by Frankie Love
"Fuck, I wish you weren't getting dressed," I tell her. "I could spend all day with you in this bed."
She twists her lips, looking over her shoulder at me. I love her hips, her round ass, her sun-kissed skin. "Don't you have work to do?"
"Damn," I say, sitting up in bed, running a hand over my jaw. "I do. I got some shit to take care of this afternoon."
She smiles. "So let's meet for dinner."
"And by dinner, you mean us, this bed, me eating you out?"
She laughs. "Sure. That sounds fantastic. However, I might also want a cheeseburger. I am a girl with an appetite."
"Do you know how hot that is?"
She wiggles her butt, slapping her cheek. "I have a feeling." She laughs so naturally. I have no idea how she hasn't been snatched up by another man. I feel like one lucky bastard.
"Anyways," she says, "I promised my dad. And yesterday, I kind of let him in on my new life plans, so I feel like I owe it to him."
"Yeah? You guys are pretty close?"
She nods, pulling on a black t-shirt dress and putting her feet back in her flip-flops, fluffing her hair then tying it into a knot on the top of her head. "We're really close. Like I said, my mom died, which meant he and I, we kind of did everything together. And he's pretty protective."
I frown. "How protective?"
"Really protective, as in maybe there's a reason I've never brought a man home."
"So you think he'll have a problem with me?"
She smiles. "No, I think he's going to love you."
"What makes you so confident?” I ask.
"Honestly, because I basically love you."
"Basically?"
She laughs. "I don't know how much of last night was sex-induced, frenzied declarations, but..."
I get out of bed. I walk toward her. I draw her close. "It was nothing sex-induced. It was pure. It was real. You and me, Fifi, we're... You belong to me."
"My feminist sensibilities should balk at that," she admits, "but when you say it, it just gets me wet."
I run my hand up her thigh, under her dress, cupping her pussy, hating like hell that she's wearing panties. "I could fuck you so hard right now."
She closes her eyes, moaning, looking at the clock. "I can't," she says. "There'll be plenty of time, though. I promise."
"Yeah? Good thing I know you like to keep your word."
"I do. I'm a good O'Grady. My dad taught me well."
"O'Grady," I repeat, flinching. "That's your last name?"
She smiles. "Yeah, I'm Fiona O'Grady, daughter of Cane. And he is a stickler for timelines." She pulls out her phone. "He's texted twice. He's expecting me in twenty minutes. I've got to get to his estate."
"Estate," I say, my heart suddenly tight. I run a hand over my chest, feeling like I could have a goddamn heart attack. "You got to get to his estate?"
She nods, smiling, completely unaware. "Yep. I'm Daddy's little girl."
I grab her wrist. "Maybe not for long." I kiss her. But this time it feels like an omen, like something's going to snap and break. I don't want it to be her bones, her heart, anything, but fuck, she is the daughter of Cane O'Grady.
She smiles, kissing me again. "I like it when you hold on tight," she whispers in my ear. "Maybe for tonight you can find some handcuffs at a sex shop on the Strip."
I chuckle, anxious in ways she doesn't understand. "You want me to tie you up?"
"Oh, Flynn, I want you to do all sorts of things to me." She licks her lips, blows me a kiss and walks out.
I reach for my phone, turning it on, wanting to reread the encrypted brief sent by Ruthless Corporation. I pull it up. My target is clear.
I have to kill Cane O'Grady. Today.
I may have fallen in love with Fiona, but I sure didn't anticipate having to kill her father.
8
Fiona
I float home. Well, technically, I'm in one of my father's Town Cars, which pulled up at the front entrance of the Crown Casino. But internally I am high as a kite, floating on a cloud, lost in a daydream, over my head. Or is it head over heels?
I'm not sure, all I know is that I fell in love last night. At the same time I got my cherry popped. It seems more than too good to be true, but after spending the night wrapped around Flynn's body, there's no one that could tell me this isn't a good idea, that this isn't real.
I saw the look in his eyes when he made me come. I saw the look in his eyes when he told me I was beautiful, that I was his, that I belonged to him.
