Chapter 11
AOIFE
Sunlight seeps lazily through the gap in the blinds, warming my face just enough to drag me out of sleep.
For a few disorienting seconds, I have no idea where I am.
I force my eyes open, taking in the luxury surrounding me, registering the Egyptian cotton sheets sliding against my skin, and I remember exactly whose house I’m in—and why.
I bolt upright, holding the covers over my chest, and scan the room.
Silence.
Opulence.
Safety.
I squint towards the couch at the far end of the room.
A blanket is thrown across the far end, and the cushion is slightly off centre.
That’s the only clue that he slept there.
I glance down to check I’m still wearing a shirt.
I had to find something to sleep in. It’s not like I had a lot else to wear.
After dinner last night, I made my excuses. I was exhausted, but that wasn’t why I left.
It was him.
Dominic unnerves me—and not just because of his reputation.
Of two things, I’m certain.
One—I’m living with a killer.
And two—I am painfully attracted to him anyway. Like a female deer in rutting season, I’m apparently hard-wired to seek out strength—the kind that wins battles, holds ground, and makes the world feel survivable when everything else is falling apart.
And that’s unwittingly exactly what I did when I ran into Dom’s bar yesterday.
When his finger brushed mine over dinner last night, I thought I’d accidentally touched the candle instead of the salad bowl.
But I know what he’s capable of.
He should horrify me, and he does, partly, but I can’t deny he intrigues me too—as much as I don’t want him to. I didn’t expect him to be… kind.
I spent the entire evening battling between wanting to hate him and wondering what it would be like to kiss him.
I’m going to need years of intense therapy when I finally get out of here.
I roll out of bed. My feet meet the thick, lavish carpet. I glance down at them. The wounds are clean and closed—thanks to him. I pad across to the wardrobe where my new dresses are hanging, pick out the lemon yellow one, and some of the expensive silk lingerie.
When I’m ready, I creep down the wide staircase, feeling like an imposter amongst this opulence. It’s eerily silent as I cross the pale stone floors towards the kitchen in search of coffee.
‘Good morning.’ Dominic is leaning against the kitchen counter, cradling a white mug. It looks tiny in his huge hand.
‘Morning,’ I freeze in the doorway. Our eyes meet.
‘Did you sleep well?’ He pushes off the counter, strides to the coffee machine, and reaches for a mug from the overhead cabinet.
When he stretches, his shirt rides up at the front, and I get a flash of his taut, tanned stomach and the smattering of dark hair dusting his skin, trailing into the waistband of his suit pants.
‘Aoife?’ He twists his head to look at me. I tear my eyes from his body, but not fast enough. A small smirk twists his lips.
‘Yes,’ I squeak. ‘After the events of the day and the wine, my nervous system finally gave out on me.’ I glance at the clock above the cooker. It’s not even eight a.m.
‘Coffee?’ He places the mug beneath the machine. Dark twin pools dip to my lips, then back to meet my eye again.
‘Please.’ He turns his back to me, and my eyes greedily drink in his huge physique.
Black suit pants sculpt his ridiculously toned ass cheeks.
The sleeves of his black shirt are rolled up to reveal those powerful forearms again, rippled with muscles, and enough veins to make a road map.
He’s so big. So male. So magnificent. And he’s one bad bastard.
Is it any wonder I lose the ability to form coherent sentences when I’m near him?
‘You’re up early.’ I blurt, then immediately feel stupid for stating the obvious.
He spins to face me again as the machine whirs behind him. ‘I’m always up early.’ His voice is like rich crushed velvet, and it makes me wonder if all of him is up early. That stupid, infuriating heat flames my cheeks again, and I hate my mind for trailing in the gutter.
He arches his eyebrows and flashes me a small smile. ‘How do you like it?’
I’m supposed to hate him, but I’m also a red-blooded woman, and this man is doing things to my ovaries that I never even knew were possible. ‘Sorry?’
‘Your coffee, Aoife. How do you take it?’ He rolls his lips and I get a sneaking suspicion he’s enjoying my discomfort.
Is he deliberately making every sentence sound like an innuendo?
Or do I simply have sex on the brain?
I’ve never done it before.
Never found anyone I wanted to do it with.
Why, oh why, am I obsessively wondering what it would be like with him?
‘Black, thanks,’ I avert my eyes to the swimming pool outside the window.
He closes the distance between us and holds the cup. I accept it, carefully, ensuring our fingers don’t touch again.
‘So, I thought we could go shopping today,’ he says breezily, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
‘You want to go shopping?’ Have I died and woken up in a parallel universe? Apparently Sheila was serious.
