Chapter 2
Lina
Chapter Two
The devil must have possessed me because there is no other reason to explain why I just slipped my hand into the one belonging to the hottest man I’ve ever met. Sex appeal pours off him like a waterfall in Hawaii. Its power is so strong it threatens to suck you under. It’s the devil telling me to step closer to him as he wraps his arm around my waist while we pretend to be a couple.
I can tell myself I came to his rescue because he already saved me twice. But that’s not it. At least, not entirely. It’s actually only a sliver. I want him to notice me as more than some klutz. I want to feel his chiseled pecs under my hand again. I never needed to touch him to regain my balance. It was an impulse that’s left my panties wet. If the car ride hadn’t been between a cemetery and a funeral reception, I would have gotten myself off a few times. I want to rub myself against him like a kitten he can make purr.
“You’re right, honey. I’ve already said my ‘hi’s and byes.’ Is there anyone you want to talk to?”
I hope it sounds the way I intend it. He didn’t want to speak to this woman. It was clear she ambushed him. They have a past. A sexual past. I walked away because I wanted to claw her eyes out the moment I saw her. But Sean looked so desperate as he searched for a way out. I said a hasty goodbye and went to him as though we’re opposite pole magnets.
“Remember what I said, Sean.”
What the fuck was that?
“Yes. Such a pity about your divorce.”
Before Amanda can say anything, he nods and turns us toward the door. When we pass through, I expect him to release me. Instead, he moves along faster. He reaches out and tests a door handle. It’s unlocked. He swings me inside but doesn’t shut the door. I nod, and it practically slams closed. He’s pressing me against it as his mouth descends to mine. I cup his jaw and neck as I try to give as good as I get. But his kiss is hungry and dominant. When he grasps my wrists and pulls, I let go immediately. When he lifts my hands over my head and pins my wrists in one hand while his free hand grips my hip, I give myself over to the kiss and him entirely.
I’ve never relinquished complete control to any man in anything. Not to my dead father. Not to my asshole brother. Not to past boyfriends. Not even my mom. But I do with Sean. In an instant without hesitation or reservation. He accepts what I offer and presses his entire body against me. I feel how hard he is as he keeps me sandwiched between the door and him. I can feel how long and stiff he is. The temptation to drop to my knees and suck him off crashes over me with a strength I’ve never felt before. I’ve never minded BJs, but I’ve never lined up to offer them. But I want to taste Sean. I want to make him stark raving mad with desire just like he’s doing to me. I must be losing my mind.
I press my hips into him and arch my back, so only my head and shoulders rest against the door. I shift to open my legs, and he takes the invitation. He slides his thigh between mine. It’s freaking titanium. I have enough self-restraint not to grind against it to get myself off. But I want to. I need to. But I know self-denial, and I know I can survive it. Just barely. I’ve never wanted a man like I do Sean. I squeeze his thigh between mine, and he groans. It only encourages him. His hand slides from my hip to my ass and squeezes. He’s tightening his hold in tiny increments. It hurts, but not enough.
“More, Sean. Harder.”
He obliges, and it makes me go onto my toes. I didn’t expect that much strength in his hand. I tug at my wrists, and he immediately lets go. I bring my hands to his chest and let them roam over his pecs and abs. I slip my fingers into his belt and tug. He obliges, and I can go nowhere. He’s careful not to hurt me, but I’m truly pinned now. I thought I was before, but his hand resting on my throat eradicates any thoughts of leaving or that I’m in control.
“More, Sean.”
“Short of me fucking you in here, Lina, there’s not much for us.”
“You’ve done that before. I go by Nikki. Why do you call me Lina?”
“Because I can, cailín.”
“What does that mean?” I feel like I’ve heard it before, but I can’t place where.
“Little girl in Irish.”
