Chapter Seven #2
Downstairs, she could understand. Her dad might have a scattering of photos from the last twenty-nine years on the fridge, but the few framed ones were in the upstairs hallway.
He didn’t take meetings in their house, but some habits die hard, and displaying his weakness—Charlie—went against the grain.
But to have no photos at all?
That spoke volumes about the family that lived in this place.
She turned back to the stairs. What else will I find if I do some snooping?
Aiden and the O’Malleys weren’t technically the enemy, but she’d have to be a fool twice over to take whatever information he decided to feed her without questioning it.
Meeting his siblings last night had only driven home what the stakes were—and the fact that the knife in the darkness coming for her might not be held by a Romanov but an O’Malley. Or a Halloran. Or a Sheridan.
Charlie didn’t want to admit that her dad was right and that she was in over her head, but it was sure as hell starting to feel that way.
She walked to the stairs and peered over the railing.
Raised voices—Aiden and Cillian—but they were muffled enough that she couldn’t pick out the words.
She doubted she could make it down the stairs and to the office door to eavesdrop without their realizing she was there and turning the conversation to safe topics, so she headed toward the back of the house.
There had to be a second stairwell around here somewhere.
The temptation to explore the closed doors lining the hallway rose, but she held back.
There were two doors—Aiden’s and another—on this leg of the hallway, before it took a hard right turn.
Charlie walked to the corner and counted another three doors before the hallway turned again, creating a U shape. Seven rooms…for seven children?
She looked at the room across from Aiden’s and opened the door before she could talk herself out of it.
She stopped just inside the doorframe, inhaling a spicy feminine scent.
The décor was the very definition of luxury, the big white bed looking soft enough to swallow a person whole, and the dresser along the opposite wall scattered with expensive-looking jewelry and perfume bottles.
The decorations were too…understated to belong to Keira.
She didn’t know much about the other sister—Sloan—but Charlie bet this room had belonged to Carrigan.
From Liam’s brief family history, the woman hadn’t lived here in almost two years.
And yet her room looked as fresh as it would have if she’d just stepped out this morning.
“What are you doing?”
Charlie didn’t jump, but it was a near thing.
She glanced over her shoulder at Aiden, noting that he stared at her and pointedly didn’t look around the room she stood in.
It didn’t matter that he gave nothing away with his expression or body language—the information was as clear in what he didn’t do as what he did. So much baggage there. “I was curious.”
“Curiosity killed the cat.”
She snorted. “And satisfaction brought him back—which isn’t quite the same kind of warning.”
“Funny.” His tone said he found her anything but. He stepped backward, a clear demand for her to join him in the hallway. That was all she needed to confirm the room had belonged to Carrigan.
Charlie closed the door softly behind her. The move left her close enough to touch Aiden, but she hesitated, not sure where they stood after last night. He’d driven her to ecstasy more times than she could count…but he’d never kissed her.
Makes sense. Kissing is far more intimate than sex when it comes right down to it.
Being logical did nothing to dull the sting—and neither did knowing she had no right to be hurt.
He wanted her body. He didn’t want her. Which should suit her just fine.
She liked the way Aiden filled out a suit, but she couldn’t pretend there was a path that ended with them together.
Dishonored or not, she was a cop in a long line of cops, and he was a mob boss who wasn’t suddenly going to go straight.
She needed to remember that.
“Snooping?”
She shrugged, doing her best not to stare at his mouth. Just sex…Right. “I got bored. I’m not used to sitting on my hands.”
His green eyes softened, just a little. “I have just the thing.”
Or maybe she was imagining things.
“Oh? More shopping?” She didn’t need or want more, and if he suggested such a blatantly bullshit activity, she’d have to start some trouble on principle.
“Hardly.” Aiden shook his head and turned, waiting for her to fall into step next to him before he walked down the hallway in the opposite direction from the stairs. “You met my sister last night.”
“Which one?” But she knew which one he meant as they took first one turn and then the next. “Keira.”
The youngest sister, the one who’d fled at the sight of her. Promising.
Then again, she was preferable to Carrigan, who seemed inclined to go for her throat.
Charlie had a significant amount of training, but she couldn’t say beyond a shadow of a doubt that she’d walk away from a violent encounter with that woman.
Carrigan had the feel of someone who fought dirty and fought to win.
“Yes. Keira.” Aiden paused in front of the last door. It faced the front of the house, and Charlie nearly rolled her eyes. The window opened to both a tree and a fire escape. Convenient way for the twenty-one-year-old woman to escape whenever she saw fit.
“Why don’t you move her room if she’s causing such issues?”
His mouth thinned, the slightest of tells. She’d bet a ton of money that his little sister followed the tradition of little sisters everywhere—giving their older brothers no end of trouble. “It’s complicated.”
Obviously, he wasn’t going to bend over backward to explain things to Charlie.
Fine. She didn’t need to know about the inner workings of the O’Malley family or details about the wounds than ran so deep they seemed to be splintering the siblings apart.
She wasn’t really engaged to Aiden. It wasn’t her job to fix the broken people in this house.
She wouldn’t be here long enough to try, even if she was interested.
Charlie knew what it was like to have a family fall apart, but it still seemed like such a waste.
She’d never had siblings—she’d never had anyone but her dad.
Aiden had five living siblings and he seemed to only have regular contact with two of them.
She couldn’t help comparing their situations.
Even with the limited information she had, it was clear Teague, Carrigan, and Sloan had more or less fled the O’Malleys because of their father.
Aiden could mend those fences. Carrigan, especially, wouldn’t have been so furious about his getting “engaged” to Charlie if she didn’t still care about him.
But he didn’t seem interested in even trying.
She just didn’t get it.
“So what is it that you need from me?” There. That made her sound just as perfectly polite and disinterested as he was acting.
From the sharp look he sent her, it wasn’t quite what she was aiming for. “My sister is a key part of keeping Romanov occupied while we get the other pieces into place. She can’t do that if she’s trying to sneak off every time I turn around.”
Comprehension dawned. “You want me to babysit your self-destructive sister?” She wasn’t sure what she found more irritating—that he wanted her to play babysitter or that he hadn’t just come out and asked her in the first place.
He sighed. “I want you to talk to her, to spend time with her and, yes, to keep her from getting in over her head in the meantime.”
“You know, you don’t have to handle me. I’m not one of your siblings, or an employee.
We’re in this together.” She turned so she wouldn’t give in to the temptation to watch his face for a flicker of the man beneath the mask.
The door looked like every other one in the hallway, except for the punk music coming through loud enough to shake the walls.
She counted to ten, but Aiden didn’t seem all that inclined to jump in. “And what about after?”
“After.”
It wasn’t quite a question, but she still glanced at him. Or maybe she was just weak and he was a pretty puzzle that fascinated her far more than he had a right to. “What about after we take down Romanov? What happens to Keira then?”
“It won’t matter, because you won’t be here to see it.” He turned on his heel and stalked away, leaving her staring after him, her stomach in knots.
Not going to be here. Just pretend. God, Charlie, stop forgetting that.
One day and she was already having trouble telling reality from pretend.
It was like she’d tumbled into the twilight zone, and up was down and down was up.
Nothing made sense anymore. She shouldn’t care what Aiden thought of her or if he was as eager to see the back of her as he was to see his enemy brought down.
It shouldn’t matter.
But it kind of did.