They weren't words I ever thought I needed to hear from a guy. But when Flynn said them, they felt like the missing pieces of my heart. And maybe I've been living in a fairy tale my entire life. My dad is basically a billionaire and I know a thing or two about "rich girl syndrome".
I’ve lived my life in a protected glass castle, but I feel like all my walls are breaking, shattering to the ground. I want to be in the wide-open spaces of Flynn's heart.
I hate having to leave him, but I know a heart-to-heart conversation with my father is in order. I may have come into town to tell him about my change of careers, but now I have bigger news. Now I have to tell him I fell in love last night.
When I get to the estate, he's waiting for me in his dining room. It's a beautiful space, with rich oak and a modern aesthetic. It suits him. It feels classy but understated. My dad may be loaded but he isn't the kind of guy who needs to flash his cash. The room is filled with wide windows that let the desert sun hit the plants that line the windowsills. It's a lovely space.
My mother designed it and she loved taking care of plants when she was alive. It's funny sometimes, like right now, walking into the dining room and seeing my dad with a watering can in one hand, but he loves to take care of the Monstera stalks and the cacti. It's his last act of love and devotion. That is the kind of love I want to emulate, the kind that stays around even after death.
"Hey sweetheart," he says, catching my eye. "Looks like you didn't get much sleep."
I laugh. "Yeah, I stayed up so late with Lucia. You know how she is."
My dad frowns. "Did you get yourself into any trouble?" He indicates that I should sit down, and I take a seat across from him. Esmeralda enters the dining room with the pot of coffee, pouring me a cup of the fresh, aromatic brew. I add some cream and sugar. My dad does the same. I reach for the scrambled eggs and set them on my plate along with a few slices of French toast and a generous portion of maple syrup. I'm famished. After last night, my God, I've worked up an appetite.
When I start adding bacon to my plate, my dad chuckles. "I take it you need some protein after a night of drinking. Are you hungover, Fifi?"
I shake my head. "No. I'm completely sober. Though I wouldn't mind a Bloody Mary." A moment later Esmeralda asks me if I want a salted rim and I do. Maybe a drink will offer me some liquid courage to tell my dad what has happened.
"So what's going on?" he asks. "You stayed out all night and you should. You're twenty-one years old in Sin City." Then he shrugs, never having been much of a prude. "Did you meet somebody?"
"Dad," I say, heat rising to my face. I feel my cheeks burning. But instead of dodging the question, I tell him the truth. All of it. I have never been one to lie. "I did, actually. His name's Flynn. He's the kind of guy," I swallow, wanting to choose my words carefully, knowing my father is going to remember them, "he's the kind of guy who makes me believe in love."
"You didn't believe in it before?"
"I believed in the idea of it. I just hadn't ever experienced it."
"And you experienced it last night?" my father asks dryly as he lifts his cup of coffee to his mouth and takes a sip, studying me. I wonder what he sees. Day-old clothes and messy hair, mascara that's probably crusted against my eyelids. I don't care though. I've never been one to care about appearances or fake apologies or skirt around the truth.
"Dad, I do love him. I know it's crazy to meet someone and fall head over heels, but that's what happened last night. I wasn't with Lu
cia. I was with him, Flynn."
"Does Flynn have a last name?" my father asks.
"No, I mean, he does, but I don't know it."
"You fell in love with a man you don't even know?"
"I know him," I say, adamant. "At least I know the parts that matter. He lives in LA," I add.
"Yeah?" Dad says. "What else?"
I rack my brain for details. What do I know about Flynn? I know he makes me feel good. I know when I'm naked against his body, I feel like a million bucks. Those aren't the kind of answers my dad is looking for, though. "I know he's a bodyguard. He works hard. He has a lot of tattoos. He's had a rough childhood. His parents are dead. He really respects his boss. He loves the ocean just like me. He likes to work out, though the gym he's been going to isn't really his scene. He wants a dog, and maybe a picket fence. And 2.5 children."
My dad laughs. "Fifi, all that in one night?"
