Chapter 4
Lina
Chapter Four
Should I be this nervous? I sent Sean the skyscraper’s address where I’m stuck in an interminable—or is it infernal—meeting. We’ve been going around and around for an hour and a quarter. I thought we’d finish in forty-five minutes. An hour tops. If I don’t wrap this up, I’m going to be late to meet Sean. His response to my text with the address and saying I was looking forward to seeing him was less than effusive. I didn’t want to read into it, but it didn’t feel as warm as our conversation had a few hours earlier.
“Mr. Nishida, I understand you have other things to consider before you agree to invest in our pharmaceutical company, but we’re breaking ground in three months.” Shit or get off the pot. “We have other potential investors, but you’ve been partners with my family for many years. We wanted to give you first right of refusal.”
I’m certain he’s playing my family. I’m certain he has something going on with another syndicate. I just don’t know who. I know he’s invested in Mancinelli casinos in the past. Perhaps it’s them. I dug yesterday, but I found nothing conclusive. If he’s negotiated anything or said anything, it wasn’t recorded digitally.
“You’re far from home, Ms. Tremblay.”
I wait for him to say more. It was an observation, not a question. I have nothing to say back. I mean, “you too” seems lame. We stare at each other.
“I didn’t know your brother does business in New York now.”
“We knew you were flying in. It’s a quick flight for me. It meant not another one for you. We do business in Boston.”
“We. It was your father until two months ago. Now you’ve joined your brother. What does your grandfather think?”
That when this blows up—which it inevitably will—he’ll say I told you so.
“He believes family comes first.”
Which is completely true. He just wishes half my family weren’t O’Malleys. From what I know, it was a disaster when my mom told her parents she was pregnant because we’re Catholic. If she’d been married, they could have all believed it was immaculate conception. But she wasn’t even dating my dad. We don’t discuss sex. As far as my family is concerned, we’re born virgins and die virgins. My mom having a baby with no father in the picture screamed she wasn’t a virgin. It’s obvious my father wasn’t her first, but I sure as shit will never, ever, ever ask who was. Ew. Gross.
“His family first. It surprises me you’re here.”
For fuck’s sake. This is how the conversation began. I’m going to be late. It takes all the restraint I can muster not to look at my watch.
“Like I said before, he believes in family first. The O’Malleys are my family. Ewan asked me to meet with you, and we wanted to be considerate of your time. I know your time is limited, so we’ll move forward.”
Let’s see if my positive assumption pisses him off or nudges him.
His grin makes me doubt myself.
“Yes, Ms. Tremblay. We will move forward. Your brother can expect the first deposit tomorrow. When he secures the shipping route, I will send the rest.”
He wants Ewan to move heroin down the entire West Coast. It’s not like we have a fleet. But he wants his product to go by boat rather than truck. It’s safer in many ways. Less likely to be pulled over. It’s faster. It’s also more expensive and requires more risk since we don’t have loyal men out there. We can send them, but none of them can captain or crew a ship. Nishida is testing us.
I stand and thrust out my hand. But I reach less than halfway across the table. Let them think my arm is too short. When he grins again as his hand clasps mine, I know he recognizes what I did. I forced him to meet me more than halfway.
“A wise man would be wary to get caught in your crosshairs.”
“Patience ensures there’s nothing in the way.”
Let him assume whatever he wants. He’s hinting at my ambition. I had plenty, but it was for the career I gave up. I have none for this life I’ve been dragged into. Maybe he believes I’m hinting I’ll last longer than my grandfather or my brother. That my patience will ensure I wind up on top with nothing in my way. As though I want to lead the family. However, I mean that if I wait until this is done, I have no reason to come back.
Sean’s a reason.
I can’t get the man out of my head. I shouldn’t be nervous, but I am. There. I answered my own question. What was I thinking to say I’m available for lunch and dinner, and I like brunch? I may as well strip naked and twirl in front of him.
I know the Japanese envoy—the oyabun came with six men—waits for me to walk to the door. I shake my head.
“I have another appointment soon.”
I won’t be seen walking out of a building with the head of a Tokyo yakuza beside me. That’s suicide. An association with him alone is enough to get me killed. But to meet with him in NYC? I’m still fucking pissed Ewan insisted I do this.
I don’t fear Ewan physically. I know he would never touch me, and he wouldn’t let his men do it either. But he would fuck with me. He could ensure I never get a legit job again. It wouldn’t take much for him to ruin my professional reputation. He could cause trouble with my grandfather and get my mom caught in the middle. He could do plenty of other things. None of which I want to imagine right now, but I’m certain he already has.