We’re looking at each other, so I’m certain he sees something change in my gaze because his hips rub against my pussy. I fist his suit coat and practically maul him. Those two words do something to me I never imagined. They make me feel safe. They make me feel precious. It’s been a long ass time since I’ve felt either of those.
“Lina, if we don’t stop now, we’re going to fuck. And as much as my cock is telling me we should, you are not a one-night stand kind of woman. You deserve better than against a wall in a storeroom.”
“And if I’m not?”
His hand tightens just enough to make me raise my chin. His entire expression hardens, and I’m looking at a Dom. I wonder if he is in real life or if that’s just his personality.
“You deserve the best of everything. Never settle, little girl. Never accept less.”
“But I won’t see you again. I don’t want to wonder what might have been. I want to know. I want to tuck that memory away for a freezing Canadian night.”
“Then let me take you out on a date. If you still feel this way, then we’ll talk about it.”
“You live in New York. I don’t.”
“If you say yes to going out with me, I will make it happen.”
I want to say yes. I want to scream it. But my life—my family—makes it virtually impossible for me to date.
I don’t answer fast enough because he steps back. He doesn’t let go entirely. His hands rest on my waist, but his body isn’t touching mine. It chills me to have that space after the furnace that held me in place a moment ago.
“I’ll give you my number. If you want to text me after you think about it, I’ll be sure to answer. If you change your mind and want to go on that date, I will make it work.”
“Okay.” I sound so brainless.
I look down to where I dropped my purse at some point. He steps back even farther as I bend to pick it up. My lips go past his cock and balls, and I nearly lick them—him. I get my phone out and hand it to him once I unlock it. He programs his number in. When he hands it back to me, I send him a message.
Me
The clumsy Canuck
He must feel it vibrate because he pulls it from his pocket. He grins when he sees my message. I feared it was lame. I watch him type something. Maybe it’s just my first name. We still don’t know each other’s last name.
Sean
The neighborly New Yorker
He sends a smiley emoji right after he pokes fun at himself. Our gazes settle on each other’s lips. But we know better than to start another round. He opens the door and looks up and down the hallway. He waits thirty seconds—I counted because I’d be doing the same thing if I were in the lead—before he steps out. He calls the elevator, and our hands brush against each other. Once it’s moving, our hands wind up with our fingers entwined. But it’s over too soon. The moment we get to the exit, my driver’s door opens. So does his. We let go.
“It was nice meeting you, Lina.”
He makes it sound so final. Like he doesn’t expect to hear from me again. We reach my car, and I shake my head at my driver. He scowls, and I shoot him a warning glower. I know he’s going to run straight to my brother and bitch. Fuck them both.
I reach for my door, but Sean’s arms are longer. I move out of the way as he opens it for me. I turn toward him.
“It was nice meeting you too, nounours.”
He chuckles. Fuck. He understood.
“No one has called me a little anything let alone a little teddy bear since I was six.”
He watches me for a moment before his expression turns predatory. He leans forward to whisper in my ear, but he presses a kiss just beneath it first.
“Je préfèrerais être ton loup.” I’d prefer to be your wolf.
Merde. Shit. He speaks French.
“Peut-être.” Maybe.
I kiss his cheek and turn away from him. I slip into the car, and he closes the door. I lean back and close my eyes for a moment. It’s been an unexpected past two hours. I nearly had—desperately wanted to have—sex with a virtual stranger. I’ve had a few one-night stands. But that’s not what I want from Sean. The reasonable part of me knows it would have broken my heart to fuck him once, then never see him again. I glance at the phone in my hand where it rests on my lap.
Me
What’s your favorite color?
Sean
Cornflower blue. You?
The response is immediate. Just the time to dictate, not even type.
Me
Lavender
Sean
What’s your favorite food? Don’t tell me poutine.
Me
LOL not every Canadian likes fries with curdled cheese.
Sean
Cheese curds
He sends me the green face emoji.
Me
Agreed. Bacon but the proper kind not the burnt stuff you have in America
Sean
Do you mean Canadian bacon?