His lips hitch upwards again. ‘We need to get you an entire new wardrobe.’ He takes a sip of his coffee. ‘Although, my shirt did look good on you.’ He shrugs and fires a wink my way.
My stomach flips. I’m saved from answering by Sheila cannoning into the kitchen, bright eyed and bushy tailed. She’s wearing a pair of jeans and a pale jade top that matches her glittering eyes. They dart between us gleefully. It hits me then—this is the first time she’s seen us together.
I step closer to Dominic almost unconsciously, and he drapes a powerful arm around my shoulders. Every atom in my body explodes with sheer awareness as his now familiar scent seeps into my lungs.
‘Morning, lovebirds,’ she shrieks. ‘Look at you!’ She strides towards us, pats my forearm and reaches for Dominic’s face.
Did she just pinch his cheek like a fucking baby?
Yep, it’s official, I’ve woken in a parallel universe.
‘I never thought I’d see the day. A woman in your kitchen!’ She shakes her head in wonder, then turns her attention to me. ‘How did you sleep, love?’ Her palm covers her lips. ‘Assuming he let you sleep at all!’ She cackles, and my cheeks flame further.
‘Good morning to you, Sheila.’ Dominic drawls, pulling me tighter against his chest. My pulse skyrockets, and it’s a battle to breathe evenly.
‘I assume you’re here early this morning because you’re going to ten o’clock mass?
That could be the only reason you’re in my kitchen at eight a.m. on a Sunday, right? ’
She scoffs. ‘I was hoping to surprise you two with breakfast in bed,’ she shrugs.
‘No need, we’re heading out,’ he says.
Her face falls. ‘Oh.’
He twists his face to look at me, and he rolls his eyes. ‘But seeing as you’re here now, maybe we could manage something small before we go.’
She beams at him. ‘I’ll make some eggs.’
I tear myself away from his torso before I combust with a million different sensations that I wasn’t even aware my body was capable of. ‘I’ll set the table.’
‘You’ll do no such thing!’ Sheila scolds. ‘You’re the lady of this house.’ She flicks on a small radio in the corner of the kitchen and sets about her work.
I look at Dominic for some sort of cue. ‘Come on, we’ll take our coffee outside.’ He points to the outdoor lounge area overlooking the pool. Blue skies promise another beautiful day. He offers me his huge hand, and I let him tug me towards the terrace.
Sheila squeals excitedly again. ‘You two are adorable! You’re going to make beautiful babies. Lock her down, Dom. Buy her the biggest ring you can find.’
He turns to look at Sheila, pausing at the sliding doors. ‘Don’t worry, I intend to.’
An hour later, after Sheila plied us with enough food to feed the five thousand, we’re in the back of the BMW. Two of Dominic’s security staff sit in the front. In dark suits and sunglasses, they’re almost as intimidating as him.
‘Are you sure it’s safe to go out?’ I thread my clammy fingers together, peering as the world blurs outside the window.
Dominic informed me that Rory Kavanagh is tearing the city apart in his search for my father and me. I knew he’d be livid, but hearing it confirmed has done nothing to ease the nausea roiling in my stomach.
His dark eyes dart to mine behind his glasses. ‘You’re always safe when you’re with me.’ He glances at the two men in the front. ‘And Lewis and James would die before letting anything happen to you.’
I shiver. His words were meant to comfort me, but I don’t want anyone dying, not because of me. Well, no one other than Rory Kavanagh.
A short while later, we pull into the Kildare Village. Big names dominate the signage on the building. Gucci. Prada. Burbury. Brands I’ve never bought in my life. I twist my head to meet his eye as one of the security staff opens the vehicle door for him.
‘I don’t need anything.’ I plead. The quiet sanctuary of his home has never felt more appealing.
I glance around the carpark as he helps me out of the back seat and out into the sun.
Instead of letting go of my hand, he grips it tightly in his as the two security guards fall into line beside us. We stroll towards the shops.
‘You need a phone so we can text.’ He leans lower to whisper in my ear. ‘You need an engagement ring before I bring you to meet my family. And you need more clothes, because while you looked fucking fantastic in my shirt, seeing you in it again simply isn’t an option.’
‘Sorry… After everything we’ve agreed to, borrowing your shirt seemed… insignificant.’
His fingers flex against mine. ‘There was nothing insignificant in the things it made me feel. Or do.’ His jaw locks.
My mouth falls open.
What did he do?
I glance down at my body.
He chuckles then from beside me, nudging me into the Prada store. ‘I promised I wouldn’t touch you.’ He lowers his mouth until his lips brush the sensitive lobe of my ear. ‘I don’t recall promising not to touch myself.’
My cheeks burn for the hundredth time since I met him.
And that expensive lingerie I’m wearing?
It’s ruined.
And I hate myself for it.