I wait ten minutes until it’s twelve-twenty-six. Four minutes to get down to the ground floor. I know Ewan worries about me personally as much as he does my work for him. He’s not entirely a sociopath. He insisted I bring bodyguards. I refused. The less attention I bring to this trip the better. I flew commercial. I have my ultra-blonde hair in a bun. It lightens to platinum every summer and darkens a shade or two in winter. I spend as much time outside as I can, so my hair is already lightening. It’s recognizable, so I have it up to try not to make it so noticeable.
I look around the lobby as I step off the elevator. I spot Sean immediately. Fuck. He’s hot. Like so incredibly hot that my panties are soaked already. It took one glance. His physical features—height, build, face—are striking. But put it all together with the well-earned self-confidence, he’s a magnet to me. I’m certain he’s a magnet to anyone with a pulse and likes to fuck.
“Hi, cailín.” He steps close to me, and I wonder if he might kiss at least my cheek. He doesn’t.
“Hi. Thank you for meeting me. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”
“Not at all. Just people watching.”
Is he telling me something? Did he recognize Nishida?
“I find that fascinating. My brother and I used to try to guess where people were going or what they did for work. The more outlandish the better.”
“How much older is your brother than you?”
“Nearly two years.”
He seems to tuck that away. He rests his hand at the small of my back as he guides me to the door. A man opens it for us, and Sean lets me pass first. I sweep my gaze over our surroundings. I glance up at Sean, and I know he just did the same. Is he checking for viable threats? The way he walks with his shoulder slightly behind mine—so he could step behind me to protect my back or encircle me and cover my whole body—makes me think he’s used to danger. That or he’s paranoid.
“Have you heard of La Petite Fleur?”
I fully look up at him as we reach a black town car. “Only in passing.”
“My brother owns it. It has a fantastic menu, and I can be sure you aren’t late to your next meeting.”
“Thank you.”
I slide into the car, noticing the privacy glass is up, and I’m still not sure what to make of Sean. He seems so much more distant than he did when we met and on the phone yesterday. He shuts the door behind him as I reach for my seatbelt. I get my hand on it, but that’s it when he cups my nape. Once again, I’m looking up at him. His entire expression has morphed into something predatory. He leans forward and presses his mouth to mine. I open without hesitation. I sigh at the feel of his tongue against mine.
Then I’m off my seat and straddling his lap. Fuck. What I wouldn’t give to unbutton his pants and push them down, so I can ride his cock. When he pulls my hips flush to him, I fear leaving a stain. I try to scoot back, but his grip on my hips tightens.
“Sean, I’m too wet.”
His chuckle is pure sin. “Good.”
His hands skim up my calves and over my thighs to dip beneath the hem. He grasps my hips again, his bare skin on my bare skin. He tugs a third time, and I give in. But only for a moment. During that brief flash of time, I revel in the feel of him where I’ve ached since I met him.
“Sean, everyone is going to know you’ve had a woman riding your dick if you don’t let me back up.”
He flips me onto my back and kneels beside the seat on the floor. It must be awkward with how broad he is and how long his legs are, but he’s able to face me and my pussy. He pushes my skirt up, then waits for me to object. I do nothing but watch him.
“Then let me make sure none of the cream spills.”
He lowers his head as he pushes my thong aside. I close my eyes at the first feel of his tongue pressed flat against my cunt. He swirls his tongue before dipping it between my pussy lips. He draws it up and flicks my clit before sucking it.
“Fuck, Sean. Yes.”
I reach for him, but he snags my wrist and pushes it down. My other hand grips the side of the seat. He encircles that one too. He holds my arms in place. I try to lift my hips, but he releases my left arm and presses down on my belly. He sucks again, and I can’t stop my cunt from wanting to get closer. He nips my clit, and I cry out. The spark of pain surprises me, but I’m more aroused than I’ve ever been in my life.
“Give me more, Sean. Now.”
The assertiveness loses something as I moan. It’s more of a plea. He pulls away, and I whimper. His hand comes down, slapping my pussy. I buck.
“You do not command me, cailín. I decide what you get, how you get it, and when you get it. I decided you aren’t coming yet.”
Can I come just from words?
“Yes, Sir.”
His emerald eyes spark as he pinches my clit and presses two fingers into me, using both hands. He already knows I’m soaked, but he also knows two fingers aren’t nearly enough. He’s taunting me, and I can barely stand it.
“If you want to share dessert tonight, little one, I’ll make sure you’re starving for brunch.”
“Yes!” It comes out a choked sob as he thrusts a third finger into me.
I cross my wrists and raise my arms over my head. I grasp the end of the seat, knowing he saw me. He knows I’ve already submitted, but I offer the clear sign this is what I want. He returns his mouth to my pussy, working my clit as he works three wide fingers inside me. He finds my g spot, and I squirm.
“Right there. Please, Sir.”
He presses his free hand down on my belly right where his fingers stroke the inside of my cunt. His tongue and lips keep a steady, torturous rhythm as they lavish attention on my clit, which is growing more and more sensitive.