Now it’s the eyes squeezed shut laughing emoji. Nothing about the self-assured, suave man I met made me think he’d use emojis when he texts. It makes me grin like an idiot. Thankfully, I’m alone, and no one can see me laughing at nothing but my phone.
Me
Sure. What’s yours?
Sean
With my red hair don’t expect corned beef and cabbage. Steamed carrots with butter, salt, and pepper. That’s probably the real reason for my red hair. I ate pounds of it as a kid.
His red hair. I wanted to run my hand through it and see if it’s as soft as it looks. Yet it stayed in place despite the breeze. It was as though it didn’t dare move out of place. That it wouldn’t make him look anything but perfect. It’s definitely not carrots, but neither is it russet. It’s a rich red that fits perfectly with the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. A deep emerald like Irish grass after it rains. With red hair, freckles, green eyes, and a name like Sean, it didn’t take him mentioning corned beef to know he’s Irish. Like probably recently Irish. Maybe a generation or two since his family lived there. He called me cailín and said it was Irish.
I have a couple Nova Scotian friends. Maybe they could teach me some Gaelic. What the fuck, Nikki? Teach you Gaelic? Like you’re going to see him again. Like he’s going to care.
Me
What’s your favorite pastime?
And even though I know this is going nowhere, I’m still asking questions. Fucking glutton for punishment. Masochist.
Sean
Sailing
Me
Sailboats? Catamarans? Yachts?
Sean
Sailboats mostly. I can sail catamarans. And yes, I’ve spent time on yachts.
Of course he has. There is no doubting the man is rich as sin.
Sean
You?
Me
TBH I love sailing too. Catamarans mostly but I know my way around sailboats. And yes, I’ve been on yachts before too.
I try not to be too flashy with my clothes and jewelry. But if he has an eye for custom-tailored suits, I’m certain he could tell my dress wasn’t off the rack at Nordstrom or Macy’s. It’s obvious we both have wealth. I came to mine later in life—all things relative since I’m twenty-six. I don’t know if Sean comes from it or earned it. But he’s not poor either.
Sean
I have a call coming in and I’m about to go through the Fort McHenry Tunnel. I’m going to lose you and I have to call my brother back. I’m glad we met, cailín.
Me
Me too nounours. Or was it loup?
Sean
Both Bye
Me
Bye
At least he didn’t just leave the conversation dangling. But I feel hollow now. I stare at my phone. He responded to me and went along with my banter. I doubt it’ll be anything more than this. And that blows.
I wish I were going home to Montreal, but I’m not. My home’s now in Boston, and I hate it. Not Boston, per se. It’s the reason I’m in Boston. Guilt. Plain and simple manipulated and manufactured guilt. My life had enough fucked-up parts to it growing up with a grandfather who heads the Irish mob in Quebec. But having a father who was a shitty leader of the Boston Irish only compounded every complication I faced as a teenager before my father bothered to be a father.
It's not like my paternity was a state secret. I’ve known my entire life that Rowan O’Malley was my dad. He acknowledged me, and his name is on my birth certificate. But I don’t have his last name. I’m the product of a one-night stand. Considering that’s how I came into the world, you’d think I’d never have one. But I’ve had a few. And I would have gladly included Sean on that limited list.
My dad got a woman pregnant when they were sixteen. My half-brother Ewan is twenty-seven. My dad’s parents and hers forced them to stay together, but the moment he turned eighteen, he dumped her. He thought he could do whatever he wanted because he was an adult. His dad was so pissed he sent him to meet my uncle to arrange some shipment exchange. While he was in Montreal, he hooked up with my mom, who was twenty. Apparently, he hadn’t learned his lesson about being careful. Turns out, my mom was on antibiotics to get over a sinus infection. She didn’t know they decreased her birth control pills’ efficacy. Along I came nine months later.
