name, regain her father’s respect, or give her life back, but it was better than the alternative. Wasting her life away playing poker.
Before she could reconsider, she strode across the sidewalk and up the stairs.
She hesitated for half a second, wondering if she should knock, but if she was supposedly Aiden O’Malley’s fiancée, this would be her home.
She would rule at his side. Her stomach fluttered, but she wasn’t sure if it was nerves or flat-out fear.
This isn’t for real. I’m playing a part, not diving headfirst into the dark side. Dad would—
But she couldn’t think about her father without her chest twisting into knots.
There wasn’t a more by-the-book man than John Finch.
For her father, there were no shades of gray—there was only black and white, right and wrong.
He wouldn’t approve of this plan, and if he found out she was “engaged” to Aiden O’Malley, he might arrest her himself.
She didn’t know what he’d charge her with, but her dad could be a genius when it came to the law.
“Charlotte?”
She realized she was standing on the top step, staring blankly at the massive door before her. Get it together. She dredged up a smile for Liam. “Charlie. Please. No one calls me Charlotte unless I’m in trouble.”
He nodded, but he studied her like she was a bug under a microscope. “You don’t have to do this, you know. He’d find another way if you changed your mind.”
She hadn’t known him long, but she recognized the words as the truth.
Whatever Aiden’s endgame, he wouldn’t let a little speed bump like her bolting affect his plan.
In reality, though, it wasn’t about him.
It came down to her—her and Dmitri Romanov.
She may have never met the man face-to-face, but she’d seen his dirty work the few short years she’d worked as a cop.
She’d seen how he’d benefited from cops turning against everything they were supposed to stand for.
They chose that. Those cops compromised their honor of their own free will.
She knew that. Romanov hadn’t put a gun to their heads and forced them into anything—he’d just offered a truly outstanding amount of money for them to look the other way when it suited him.
It made her sick to think about.
“I know.” She gave Liam a weak smile. Then she took a deep breath, opened the door, and walked into the O’Malley home.
* * *
Keira O’Malley froze at the bottom of the stairs as the woman walked into their house like she owned the place.
She was pretty in an alternative sort of way, her long white-blond hair pulled back to reveal that her temple was shaved on one side, and though she wore a designer dress, she didn’t look comfortable in it.
More than that, though, she was a fucking stranger. “Who the hell are you?”
That was when she caught sight of Liam at the woman’s back.
Keira waited, sure that he’d toss this chick out on her ass, but he just followed her inside and shut the door behind him.
He shot Keira a look like she was the one out of line.
“Keira, meet Charlotte—Charlie. This is Aiden’s fiancée.
Charlie, this is Keira, Aiden’s youngest sister. ”
Keira clutched at the banister to keep from toppling over.
She searched Liam’s face, but there wasn’t any amusement to indicate that this was a goddamn joke.
She shook her head, but it didn’t do a single thing to stop the rushing in her ears.
Aiden’s fiancée? When had her brother found time to get engaged?
Does everyone know about this except me?
She turned without another word and marched up the stairs. Every single fucking person in her family was looking out for themselves first. If Aiden thought she was going to sit here like a good girl until he shipped her off to be the slave-bride of Dmitri Romanov…
Her traitorous body warmed at the thought of what, exactly, would be required of her if she married Dmitri. He was beautiful in the way of fallen angels, even if he was an evil bastard. God had really broken the mold with that one—or he would have, if she believed in God anymore.
Something terrifyingly like a sob lurched in her chest, and she broke into a run the rest of the way to her room. No one called after her, no one chased her down to see if she was okay. It wasn’t self-pity that drove her to the window of her room and had her wrenching it open. It wasn’t.
That’s always been my problem. I feel too damn much.
Sometimes she feared all the feelings would suck her under and she’d never see the light again.
The only thing that kept the sea at bay was the drugs and alcohol.
She’d dialed it back a little—she’d had to because Aiden had cut off her money and she wasn’t desperate enough to trade other things for coke.
But getting through the day stone-cold sober?
Out of the question.