“Sean, I’m not going to last. Please, may I come? Please.”
“No.”
I wail. I’m so close, but he stops moving. He doesn’t pull out. Thank God.
“I told you. You will come when I decide. You will wait until I’m inside you.” His gaze bores into me. “And that won’t be until tonight.”
“You’re going to edge me?”
“Both of us, little one. Don’t doubt I’m ready to explode.”
“Sean, I can’t do this. I ache so much it’s painful. I need you.”
He shifts and moves me to sit in his lap as he returns to the seat. I’m not straddling him this time, so my legs fall open. He trails his fingertips up my right thigh. He cups my pussy, the heel of his hand rubbing circles on my clit.
“Shh, little one. Rest against me. I promise I’ll take care of you, but I’m not fucking you for the first time in a car. I sure as fuck am not having our first time be a quickie.”
“Then why do this? Why drive me crazy?”
“Why should I suffer alone?”
He grins before he gives me the softest kiss I’ve had in—well, forever. I’m not ready for this tenderness. It’s like sub drop happens, but I’m not his sub, and we haven’t done enough to get that many hormones pumping through me. At least, I didn’t think we had. I curl with his hands still between my legs. I burrow against his chest, and I suddenly have this overwhelming need to cry. Part of it is sexual frustration.
A greater part is that I feel safe and taken care of. Yes, he’s denying me. But he’s doing it to give me pleasure. I like delayed gratification, even if I hate it right now in the moment. He’s giving me what I really need. I don’t want our first time to be a quickie. I don’t want it to be in the backseat of a car. I don’t want to rush into this because I got myself so worked up dreaming about him that I make an impetuous leap I regret by the time lunch is over.
His hand moves to cup my ass, and I sigh. I’m truly content right now. I don’t want to move, and I almost cry again when the car comes to a stop. I feel it shift into park, so we aren’t at a stop light. I realize he still has his hand up my skirt and scramble to get off his lap.
“I decide. My driver won’t open the door until I knock. I heard you do the same thing for your driver. Sit here for a moment longer and let me hold you.”
“Sean, are you going to decide everything?”
“No. But for today, when it comes to pleasuring you, I am. This is for you. I want you more than I know how to explain. And a large part of that is wanting to see you come because I’m the one who did it.”
“That’s possessive.”
“I know.”
Our gazes have been locked since I tried to get off his lap. He’s been confident until this moment. He has a moment of uncertainty. He fears he’s gone too far.
“I want to reciprocate, Sean. I don’t want this to just be about me. I feel the same way about you as you do me. I want to watch you come and know I’m the one who made you. If I thought any of this was too much, I would have stopped you. If I thought you were too possessive or controlling, I would already be out of the car. Instead, I want to curl up again and hide from the world. I want to suck you off and taste you. I want to watch you mark me with your cum.” I take a breath. “I can’t believe I just said all that.”
I’m embarrassed I admitted more than he did. I showed my hand too soon.
“Lina, something is between us. I don’t think it’s just physical, but maybe it is. You called me Sir twice. I’m dominating our physical intimacy right now, but I am not your Dom, nor do I want to be. That isn’t the dynamic I want.”
“I don’t know how well suited I’d be to being a submissive beyond what we’re doing together. I know people who are. I know people who are subs purely in sexual relationships and others who are in romantic ones. If that were what you wanted, I don’t think I’d be the right person.”
“You’re my equal, cailín. In all things. Even when I say I control what we’re doing, you have the ultimate say. If you want something to stop, it does immediately. I will never question your limits. I will never guilt you for stopping.”
“I called you Sir twice, but I also called you Sean. Are you all right with that?”
“Absolutely. Use my name whenever you want. I like hearing it.”
“I like hearing you call me Lina.”
I want to keep hearing him call me that along with cailín and little girl. We just established I’m not a submissive. At least, not anymore. I definitely am not a Little. I know a couple of women who are and one guy. I’ve been part of the BDSM world in Montreal for years. I will submit during most scenes, but I don’t want that kind of relationship. I swap just as often, sometimes being a top and sometimes being a bottom.
As I smooth back my hair, I think about my membership. I can’t imagine being with another man and feeling like I just did. The array of emotions. The intensity of them. But I also don’t want to go unsatisfied when I inevitably leave NYC tomorrow. I’ve considered two clubs in Boston, and I’ve applied for membership at both. I won’t join two, but hopefully, this guarantees at least one. I’ll find someone to fuck Sean out of my mind.
No, you won’t. That’s complete bullshit. You’re more likely to call a man the wrong name.
He taps on the glass once I’m seated beside him, and the door opens. He offers me his hand once he’s standing. When we look at each other, something shifts in his eyes. It’s like he came out of whatever trance he was in while we were alone in the car. His demeanor shifts back to what it was when I met him in the lobby. Is it because we’re back in public? Does he not believe in letting even his face show some PDA?