My dad was not only back together with Ewan’s mom, but they were also married. He knew full well he had another child on the way. His wife knew he’d impregnated another woman. My mom knew he wound up married to someone else. I know he loved my stepmother and always had. But he was an arrogant and self-centered man at eighteen and not any better at forty-five when the O’Rourkes killed him a few months ago.
He’d dumped my stepmom to spite his father and hers. He slept with my mom because he could. He’d planned to get back together with my stepmom all along. That was a convenient detail he didn’t mention to my mom. She never would have looked in his direction if she’d known.
He always acknowledged me as his, and he would visit whenever he came to Montreal. He’d make an effort to come up there at least once every three months. It was like I was a quarterly tax he had to pay to keep my grandfather from gutting him. I spent a few Christmases and Easters in Boston, too. I spent several weeks each summer. But I was a guest, not a family member. Ewan and I are so close in age that he says he doesn’t remember a time before me. He’s known his entire life that he has a sister. He just didn’t know why I didn’t live with him until he was ten and I was eight.
“Nikki?”
“Yeah. I’m here.” I slide my coat off as I close Ewan’s front door.
I’d taken my coat off in the car between the funeral and reception yesterday. I’m glad I did because it made it way easier to feel Sean touching me. I was wearing it now because it was one less thing to carry.
“Come out to the backyard.” Ewan’s grilling from the smell of it.
My brother and I overheard our dad talking to Uncle Riley that Christmas. He and I were building a model airplane together at the dining room table. Uncle Riley suggested I come back in four months for Easter. Dad said he was only obligated to have me for one family holiday a year. Since he had a trip to Montreal planned for February that would force him to see me, he said he saw no reason to have me visit any sooner than the next Christmas.
I know now my grandfather pissed him off, so it was more about them not getting along than me. But Ewan and I stood staring at each other in the dining room, a bottle of glue in my hand and tongue depressor looking things in his. That was the day I swore I would never cry in public again. If I could keep myself from crying when I was eight, I can keep myself from crying now. Ewan wasn’t a hot-head, but he had no qualms about standing up to Dad even back then. He dropped the wood pieces on the table and stormed into the kitchen.
“Welcome home, Nik.” Ewan shoots me a smile as he hands me a beer. He has the same expression as he did when we were kids.
Ewan told Dad and Uncle Riley that we heard everything while we worked on the model airplane. He told Dad he should be ashamed of himself and if he was the man he claimed to be, then he didn’t pick on little girls. That he wanted to be nothing like Dad if he couldn’t love both his children equally since neither of us asked to have him as our father.
I remember standing there like a fish flopping on a dock. Eyes popping out and mouth hanging open. I didn’t know what to expect, but I was ready to bolt. I was wholly unprepared for Dad to pick me up and carry me into his study. He sat me down on his lap and just hugged me for like ten minutes. Then he apologized. It was the only time in my entire life I heard the words “I’m sorry” put together in a sentence. I heard him say plenty of other people would be sorry.
That was the night I learned how I came to be. At least, in a way an eight-year-old could understand. After that, he was much nicer to me. I was welcome for all holidays and during the summer. I didn’t see him much during those visits as I got older, and Ewan wasn’t around that often, either. But my stepmom, Maureen, is kind, and that made up for a lot. Especially once I got to college, and Dad turned all those decent memories into guilt.
“Thanks. It was a short flight both ways, but those three days were long. It was fun seeing friends on Thursday. But Friday blew, helping Cynthia pack up her husband’s office of thirty years on campus. Yesterday just sucked.” Except for when I was with Sean.
I stare at Ewan and think about the argument my brother and I had before I left. He looks so much like Dad. Our father loved to tell me how I owed his side of the family allegiance. That I should support his side of the family since he’d welcomed me into his home and paid for college. That I’d walked away from my mom and her side of the family when I came to the U.S. for college. I didn’t walk; I flew. But I will always consider myself far more a Tremblay than an O’Malley.