Keira shimmied out the window, ripping her jeans in the process, but she managed to climb onto the fire escape that ran down the building a few feet over.
It groaned beneath her weight, but it held, just like it always had.
Through it all, one word drummed through her head in time with her heart.
Free, free, free. It was a lie. Everything in that house was a lie these days.
Maybe it always had been.
She slowed her pace as she rounded the corner, keeping her head down, determined not to bring attention to herself.
Despite what Aiden thought, she knew how to fly beneath notice when it suited her.
Keira brought out her phone and scrolled through the handful of texted invitations tonight, and picked the closest one.
She wasn’t trying to endanger herself, but staying in that house a second longer than necessary was more than she could bear.
It won’t be my house for much longer.
Marriage. She’d always known that was the role she would be required to play.
She’d gone so far as to offer it last year when she’d witnessed Dmitri’s ultimatum.
A small, dark part of her figured being a wife to that man was nothing more than she deserved.
An even smaller part of her had flickered to life when she had gotten close to him those two times, but that flame had died when she realized that he wasn’t coming around for her.
He was sending a message to her brother.
He didn’t want her. Not really. He needed her to secure his position—and to put her family in their place.
“Enough. I’m so goddamn tired of feeling sorry for myself.” Feeling anything at all, really.
She made good time walking to the party, slipping through the door and moving into the crowd that had already gathered.
It was being held in the basement of an old club.
She recognized about half the people there, though she’d never go so far as to call them friends.
They were here for the same reason she was—to forget their shitty lives for a little bit.
A guy she’d seen around often enough that she should know his name approached, a broad grin on his face. “If it isn’t my favorite bitch.”
She accepted the vodka bottle he passed over, pausing to check the seal. It hadn’t been tampered with. That’s something, at least. She peeled off the plastic around the cap and nodded. “Thanks.”
“I know your rules.” He grinned, his gaze skating over her in a way that made her skin crawl.
A year ago, maybe she would have taken him up on the nonverbal offer, but now she couldn’t trust that whoever she went home with wasn’t working for an enemy.
And besides, after she’d gotten tangled up with Dmitri, no one had sparked her interest enough to risk it.
Keira wove through the crowd to the couches lining the wall.
There were people fucking on most of them, but one was empty.
She dropped onto the thin cushion and took a long pull off the bottle.
Blessed burning shot down her throat and warmed her stomach in a way nothing else seemed to be able to.
She took her first full breath since Aiden had called her into his office.
But she hadn’t come here to think about that.
She took another longer drink, her need to breathe battling with her need to forget.
“Keira O’Malley.”
She eyed the man who appeared at her side as she took another swig of vodka.
He didn’t fit here. He was too still, too watchful.
That would have given him away, even if his Russian accent hadn’t.
She slowly lowered the bottle, barely resisting the urge to scan the room to see if he had come.
It doesn’t matter. I hate him, remember?
Sure she did.
The man crossed his arms over his chest, and a flash of metal showed beneath his jacket. “Mr. Romanov would like to speak to you.”
“No.”
He gave a slow blink, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. “That wasn’t a request.”
“I don’t care.” She studied the label on the vodka.
It was cheap shit, tasting more like rubbing alcohol than the stuff her brother had in their liquor cabinet.
When it was clear the man was about to threaten her, she pinned him with a look.
“From what I understand, I’ll be marrying that Russian bastard.
So let’s start this correctly. If he wants my presence, he can damn well tell me himself instead of sending one of his butchers to summon me like a naughty child.
” Her words started slurring toward the end, but she bore down, forcing clarity for a few moments more.
“You can pass that along—and tell him if he really wants my attention, he should bring some of the good stuff.” She motioned to the bottle.
“Now get the fuck out of here. I’m tired of looking at your face. ”
Dmitri Romanov might have tempted her once upon a time, but he was just another shade of O’Malley or Sheridan or Halloran. They were all the same, and she was so goddamn done with the petty power games.
There wasn’t a single thing he could do to her that hadn’t already been done.
She had nothing left to lose.