“Let’s go in. My brother has a table for us. I don’t want to make you late for your next meeting.”
His tone has changed along with his expression. It hurts. A lot. We just shared one of the most intimate moments of my life, and he’s so detached you’d think he wasn’t a part of it. I wait for him to put his hand at the small of my back when we get to the door, but he just holds it open.
The hostess smiles at him, and he returns it. I want to claw her eyes out. It’s not anything sexual. But why does she get warmth when he’s turned frigid with me? The possessiveness I felt in the car when we talked is flaring into a blaze. It’s unsettling.
He pulls the chair out for me and stands until I’m seated. That wasn’t for me. I’m certain it was drilled into him. I feel myself withdraw as I look at the menu.
“I’d offer a recommendation, but everything is good here.” Some of the ice just chipped away. But it’s probably because he’s thinking about his family.
A different waitress comes over, and she’s just as friendly. But she looks a bit like Sean. I must have stared a little too long when I watched her walk away.
“That’s Katie. She’s my third cousin or something like that. The woman at the door is her sister, Mary Beth.”
“Is all of your family that close?”
“Yeah. Both sides.”
I was so close to looking him up on the alumni site, but I forced myself not to. I want him to volunteer it. When I think about what we just did in the car, and we don’t know each other’s last name, it makes it feel all of this has been a protracted one-night stand. I don’t like it.
I smile because he does when he thinks about his family again. There are no lines around his eyes or mouth when he isn’t smiling, but they appear when he does. It makes him look boyish and at ease. Seeing him like this makes me realize how intense he’s been the two times I’ve been around him. He tilts his head a little before he speaks again.
“What about you? Are you close to your family?”
“I am. Both sides, but I grew up with my mom’s side.”
“You said your brother is a little less than two years older than you. Irish twins?”
Was there something in his tone when he said those last two words?
“Not that close. But I come from Irish families on my mom’s and dad’s side.”
“Was it hard leaving Montreal to move to New York?”
“It was hard leaving my mom behind, but—besides the weird accents—it didn’t feel any different.” I grin, hoping he’ll smile again. Success.
“How you doin’?” He sounds like Joey on Friends.
“Well, doncha know.” I don’t draw it out quite like I did when I texted it.
Was our first and only phone call really only a day ago? The meeting with Nishida felt like an eternity. It dragged so much it’s like yesterday was a lifetime ago.
“What about you? Was it hard to leave New York to live in DC for two years?”
“No. I went back and forth a lot. I knew all the train conductors by the time I graduated.”
“Did you come back every weekend?”
“Most. I worked for my family, so I still had commitments up here.”
Was that a veiled comment? Is he hinting at something that he wants me to ask? Or just the opposite? Is it a warning not to pry?
Occupational hazard of working in intelligence. There are ten questions to everything before it becomes a fact.
“Does Amtrak have loyalty points or something? You could have racked up the frequent flyer miles.”
“They do. But the perks aren’t quite as nice as most airlines. Did you go home often or just during breaks?”
“I have family in Boston. My dad lived there, so I went there sometimes.”
“Did he move?”
Was that too casual? Like he’s testing me?
“No. He died two months ago.”
Our gazes lock with intensity that doesn’t need to be there. I don’t get it.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
Is he, though? Talk about a perfunctory response. It almost sounds like the exact opposite.
“Thank you.”
“That must be hard on you and your mom.”
“My parents aren’t—weren’t—together. It’s complicated, but my brother has a different mother. My stepmom is kind to me. I get along with her well. It’s been rough on her.”
“And your brother?”
I shrug. “He’s not the most emotionally communicative. He was a lot closer to my dad than me. They worked together.”
Shit. I shouldn’t have brought that up.
“Oh, what did they do? What does your brother do?”
“A bit of this and that. My brother now has some companies they owned. How about your family?”
“Same.”
He leans back as the food arrives. But he doesn’t lean forward once the waitress leaves. I don’t understand what’s happening.
“Ewan’s never had a head for numbers. Is that why you’re here?”
I sit and blink. I eventually swallow as a sinking feeling drops from my throat into the pit of my stomach.
“You’re an O’Rourke.”
“And you’re a Tremblay by way of an O’Malley. Double the fun.”
“Have you known all along?”
“No. I resisted the temptation to look you up. I found out last evening. You didn’t look me up?”
“No. I wanted you to tell me. I knew if I brought it up, I’d have to tell you mine. I was scared you’d google me. I guess that’s rather moot.”
I don’t know what to do next. I feel nauseous. What started as a fantastic lunch date just went to shit. I guess Ewan’ll be happy. I found an O’Rourke. Now what the fuck am I supposed to do?