“Do you need tomorrow off, or can you start the project?” Ewan barely glances at me as he flips burgers for the ass hats lounging around his pool.
How fucking generous. The “project” is what caused the argument with Ewan before I left.
And now Dad’s dead thanks to some guy named Finn O’Rourke, and Ewan’s the one laying the guilt trips on me. That if I’d done my part to help gather intel, then Dad and Uncle Riley would have been prepared and not ambushed. That if I cared about my brother, I would help him now. I didn’t go into intelligence analysis to help my mobster families off their rivals. I went into it because global security interests me. My maternal grandfather paid a fuck ton of money to the Canadian government to turn a blind eye to his involvement in organized crime. He made a convincing argument that I have no interest in domestic security, so I wasn’t a homeland danger. I only want to focus on other parts of the world.
A whole lot of good it did him or me.
Dad laid the guilt on as soon as I graduated from Georgetown. He deposited a hefty amount—three million dollars—into my bank account as a graduation gift. It was to make me indentured. He expected me to work that money off by slipping him information about what goes on in Montreal.
Ewan started guilting me the moment he told me Dad was dead. That was not one of the times I had to hold back tears. I would have been more upset if he told me one of my favorite TV shows got cancelled. But Dad and Uncle Riley fucked around and found out, leaving Ewan to clean up the disaster. And by that I mean, left him to recruit me to tidy up.
“Do we have to talk about this right now?” I take a swig of beer.
“I offered you tomorrow off.”
As though that’s supposed to give me time to grieve and get shit together since I moved down here two weeks ago. The project is gathering intel on the O’Rourkes for whatever Ewan’s going to do to get back at them. His face has healed from the beating he took from some guys they sent up here. But I know his shoulder still hurts whenever he moves the wrong way. His broken ribs are still keeping him from lifting and running. That’s the real reason he’s a fucking ogre. He gets cranky when he can’t work out. Like a kid who missed his fucking recess and has energy to burn off.
“I meant do we need to talk about this while everyone else is here. You promised you’d keep my involvement a secret. I thought you don’t want Jimmy pissed that you have me digging since you don’t think he can get it done. And I thought you were going to hide that you need me since I’m a girl.”
I cross my arms with my beer still in my left hand. Mob business is supposed to be for just the menfolk. We little women are supposed to stay home, tucked away and none the wiser. Except Rowan O’Malley had a daughter who runs circles around the knuckle draggers he put in charge of gathering intel. Beating the shit out of people to make them talk is not the way to get deep dark secrets. Hacking encrypted networks and clouds is the way to get what Ewan needs. If I learned how to hide nuclear secrets and discover enemy hideouts—in theory, not in practice since I no longer have my government intel job—then I can figure out what the fuck the O’Rourkes are up to.
“None of them are listening.”
I stare at him before shifting my gaze to sweep across the backyard. There are a dozen men here, some with wives or girlfriends. They all appear occupied eating and drinking. A few are in the pool. But they’re mobsters who’ve lived long enough to enjoy this barbeque. They didn’t do that by not being situationally aware.
“You’re a fool if you believe that. You aren’t na?ve, so pull your head out of your ass, Ewan. I don’t want to die for this shit.”
“And who’s being melodramatic?”
“If Jimmy finds out you don’t trust him and you went behind his back to get your little sister’s help, he’s going to lose his shit. He can’t do a damn thing to you, but he can do plenty to me.”
Ewan puts the tongs down and fully turns toward me. “He will never touch you and live.”
“A fat lot of good that does me if I’m already dead. And he has plenty of ways to get to me without ever touching me. We both know the only reason he headed up Dad’s intel gathering is because he’s the best enforcer.”
“Are you scared of him?”
“Of course.” I’m about to say more, but my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out far enough to see the screen. I force myself not to grin.
“Who is it? Some guy?”
I look up at Ewan. “And if it is?”