I shrug. "I told you, it was an instant connection, chemistry. And you're going to know him for the rest of your life so you better memorize those details. His name is Flynn and I love him, Daddy. I do."
"I feel like you're going to get hurt," my dad says, chuckling as he takes a bite of his eggs.
Esmeralda brings me my Bloody Mary and I take a drink. It's perfectly spicy. I twirl around the pickled green bean in the glass before taking a bite.
"I know it's insane, but after losing Mom, I guess I've always had the sense that time is running out or that it's precious. And there are no guarantees. Tell me this, Dad, do you wish you had waited longer to marry Mom?"
My dad frowns. "You're telling me you're getting married now? It's been, what? One night? Not even twenty-four hours."
"So?" I say. "There are crazier things than falling in love at first sight."
"Maybe so, but, Fi, think this through. You don't even know the guy. I need to run a background check stat." He reaches for his phone on the table and I can already imagine the text he's about to send to one of his business associates, probably my Uncle Liam O'Malley, typing something along the lines of, "Background check on a Flynn in LA. I have no idea what his last name is, but Fifi thinks she loves him."
I bet they’ll find the inside scoop on him in five minutes flat. But I don't want the inside scoop. I want to learn everything about Flynn face to face.
"Look," I say, "I don't want to argue with you. I just want to tell you the truth and be honest."
“I want you to be happy, honey. It's all I want. Yesterday you came here saying you were quitting college and now you're telling me, what, you're ready to have some guy's children?"
I blink, not wanting to get emotional, wanting my tears to stay at bay. "Dad, you might think this is crazy. Heck, I think it's crazy. But I'm going toward it. I'm not running away. I'm not scared of falling in love, of my life and my dreams changing in the blink of an eye. I want wild and reckless love. And I want that again for you one day too, Daddy."
"You know no one will ever replace your mother."
"I know," I say gently, "but it's been six years."
"This isn't about me right now," he tells me, his voice soft, gentle, "but thank you for thinking about me. If I ever start dating, I'll let you know. In the meantime, when do I get to meet this man?"
"Tomorrow," I suggest. "He could come over here for breakfast."
My dad smirks. “Let me guess, you're going out with him tonight and you don't want to spend any of that precious time with your father?"
I laugh. "Well, basically."
"And what are you doing this afternoon?"
I take a bite of my French toast before answering. "I'm meeting Lucia to get our nails done. She got us appointments at the Crown Day Spa. And then I figure I'll come home, get ready and meet Flynn for dinner. I want to take him somewhere good."
"Maybe the steak house on the Strip?" my dad suggests. "I can get you a reservation."
"You'd do that for me?"
"Honey, I would do anything for you."
"Thank you," I say. With my plate cleared and my drink done, I figure this conversation has probably run its course. If I order another Bloody Mary, I'll probably be telling my dad way too many details about what actually happened last night. Instead, I excuse myself. "I'm going to go get showered and changed and then I'll meet up with Lucia.” I walk over and give Dad a hug, kiss his cheek. "I love you, Daddy."
"I love you too, sweetheart. I just don't want you to get hurt."
"Thanks," I say. "I don't want you to get hurt either."
My dad chuckles. "Nothing's happening to me. I'm strong as an ox."
"Good, because I don't know what I would do without you."
9
Flynn
Once I've showered and eaten breakfast, there's a knock on my door. I wish it were Fiona back here, wanting to see me, have another fuck before the day gets going, but I know it's not her. It's a delivery.
I open the door, and I'm handed an aluminum case by a nondescript man who I don't exchange information with. Instead, I take the case from his hand and nod before closing the door. I set it on my bed and open it up, seeing a Glock that I know will do the job. I check that it's locked and loaded. I set it back down in the case, shaking my head, wondering what the fuck I'm supposed to do.
Can I really go kill the father of the girl I've fallen in love with?
Tommy texts before I can get too spun up. Instead of returning it, I just call him.
"Hey man," I say, "you made it to Vegas?"
He chuckles. "Fuck yeah, I did. I love this town."
