Chapter 6
AOIFE
He carries me towards the entrance like I’m weightless, cradling me against his chest like I’m the most precious possession he owns.
Maybe I am, given how badly his rival wanted me.
‘I’ll get security to set up your fingerprint recognition ASAP,’ he promises, pressing a thumb to a keypad to the right of the glass doors, and they slide open.
‘That way you can come and go around the house and gardens. Don’t leave the grounds without me, or security, yet.
Our union will start a war. It’s imperative that you don’t become collateral.
’ Dark, thunderous storm clouds roll through his eyes.
Inside, glass ceilings soar overhead, rising into double-height atriums. Sunlight pours down through steel-framed skylights and transparent roof panels, scattering across pale stone floors and soft timber walls.
Trailing plants spill from suspended planters and upper walkways, softening the clean architectural lines until the entire place feels alive.
This isn’t a criminal’s lair.
It’s an oasis—his oasis.
My eyes drift over the décor, then back to my saviour—the biggest sinner in the city.
He strides through to a large, bright, open-plan kitchen and places me on the white marble kitchen counter.
My legs dangle against the cabinets. I need to get this fucking dress off, but it’s not like I even have anything to put on.
I have nothing but the clothes on my body.
My purse is in the suite at the Shelbourne, and I’m under no illusion about being reunited with it anytime soon.
I am completely and utterly dependent on the man in front of me.
The man who is staring at me with an intensity that sucks the air clean out of my lungs.
I meet his gaze.
‘You hungry?’ he asks.
I think about it for a second. I’m not actually hungry but given everything that’s happened today, if I don’t eat, I might pass out, so I nod.
‘Sandwich?’ He turns his back to me, long strong legs eating up the distance to hover in front of an American-style fridge. He opens it, grabs a plate, then saunters back to me again. Thick cut sandwiches are stacked up in a pile: ham, tuna, cheese, and chicken, all on various types of bread.
‘Did you make these?’ My eyebrows wing up as he pulls back the cling film and holds them out to me. I take one tentatively.
He places the plate down on the counter beside me. ‘No, my housekeeper did.’
Housekeeper. Of course. A man like Dominic Kincaid wouldn’t cook or clean. He’s too busy terrorising the city and flooding the streets with drugs.
‘Speaking of which,’ he plucks his phone from his pocket.
‘I need to make a couple of calls.’ He strides back out to the hallway and my treacherous eyes are drawn to his ass in those suit pants.
I’m only human. And he is absolutely devastating to look at.
Deadly, but utterly devastating. I’d do well to remember it.
What the hell am I doing here?
I suck in a breath.
Panic threatens to rise behind my ribcage again.
Surviving.
That’s what you’re doing.
I hop off the counter, wincing as my cut feet tentatively pad the spacious kitchen. At least they’re not bleeding now.
Huge windows overlook the vast lawns. Double doors at the far end of the room lead out onto a pale paved terrace complete with a twenty foot swimming pool and plush white sun loungers with thick, luxurious looking mattresses. Crime clearly pays. I pace the floor slowly, soaking it all in.
Dominic strides back in a few minutes later. He pushes his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. ‘Sorry, I had to take care of some business.’
‘What type of business?’ I blurt. It’s a bold question. One I’m not sure he’ll answer. Again, that mouth of mine moved before I could stop it.
His thick eyebrows knit together as he strides towards me. ‘If you have any hope of walking away from this marriage, you’re better off not knowing.’
‘You will let me walk away when the time comes?’ I double check, peering up at his huge physique.
It’s true, becoming a Kincaid will offer protection like nothing else. But when Rory Kavanagh is no longer hunting me, I need to get back to building a life of my own. Teaching. Working. Living somewhere far from the memories of my childhood and all the loss and grief associated with it.
‘I told you, Aoife. I don’t hurt women.’ A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. ‘Well,’ he drawls, folding his arms across his muscular chest, ‘only the ones who beg me to.’ Those lips lift into a full-on smirk. ‘But I always make sure the pleasure far outweighs any pain.’
I cough, thumping my chest in a feeble attempt not to choke.
His eyes gleam with pure devilment, and he takes a tentative step closer.
He’s joking right?
He has to be.
Or else the man I’ve just agreed to marry is not only a violent psycho, but some sort of kinky fucker too.
Fuck. My. Life.
Is he some sort of Dominant?
Thankfully, I’ll never find out. That’s not part of our arrangement.
Heat hijacks my cheeks, and his deep, low laughter rings between the short distance between us. ‘The blushing bride.’
He gestures to the plate of sandwiches on the kitchen counter. ‘Come on, let’s get some food into you, then I’ll give you a tour.’
He reaches for the plate and pushes it under my nose.
I pick a sourdough cheese and chutney sandwich, and he nods in approval, reaching for one himself.
He motions towards the kitchen island. Two high-backed stools are wedged beneath the marble counter.
‘Sit. You may as well get comfortable. This is your home now.’
I do as he suggests before my legs buckle and give out on me completely.
Dominic places the plate in the centre of the counter, fetches two glasses of water, then slides into the seat beside me. ‘We’re going to have to come up with a believable story to sell our relationship to my family,’ he says gruffly.
I twist my head to meet his eye. ‘I’m not a good liar.’ I admit. ‘You might have noticed my mouth opens and anything is liable to stream out.’
His lips tip up. ‘It’ll be easier if we keep it as close to the truth as possible.
You stumbled into Dom’s bar.’ His pupils gleam.
‘The chemistry between us was so painful and instantaneous, you agreed to stay and have a drink with me.’ He flicks a hand towards the half-eaten plate of sandwiches.
‘A drink turned into lunch… and the rest is history.’ He reaches for his glass, eyeing me over the rim of it.
‘Although, just so you know, if this were a real first date, I’d have taken you somewhere very different. ’
My stomach swoops. I force myself not to imagine where a man like Dominic would take a woman on a first date. It’s not helpful. ‘What about your brothers? They know that’s not how it happened.’
‘My brothers would die for me, let alone lie for me. They won’t breathe a word of it to anyone, trust me.’ He’s so confident, I believe him.
Silence spans between us as we eat side by side.
Finally, he turns to me. ‘Come on, time for the tour, and then I’ll show you our bedroom.’
‘Our bedroom?’ I repeat like a moron. ‘You can’t be serious.’
His eyes meet mine again. ‘I told you, Aoife, it’s imperative my family believe our relationship is real, or there will be consequences for both of us.’ He tips his head to the side. ‘I have a lot of staff. They talk.’
Could this day get any worse?