“Then I want to know who he is.”
I laugh. I laugh hard. I laugh hard in his face.
“Now you want to be my big brother. You’re worried about who I’m fucking, but you aren’t worried one of your men could squeeze the life out of me with one of his ham hock hands. Your priorities are fucked.”
I don’t wait for him to respond. I walk inside and leave my beer on the counter. I jog up the stairs to my room. I cannot wait to find an apartment and move out. But I’m safer here than on my own. Until I’m certain Ewan can keep his men away from me and that Jimmy can play nicely, I’m better off under Ewan’s roof than my own.
Sean
Did you make it home safely?
He probably thinks I live in Montreal again. I never told him I moved to Boston. The only time I said where I lived was when I pretended to be his girlfriend. I said we lived in East Harlem.
Me
I did. You?
Sean
Yeah. It was nice meeting you. It made a bad day a lot better.
He’s sweet.
Me
It really did. I’m glad I met you too. I never asked which of Dr. Carmody’s classes you took.
Sean
All of them. But I enjoyed open-source intel, and lies and disinformation the most.
The exact things Ewan expects me to use.
Me
Same. People put more info out there than they realize. It’s there if you just look.
Sean
And what people are willing to believe is on them.
Me
True
It is, but I don’t know that I would have said it outright. Is he testing me?
Sean
My brothers just pulled up so I gotta go. But I’m glad you made it home safely.
The weather out of DC was crap this morning, but it’s beautiful in Boston right now. I doubt that’s what he means, though. I bet he means the distance between the DC area and Montreal. Did he think I went home yesterday after the funeral or today?
Me
Brothers?
Sean
Yeah. Two. You?
Me
One
Sean
Older or younger?
I know he has to go, but I don’t think either of us wants to stop chatting.
Me
Older. You?
Sean
Baby of the family
He sends me that grinning, eyes squeezed shut emoji. There’s nothing about him that makes me think he’s the baby of anything. He’s all alpha male all the time. Just thinking that makes my cunt ache. I wish we had fucked in that storeroom.
Sean
TTYL Have a good day
Me
You too
I started the text conversation yesterday when we were in our cars. He picked it up today. Do I say more tomorrow?
“Nikki!”
For fuck’s sake.
“Yeah. I’m in my room. Hold on. I’m getting changed.”
I slide off the trousers and blouse I’m wearing and grab a pair of shorts and a tank top. If there weren’t a bunch of guys in the backyard I barely know, I’d grab a bikini and lay out. I don’t need them staring at how thin I am. I know I’m flat chested and bony. I’m fine with it because it’s just the way I’m made. But I’m hardly what most guys want when they see a woman half naked. I don’t need them staring at my flat ass any more than they would if I had a fat one.
Though Sean seemed to like what he felt yesterday. He made it seem like he couldn’t get enough. He didn’t make me feel too tall or too gangly. He made me feel desirable. He pinned me against the door, but I never felt trapped. Even when he exerted dominance, I never feared him. Just the opposite. I felt—treasured. I’ve never felt that way with a man before.
I glance down to see my nipples are hard. Great. I need a different bra. It’s definitely not cold out. I strip off my clothes and pinch my nipples to the point it hurts. I close my eyes and picture Sean’s hands on me instead of my own. I remember how it felt to have his thigh between mine. What I wouldn’t give to feel that again.
“Nikki!”
“I’m coming! Hang on!”
Nothing like your brother bellowing at you to ruin the mood. I toss on my clothes and head downstairs.
“What?”
“Your hot dog’s ready.”
I look down at the plate he fixed me. Not only is there a hot dog with mayo and ketchup, there’s macaroni salad, a brownie, and Doritos. He offers me a lopsided grin as I accept the plate. It’s all the stuff I like. He tries, and I have to give him credit for that.
Turns out, though, it’s not so altruistic as I hoped.
“You’re going to New York in two days.”