"Aren't you exhausted? You fly in from Munich last night?"
"Yeah, but I slept on the plane, took a few sleeping pills and was out like a baby."
"Gave you enough rest, so you would be ready for your night out?" I ask.
He says, "Hell yeah, thanks for the hookup. Lucia is, well, fuck, you met her, right?"
"Yeah," I tell him. "She's Fiona's friend."
"Right, Fiona. Lucia told me she was a little virgin that wanted you to take her V card."
"Don't talk about her like that," I say, gruff. My blood rising, pulsing in my veins.
"Dude, sorry. I didn't realize. What? Does she, like, mean something to you?"
"She means everything to me," I tell Tommy. "She belongs to me."
"Whoa, okay. That escalated quickly," he laughs. He's always been the kind of guy who finds humor in the day-to-day. Me, I'm a little bit rougher around the edges. It takes me time to warm up. Well, at least usually. It sure didn't take me much time to warm up to Fiona.
"So you treated Lucia well, right?"
"Something like that," he says. "That girl's wild."
"What kind of wild?" I ask, instantly regretting it. I don't want to know the details of his relationship with Fiona's best friend. Of course, I know it's not a relationship. That's not how Tommy works. He's a one-night stand kind of guy.
"I don't know. I'm going to see her again tonight."
"Wow," I say, genuinely shocked. "You're going out for a second date?"
"What? You can fall in love but I can't?"
"You fell in love with this girl?" I asked, downright floored.
"Maybe," he says. "Hell, I don't know. What do I know about love anyways?"
"What do you know about love?" I ask. "Well, regardless, treat her right. If Fiona loves her, she's got to be a sweetheart."
Tommy chuckles. "I'm not sure I would call Lucia a sweetheart, but yeah, she is pretty nice. Her body is, at least."
"You don't need to treat her like a piece of meat," I say.
"Dude, calm down. I'm not. I'm going out with her again tonight. Hell, I'll bring her some roses, that make you feel better?"
"Yeah," I admit, "a little bit."
"Good. So why are you calling me on the phone anyways?" Tommy asks. "I don't think I've had a phone call with you in my whole damn life."
"I'm a little anxious is all."
"About what?" he asks.
"About my job."
"Really? I've never known you to hesitate when you had a target."
"This is different," I tell him, wondering how much to say. I don't want word to get back to Ruthless Corporation that I'm slacking, that I'm not taking this job seriously. But how the fuck can I? How can I kill Fiona's father in cold blood? He raised a wonderful young woman, which means he can't be all bad.
"Well, I don't know what the problem is," he says, "but if you need help, let me know. I got your back."
"Thanks Tommy," I say. "I'll figure it out. I just have to process it."
"Process it?" Tommy laughs. "Man, did you read some self-help book on the plane? Man up, go do your job. Stop being a pussy."
I end the call trying to wrap my mind around this situation. If I let down Rogue, the boss who's been like a father to me, I won't have a job. If I just say, "No, I can't do it," it'll change things forever. Am I ready to lose that? I want Rogue to think I'm a hard ass motherfucker and if I tell him I can't do the hit, what will he think of me? It's never come up before, to be honest—I always do my job. My phone rings and I immediately groan, thinking it's Tommy again, wanting to make some asinine comment, but it's not. It's Fiona.
"Hey," she says. "I know I could have texted, but honestly, I wanted to hear your voice."
"I'm glad you did, baby."
"I like it when you say that," she says.
"Yeah, what else do you like?" I ask, my cock already hard at the sound of her voice. Fuck, this girl makes me wild, crazy, in the ways that matter.
"I was just calling to let you know that my dad got us reservations for dinner tonight at the steakhouse on the Strip. Can you be there at eight?"
"Damn, that feels like a hell of a long time from now."
"I know right? But I'm with Lucia. We’re at the spa, about to get our nails done, and I know you said you had work to do, so I thought we could meet up afterwards?"
"That sounds good. But baby, I'll be thinking about you all day."
"I'll be thinking about you too."
"Yeah?" I ask. "What exactly will you be thinking?"